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‘Overkill is another component of excess,’ Ella said. ‘It doesn’t have to involve brutalization of the body. Anything surplus to requirement can be deemed overkill, but it’s particularly revealing when it comes to placement of the body. The staging, the methodical placement inside the fridge, it's theatrical, almost ritualistic. It suggests a deeper motive, something personal.’’
Chief Vasquez folded his arms, his brow furrowed. ‘So, a personal connection? Meaning might be looking for someone in the victim's circle. Someone he knew, someone who knew him well enough to exploit any trust he might have had in him.’
Ripley nodded, her eyes scanning the kitchen. ‘We need to look into Rampell's personal life, his relationships, his past. There might be clues hidden in his history that can lead us to the killer.’
Ella's gaze returned to the body. Despite the horror of the scene, a deep-seated determination grew within her. This case was not just about catching a killer; it was about understanding the twisted psyche behind these acts, the driving force that compelled someone to commit such heinous crimes.
‘We'll need to access Rampell's personal records, his digital footprint. Emails, social media, phone logs, anything that can give us insight into who he was in contact with recently.’
Vasquez nodded, pulling out his phone. ‘I'll have my team get on it immediately. We'll forward everything we find to your emails.’
Ella's investigative instincts were in full swing, her mind sifting through the myriad possibilities. She moved through the living room once more, her eyes catching every detail, every nuance of Miles Rampell's life that had been abruptly cut short. She stopped by the victim’s sofa, still boasting a groove from when he’d last sat there. The cushions were haphazardly placed, unnaturally compressed. Ella peered closer, and there she saw something peeking out from between the cracks.
‘Chief, has this place been swept top to bottom?’ Ella asked.
‘Not fully. Just the significant areas. And we haven’t moved anything, body included.’
Ella carefully reached for the object wedged between the cushions. It was an envelope.
Two words written on the front.
OPEN ME.
‘What’s that, Dark?’ Ripley called from across the room.
‘Mail, but not like any mail I’ve seen before.’
Ripley and Vasquez came closer.
‘Could be junk,’ said Vasquez.
‘It says open me. It's handwritten, too.'
Ella carefully propped the envelope open, searching for any marks or fingerprints. The contents had been removed. No note, no cryptic message – just a void that somehow felt loaded with meaning.
‘I’ve seen junk like that before,’ Ripley said. ‘Just a way for advertisers to get your attention.’
Ella wasn’t sure, but its placement felt purposeful. ‘Our victim has a stack of junk mail on his table out in the hallway. Why would he just grab this one and not the others?’ Ella inspected the envelope again. ‘And look, there’s Scotch tape in the middle. This wasn’t with the others.’
Vasquez looked it over, then pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. ‘We’ll get it swept for prints.’ Ella handed it over. Vasquez carefully placed the envelope in the bag, sealing it with a professional flick of his wrist. ‘We'll treat it as potential evidence until we know otherwise.’
Ella nodded, her mind already spinning with theories. The placement of the envelope, the apparent absence of its contents – it all seemed too deliberate to be a mere coincidence.
‘Let's not rule out any possibilities,’ Ripley suggested, her eyes scanning the room with a practiced gaze. ‘Our unsub might be driven by rage, but something tells me he’s getting a flair for theatrics.’
Ella agreed. ‘We need to be two steps ahead. If this is a game, then we need to understand the rules he's playing by.’ She paused, her gaze returning to the empty envelope. ‘We should also check if Miles received any other unusual mail recently. Anything out of the ordinary could be significant.’
Vasquez nodded, making a note on his phone. ‘I'll have my team look into it. We'll go through his mail, emails, everything.’
‘Do we know if the victim has any family nearby? Would be useful to speak with someone who knew him closely.’
‘Working on it,’ Vasquez said. ‘Database says he’s unmarried and had no kids, but ‘I’ll shoot you a message when we track someone down.’
‘Thanks, Chief,’ Ella said as she took one final look at Miles’ contorted torso in the refrigerator. She’d seen a lot in her brief time in the field, but such a graceless death was new heights even for her. ‘We should get set up at the precinct and start digging into these victims’ lives, see what threads connect them.’
‘Go ahead. I’ll have my guys fix you up,’ Vasquez offered.
Ella nodded her thanks to Chief Vasquez, her mind racing with the unfolding complexities of the case. She turned to leave, stepping back through the house that had become a silent testament to the tragedy of Miles Rampell. A storm of emotions began to brew; a simmering anger at the injustice done, an eager anticipation for the challenge of catching the killer, and a deep-seated resolve to bring closure to these faces she knew only in death.
