The tech blocking the body stood, turned, and then stepped aside to give them access to the scene.
What they found was similar but different.The same ferocity was shown in the way the victim had been attacked, but they hadn’t been stabbed; they had been slashed.Patricia’s bare arms were covered in lines of red where the killer had slashed her in a fury, over and over.She had the same slashes covering her face.And going by the blood-soaked clothes that still clung to her, she’d been slashed all over.
Alison walked over to the body and looked down on it, not fazed by the amount of blood in the room.Then she saw a chunk of white in her peripheral vision.When she turned and looked at the sheet of paper that had been set aside, she found a handwritten note that all but confirmed they were looking at the same killer.
The lies must stop!The lies must stop!
Alison looked back at Detective Moore to see that she had also seen the note.
"Do we have a cause of death?"Moore asked the forensic tech.
"Blood loss, most likely," the tech said."We won't know when she was killed amongst all of"—she pointed to the body—"this until the autopsy is complete."
"We should check with the downstairs neighbor," Alison said."See if they heard anything that can give us a time of death.If she had been attacked suddenly and cut over and over, she would have fallen to the floor at some point.If this was the same killer, which it looks like it was, they must have gone from one crime scene to the next.Or had very little time in between, if not."
Alison walked from the body and toward the window, looking out at the world that carried on regardless of the two dead bodies.
"What are you thinking?"Moore asked.
Alison turned to face the detective."Did they clean themselves up in between?No matter which one they started with, they would have been covered in blood after.Was there any sign of forced entry?"
"There wasn’t," the forensic tech said.
"I can't imagine they would have turned up to either crime scene covered in blood and for the victim not to put up a struggle or even try to call the police."Alison looked around the apartment."It doesn’t look like they fought.The killer attacked Patricia, and we can only hope it was a quick death."
"The killer could have used the same knife for both victims," Moore pointed out."We didn’t find the murder weapon at Langford’s office."
"They could be killing their next victim as we speak," Alison points out."With the way both victims were killed, and how close in time both were killed, we can't rule out a third body being called in soon.It’s more of a frenzy than careful planning.They knew where wee Langford worked and where Patricia lived, and the killer is obviously killing people who decide who goes to prison and who doesn’t.We’re looking for a highly motivated killer.That gives more of a chance of them making a mistake if they’re not planning the murders as I’ve seen killers do in the past, but it also speeds up the timeline.We need to find this killer before they strike again, but more importantly, we need to find the obvious connection between the two victims and discover if there are more targets.If there are more people connected to this, I don’t think the killer wastes time killing them."
CHAPTER FIVE
The killer paced back and forth in the bathroom, their hands shaking.Blood covered the floor like a lazy Jackson Pollock painting.They looked down at their trembling hands to see the blood covering their palms and fingers.
"What have I done?What have I done?What have I done?"
They stopped pacing and grabbed onto the sink, finding the knife in the bowl.It too was covered in blood, some of it slipping down the sink in trickles as water diluted the red and carried it away.They ran the water and rubbed their hands under the flow, watching as pinkness drained away.They picked up the knife and held it under the water as it became hot.
Finally, they dragged their eyes up to look at themselves in the mirror.
Red eyes to match the blood on my face.
The killer dropped the knife back into the sink and rubbed their eyes with the backs of their wet hands.Then they rubbed their face, trying to wipe away the stubborn blood.Some of it came off, and when they placed their hands back under the water, it was carried from their skin into tubes and pipes, out to the ocean.
Is that where it goes?Out to the ocean?Maybe to a treatment plant?A facility of some sort?Does it flow into the river?
They held their hands under the water as it grew hotter, nearly scalding.Then removed them and grabbed the pink towel hanging to the side.The towel hadn’t always been pink.They rubbed their hands until the skin matched the color of the towel, then their face, over and over, pulling off layers of skin until their face felt raw.When they looked into the mirror again, they couldn’t tell if it was blood staining them or if they had rubbed themselves raw.
It felt good.There was pain, but it was dull.Dulled by what they had done and how they had felt while doing it.It was a feeling they hadn’t experienced before.It had taken some time to understand what feelings there were as the adrenaline had drowned everything else out.Blood had pumped through their body like a high-speed train as it came from the body of another, baptizing them in death.
Then, whenitcleared, they felt regret.
The killer looked themselves in the eyes and smiled.They basked in that regret.It reminded them that they were human.What they had done was human in many ways, but it was critical to…
They rubbed their eyes with the back of their hands again.It was critical to something, and that was all that mattered.They rubbed their eyes again, enjoying the way it felt, even though the skin around the eyes was becoming tender.
"I did it," they hissed."I did it, and that’s all that matters.They need to be punished, and I am the one to punish them."
They blinked a few times and then repeated the words like a mantra.
