Another murder, another day. But this one was different. The description of how the woman had been killed, hands cuffed to the bed, dressed in gasoline from head to toe, was too similar to be a coincidence. Detective Parker had to investigate. He never found the man who committed the other murders. He could only hope the fucker had slipped up this time.
Detective Parker stood outside the apartment building, closing the door of his car and lighting the cigarette that hung limply from his lips. The chilly, winter wind bit through his leather coat and his hand burned with warmth from the lighter’s flame. He took a drag, the sweet taste of tobacco running down his throat, and he let a cloud of smoke escape from his mouth. Looking up he saw the fourth floor, the shattered windows evidence of the fire that had smashed them to pieces. The smell of smoke still emanated throughout the street.
The place had been evacuated, emptied, and he took the steps two at a time. He could hear the snaps of cameras taking pictures echo off the walls. When he passed under the length of caution tape outside of the victim’s apartment Detective Parker realized how strange the investigation of murder was. There were five people, the forensic team, all huddled over different things, all inspecting private objects the victim once held sacred. All these things were no longer reminders of her life, but evidence of her death. Detective Parker took one last drag, cleaning his feet at the doormat, before entering and stubbing his cigarette out on an ashtray on the victim’s kitchen counter. That’s the last time that’ll ever be used, he found himself thinking.
Karla Gray, forensic officer and also long time friend, was at the kitchen table, dusting for prints on the last wooden object in the entire room.
‘Find anything?’ Parker asked, finding his voice gruff and untuned. He was never a morning person.
‘No, unfortunately. Whoever keeps doing this is meticulous, smart. They wouldn’t slip up so easily by pressing their hand to a table.’
‘But you’re checking anyway?’
‘But I’m checking anyway.’
Detective Parker didn’t know if it was worth her time, but he let her carry on. ‘I’m going to check out the bedroom. It was done in there, right?’
‘Yep, tied to her bed like the others.’ As he turned to leave she spoke up again. ‘Wait, I almost forgot. You should know it wasn’t just her bed covered in gasoline, but also the whole room. Weird, isn’t it.’
He nodded, rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘I’m going to check it out, come back to you later.’
‘Sure. But don’t get too worked up about it. This could mean it’s a copycat killer, right?’