Damn it all! Detective Benjamin Solo was tempted to destroy something or to target someone with a bloody nose. It wasn't an argument or an uncomfortable day at work that gave him this anger, but the renewed discovery of a woman's body. This was the third in a month and the parallels between the three acts were obvious. There was only one logical conclusion to this: a serial killer. It could no longer be denied that this was exactly what they were dealing with.
He took a deep breath and pursed his lips with the utmost control. At first glance he looked as calm as a statue, just as he stood there motionless at the crime scene and took in all the optical facts. However, whoever approached him could feel the anger, which was kept under control with difficulty, and which seemed to spread like waves from his 6'3'' tall broad-shouldered body.
Everyone knew him too well to disturb him unnecessarily and unsolicited in this mood. He was a legend at the Homicide Division with a 100% clearance rate. His mercenary-like statue deceived so many about the underlying keen perception and analytical skills.
This was probably also the reason why no one from the busy forensic team came closer than necessary to him.
He left his position and approached the corpse. It was a young woman in her mid-twenties. She had long, curly red hair and was dressed in a medieval dark blue robe and lay laid out in the midst of fallen leaves with a bouquet of flowers in her folded hands. This scene couldn't have been more romantic, apart from the fact that she had strangle marks on her neck and slashed wrists.
"Paterson? Altman?" he motioned for his detective and forensic scientist to come over to him. Time to collect the facts. "OK, Paterson, what do we have here?"
Detective James Paterson, a slender and tall man with blond short, slightly curly hair and steel-blue intelligent eyes took out his notebook and began the usual procedure. "This morning at around 6 o'clock, Melissa Miller, a jogger," he pointed in the direction of a slender woman in a training outfit standing a few meters away, who had wrapped her arms around her and was talking to a patrol officer, "saw the corpse on her usual morning round and called the police. The victim is a woman in her mid-twenties, we could not determine the personal details, as she is only wearing the velvet blue dress and there are no indications of her identity. Ms. Miller jogs the same distance every day, In addition, this is a much-used promenade during the day, so we assume that the corpse was deposited here during the night. We are currently still trying to narrow down the time by means of testimony. "Paterson looked at his superior seriously: "the same procedure and the same staging as the last two times, Ben. And the distances are getting shorter, that's not good at all!"
Ben nodded curtly in agreement and turned to the forensic specialist. "Altmann, what do you have for us?" Dr. Olivia Altmann looked unusual for her line of work. With her curvy hourglass figure, black curly hair and coffee-brown skin, she just looked too sexy for such a morbid job. Her dimpled heart-shaped face and green eyes did the rest to add to that impression. However, she was the best in her field, overlooked nothing and used every technique to unlock secrets from the dead.
"I don't have too much yet. She must have been dead at least 24 hours before she came here. The killer put the dress on her and put her in that particular position. Rigor mortis is at full strength about 6 to 8 hours after death The muscle stiffness usually resolves after 24 to 48 hours. Before that, he would not have been able to place them in this way unless he has the expertise of an undertaker and knows what exercises he can use to break the rigor mortis The temperature of the dead supports this assessment. " Altmann waved the two detective over to her and went down on her knees in front of the corpse. "You can see the strangling marks around the neck. The killer wasn't so stupid to give us fingerprints, he used something else to strangle her. The Wrists were also cut open. There is no blood at the place of storage, so this is not the scene of the crime. I can give you details after the exact autopsy. What I can say defensively is that it is the same perpetrator. Dress, flowers, cuts and the strangle marks are clearly identical to the other two cases. We have a serial killer. " She looked around seriously. "I wish I had better news for you guys."
Ben nodded grimly again and started collecting evidence: "OK, let's go. Paterson? I need the following: The police checks all potential witnesses. They should question everyone who comes by here today, maybe regular strollers have discovered something ordinary. Second: Check the area for camera surveillance, no matter what, everything can be helpful. In addition, every crumb within a radius of 400 m has to be seized and examined. Altmann? In addition to the forensic examination and identification of the corpse, please also concentrate on the additions: the flowers, the dress etc. maybe we get something out of it." At that moment his phone rang. He looked at the display and grimaced: "This is the chief, I have to answer it. Lets go!" The two nodded and started their tasks. He turned around and took the call. "Chief, how can I help you?"
Reyna Johnson entered the homicide squad via the large elevator that led directly into the open office area on the second floor of the building. The area was very busy. Employees walked through the premises and did paperwork or verification work at the many workplaces.
A constant monotonous up and down of ringing telephones, clattering keyboards and human voices. She let her gaze wander slowly over the hustle and bustle and did what she always did: analyze the moods, the relationship patterns, the conflicts. In fact, she never did anything else. For her, a drink at the bar was usually not a relaxed evening ritual and the opportunity to make new acquaintances, but a rush of emotions, manipulation and mating rituals. It just didn't go well with her talent to feel people's psyche through their walls. Which was probably the reason that she usually refrained from such social interaction and concentrated on her work.
Because of that she was the most successful and at the same time youngest profiler of the FBI in this part of the country. Due to her special skills, she did not belong to a permanent team but was called in as a consultant for new cases. This meant many nights in hotels and many changes of location. She was fine with this, it suited her lack of ability to integrate in dealing with other people.
Someone who didn't know her would be amazed to hear that she had difficulties with human interaction. Her appearance gave the impression that she could hardly save herself from male attempts at interaction.
She had long chocolate brown hair that was tied in a tight ponytail. Only a few fine strands had stolen from her braid and framed her delicate face with the expressive and unusually colored green-brown eyes under thick brows, the narrow nose and the finely curved lips. You would describe her elegant slender figure as aristrocratic. The elegant and feminine expression of her figure, however, belied her ability to inflict great pain on a larger or more muscular opponent if necessary. Thanks to the good education of the FBI.
After her first all-round view of the room, her gaze stopped at a small, black-haired woman dressed in a well-fitting and formal-looking costume. That had to be the chief, charisma and dominance of this woman despite her small body size hardly allowed any other conclusion, Reyna thought to herself.
But who had actually caught her attention was the man who stood next to the chief and discussed with her. He was at least 1 1/2 heads taller and twice as wide as Chief Gonzales. The expression on his face would have put fearful people on the run. Overall, he looked like a hurricane that had been locked in a glass of water, absolutely out of place and about to burst. "No", thought Reyna as she watched the man thoughtfully with her head tilted slightly to one side when he caught her gaze and stared at her across the room as well, "hurricane was the wrong word, vulcano went better with his dark eyes, which were almost black because of his tension."
Of course, Reyna didn't know the reason for his state of mind and involuntarily wondered whether this corresponded to his usual nature or whether this angular face with the dark eyes could also be relaxed.
"Excuse me, what are you thinking?" She asked herself, frowned and shook her head. "Please a little more professionalism!", she echoes, straightened her shoulders and approached Chief Gonzales and the unknown volcano man.
"Chief Inspector Gonzales? Reyna Johnson, FBI," she shook the woman's hand, "I was asked to report to you."
The volcano giant - from close by he did seem to be bigger, almost 6ft tall - tensed up even more than before and starred angrily in the direction of Chief Gonzales: "FBI? What is this about now?"
"Detective Solo! Hold back!" Gonzales snapped at him. "Please follow me ... both of you!" She waved to Reyna and Detective Solo, turned on her heel and led the way into one of the meeting rooms on the floor. She closed the door when everyone had entered and turned around: "Have a seat!" She instructed the two of them.
picture ©john everett millais
