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Most of the team returned to the office after concluding our work in the field, eager to dive into the extensive collection of evidence. Setting up the new board became our priority upon arrival, seamlessly joining the seven other boards that adorn the room. Each one is meticulously covered with photographs and intimate details of the previous victims. As I observe the array of boards, it faintly reminds me of the sanctuary I hastily established in my rental house the day before, though devoid of the fresh crime scene that now consumes my attention.
I’m not sure if it was pure fate or coincidence that landed a fresh body in our laps the morning after I moved here to join the investigation.
Contemplating the photographs that cover the new board, it strikes me as a macabre work of art, a piece to be both admired and analyzed. My gaze hungrily devours every tiny detail, trying to absorb the essence of the crime captured within the frames. Lost in my study of the images, I am completely unaware of Derek's presence until he speaks, his voice cutting through my concentration.
"What do you see when you look at those?" Derek's tone holds a mixture of fascination and intrigue, leaving me uncertain whether it is directed at me or the crime scene itself.
Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I realize his attention is not fixed on the photographs but rather on me. I take a moment to collect my thoughts before responding. "I don't see the full picture," I admit, my words laced with a tinge of frustration at the elusive nature of the truth.
Derek shakes his head slightly, indicating his disappointment with my answer. "That wasn't what I asked," he says firmly, his gaze unwavering. His thirst for understanding urges me to delve deeper, to uncover the hidden layers of the crime scene that lay beneath the surface.
I concentrate back on the images, the scene, the body, the marks and cuts decorating it like it is a piece of art. “They didn’t spend as much time with this one.”
He tilts his head, his attention going between me and the board. “I’m assuming you’re not just basing that on the time between kills?”
My head also tilts in contemplation, thoughts going through my mind as I take a longer look at the images. “No.”
He huffs quietly and I drag my attention back away from the images and glance at him. His attention is completely on me with a raised brow. I feel my lips twitch in response to the annoyance I see on his face. I’m not being obtuse, it is just fun to play with him.
Looking back to the images, I reach out and softly slide my finger down one of the images of the victim's body. I can see him following the movement out of the corner of my eye. “They didn’t mark her as much, and the healing had barely begun. They killed her pretty quickly.”
His focus is now back on the crime scene images with a frown and narrowed eyes. Maybe he hadn’t noticed that before.
I let my fingers slide back off the photograph and step back, looking around at the other murder boards around the room. I had already studied all of these images in my sanctuary, I knew every little detail of every scene.
“There is no set time frame or schedule for them, they kill randomly. You can see by looking closely at the bodies that the amount of time varies a lot across all the victims. They spent a lot of time with some of them but about half of them were killed after only a matter of days,” I muse as I focus on each victim. “So why were those ones different? Why did they kill them quicker?”
Derek's eyes narrow as he absorbs my observations, I could see his mind working on the puzzle laid out in front of him. He looks a bit frustrated, like he is trying to connect the dots.
"Right," he murmurs, his voice filled with curiosity. "There's gotta be a reason why they varied the time between kills. Maybe it's related to their state of mind or something about the women themselves."
I continue studying the photographs, searching for any other patterns or clues that might help us understand the motives. Each victim holds a piece of the puzzle, and I am determined to find it.
His words send a chill down my spine. "So you think they have some specific reason for choosing their victims? Or for when they kill them?"
He gives a shrug as he returns his attention to the latest victim, his own fingers following the path that mine had taken on one of the images. “Maybe they choose them thinking they can provide something for them or fill a role in their lives. Then their time frame depends on when they realize she won’t provide that. It could be a reflection of their disappointment.”
I nod, captivated by Derek's theory. It makes sense in a twisted way, the idea that they had expectations or desires from their victims, and when those expectations were shattered, they swiftly ended their lives.
"But how do they determine if a victim can fulfill their expectations?" I muse aloud, my eyes scanning the photographs once again, searching for any clues that might shed light on their selection process.
Derek's gaze lingers on the images, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. "Perhaps there are subtle signs, details in their lives or behaviors that they pick up on. They might be looking for specific traits or qualities that indicate a potential match."
His words spark a realization within me. "It could explain why some victims receive more attention and time. They become more invested, hoping they've finally found someone who meets their criteria. And when they realize the victim doesn't fulfill their expectations, they discard them quickly."
He blinks rapidly and looks at me as though just waking from a trance. "Exactly," he murmurs almost absentmindedly. "They're searching for a connection, a bond that they believe will bring them fulfillment. And when that bond doesn't materialize, they move on, searching for the next potential match."
The realization sends a shiver down my spine, the psychology behind the killers’ motives becoming clearer with each passing moment. It is a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked within the human psyche, the depths of which we were now tasked with exploring.
As Derek and I stand there, surrounded by the haunting images of the victims, my mind races with possibilities. I know that understanding the motives behind the varying timeframes and victim selection would be key to catching them. But it is a complex puzzle, one that requires careful analysis and a deep dive into the darkest recesses of the human mind.
"We need to look beyond the surface," I say, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "There must be something that ties these victims together, something they see in them that we haven't yet discovered."
Derek nods, his eyes still focused on the photographs. "Let’s revisit the backgrounds of each victim, their personal lives, their relationships. There might be a common thread, a hidden connection that they are fixated on."
I turn my attention back to the boards, the photographs staring back at me with solemn faces. Each victim had a story, a life cut short, and I felt a deep sense of responsibility to uncover the truth and bring justice to their memories.
"We also need to consider the psychology of the murderers," I suggest, my voice filled with conviction. "What drives them to seek this twisted fulfillment? What void are they trying to fill through their victims?"
