Game of Thrones Imagines

The Flayer - Part 6

(Y/n) watched as Jon spoke with the hunter that had literally tripped over the body that had been found by his dog. Even for an experienced huntsman, finding the corpse of another human being was something that he had admitted had shaken him. And (Y/n) couldn't help but think back to all the times she had had to speak with unsuspecting innocent bystanders, that had been traumatised by finding the discarded body, or parts of a body, left by some sick bastard that got his jollies from slaughtering people like many would, a hog.

The time between victims was concerning (Y/n). So many seemed to be happening so quickly. It was true that some murders could kill one victim very quickly after another, but six in not as many months was brazen. Many killers could leave months, years, and even decades between victims. But this guy was sending a message, a real "fuck you, you can't catch me" to the local police.  It was as if the murderer had just as much against the Starks and their people, as he had his victims, and (Y/n) wanted to know who in the local area could have such a ill will towards the family. She knew that the hunch could be a long shot, but at this moment in time she was willing to look at anyone.

"(Y/n)." Robb quietly said, as he came up behind her, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Is it ok if the doc gets his boys to move the body now?" The detective asked, as (Y/n) continued to survey the pristine scene.

She couldn't help but let her mind wander back to her childhood. She had never seen the snow when she was growing up. Never been far enough north to lay eyes on its stark beauty. But she knew of the wonders from an old story that her mother would tell her. A story of an ice queen and the three suitors that fought for the hand of the lady. In the story, one suitor was golden, proud, and arrogant. The second, was all fire and rage, bluster, and brimstone. The third and final, was made of snow, yet loyal, brave, and wise. (Y/n) had always liked that suitor the best, but in her mothers story the ice queen had always married the first suitor, and (Y/n) could never understand why. Well not until she was older anyway. And at this very moment, (Y/n) could see the ice queen's carriage come racing through the forest, being pulled by its team of stags. Closely followed by her suitors.

"(Y/n)?" Robb said again, shaking her from her thoughts.

"Er.....yeah, sorry. Get the guys to move the body. And let the doc know that we'll need everything that he can give us as soon as the bodies thawed." (Y/n) replied, as she turned to look at Robb.

"You ok?" Robb asked, giving (Y/n) a concerned look.

"Yeah. I was just thinking that's all. Well, there's not much left to do here. What say you take me back to the precinct cos I'm freezing." (Y/n) replied. Robb chuckling as he realised that the Special Agent did in fact look nearly as stiff and cold as the body they had just found.

"No problem. Why don't you go wait in the car?" Robb chuckled, realising that (Y/n) still hadn't had time to acclimatise to the cold of the north.

"I think that that is the best thing I have heard all day." (Y/n) replied, as she made her way back to the waiting squad car. The agent wrapping her coat tighter around her form as she climbed into the passenger seat.

>>--------------------------------<<

(Y/n) looked at the clock. It was already midnight, and none of them had had a break since earlier that morning. She, Jon, Robb, Jory, and several other deputies had been combing through the files, each hoping to find something in statements, in the photos, in reports, that they might have missed. But each of them had come up empty handed, and all of them were ready to call it a night.

"So, do you have any ideas, (Y/n)?" Robb asked, as he took a seat at the other side of the desk, and Jon perched himself on the corner.

"Well, to be honest. There was something that sprung to mind when I went to the crime scenes. Or should it be a person that sprung to mind. In the 1950s, there was a guy. Not a serial killer in the strictest sense, as he's only known to have actually killed two women, but he's up there with the most infamous. This guy had a strong bond with his controlling, religious mother, and when she died, he took it upon himself to make what many called a "woman suit" so that he could, in a strange, twisted, and warped way, become his mother. He would dig up the graves of recently interned woman that reminded him of his beloved mother, take them home, tan their skin, and not only make the suit, but also turned their bodies into furniture, and the gods only know what else." (Y/n) began to explain, as she rubbed her tired eyes.