The last item hits me like ice water, though I keep my expression neutral.
"Read that one," I say, trying to keep my voice casual.
"Marcus Chen, thirty-four, found dead in his home Friday morning. Police are treating it as a homicide pending further investigation. They're tying it to some serial killer, damn."
The coffee mug slips from my suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp crack that sends ceramic shards and hot liquid across the trailer's narrow space.
"Motherfucker!" The curse tears out of me as scalding coffee soaks into my leg. But the physical burn is nothing compared to the cold shock spreading through my chest.
"Kent!" Mara drops the paper and reaches for me. "Jesus, are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine." The lie comes automatically. My hands are shaking as I grab a towel, dabbing at the spreading stain. "Just clumsy."
Mara's too observant to buy that explanation. Her eyes dart from my face to the spilled coffee to the newspaper. "What just happened? You went completely white."
"Police sources describe the crime scene as bearing similarities to the work of the serial killer known as 'the Carver,' who was active several years ago."
The Carver. A name I haven't heard spoken aloud in around nine years.
"You know that guy or somethin'? The one who was murdered?" She's studying my face like she's looking for cracks in a sculpture.
"No." Another automatic lie, though technically accurate. "Just…violent crime makes me uncomfortable."
"This is more than discomfort," she says quietly. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
The phrase hits closer to the truth than she realizes. Someone is using my methods, my signature, my carefully developed methodology. Someone has resurrected the Carver without my knowledge or permission.
"It's nothing," I say, meeting her eyes. "Really. Just caught me off guard."
Mara searches my face for a long moment. "Okay," she says finally. "But if you want to talk about whatever's bothering you, I'm here."
She means it. Over the past three months, I've watched Mara invest more emotional energy in this relationship than either of us originally intended. What started as casual companionship has evolved into something that looks dangerously close to caring.
It should make me end things between us. Because men like me don't get happy endings with women who make art from clay and read newspapers in bed on Sunday mornings.
Mara leaves after lunch, kissing me goodbye with casual affection. The moment her taillights vanish, I'm at my laptop.
The Metro Times website loads slowly. I navigate to the crime section until I find what I'm looking for: "Investment Banker Found Dead in Upscale Home."
The initial report is frustratingly vague. "Marcus Chen, 34, was discovered deceased in his Maple Street residence Friday morning by a concerned neighbor. Police are treating the death as a homicide. Detective Emmett Finch is leading the investigation."
I begin digging deeper. Social media profiles, professional listings, property records. Marcus Chen wasn't particularly careful about his online presence, which makes building a profile relatively simple.
Investment banker at Morrison & Associates, lived alone, no wife or children. His social media shows someone who traveled frequently, ate at expensive restaurants, drove an expensive BMW.
Privileged, certainly. Probably arrogant. But nothing that screams predator. No patterns that suggest violence toward women or children, no positions of authority that could be abused. Marcus Chen appears to have been exactly what he seemed: a wealthy asshole who never hurt anyone more dangerous than his own liver.
So why did someone kill him using my methods?
I search for more detailed coverage. The Channel 7 website has a video report, a blonde reporter standing outside Chen's house with crime scene tape fluttering in the background.
"…police sources describe the scene as unusually staged, with the victim's body positioned in what appears to be a ritualistic manner. While officials won't confirm details, Channel 7 has learned that investigators are exploring possible connections to other cases involving similar methodology…."
Similar methodology. To her, it's just dramatic phrasing. To me, it's confirmation that someone has studied my work closely enough to recreate it.
I dig deeper into police scanner reports, unofficial crime blogs. It takes an hour before I find what I'm looking for: a forum dedicated to true crime enthusiasts, where someone with apparent inside knowledge has posted a detailed breakdown of the Chen murder.
"Victim found positioned exactly like the old Carver cases—same angles, same precision. But here's what doesn't fit: chest cavity was surgically opened then sutured closed, but completely empty. No foreign objects, no personal items, nothing hidden inside. Major deviation from the established pattern."
