The Witching Hour Killer

SEVEN - THOMAS

After discovering the head within the box, I paced to the bathroom and emptied my stomach into the toilet bowel. The thick vomit burned through my throat with every retch. The smell of the flesh still lingered in my nostrils, on my clothes.
This week has been one of the most testing weeks of my career. The body of Margaret falling onto me, the scene at the cathedral, the eyes of the killer and now... the head.

Another wave washed over me and I vomited once more before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and audibly gasping for air.

"Tom?" Dani called from behind the men's door. "Everything ok in there?"

"I'm fine." My voice echoed from the toilet bowl, giving everything away and I turned around and sat on the cold floor.
Usually I would rather sit in the toilet itself than on the floor of the cubicle, but today I didn't care. All I needed was to stop my head from spinning and my stomach from turning.

Grabbing the porcelain rim, I pulled myself up, flushed the toilet and unlocked the door, beelining straight for the sink. My hands shovelled water into my mouth seeking to rid it from the vile taste on my tongue.
When I looked up into the mirror, I saw the paleness on my face. The almost green tinge to my skin.
This practically unrecognisable, sickly version of myself looked back at me from the glass, judging me.
I ran my hands under the cold running water again and cupped them, bringing the liquid to my face. Gasping at the cool temperature, I reached for the tap and turned it off, before grabbing a handful of paper towels and drying my skin.

When I opened the bathroom door, Dani eyed me in worry, studying the water droplets dripping down my stubble towards my chin before asking:
"You ok, Detective?"

Straightening up, I cleared my throat in an attempt to pull myself together, tightened the tie around my neck and threw her a half smile.
"Yeah. You got any mints?"

She laughed out loud and placed her hand on my shoulder. "You poor bastard. Come on, there should be some in my desk. Also, there's something you have to see."

"Oh, I saw plenty." I shuddered at the memory.

"Not the head." Dani went on. "There was something else in the box. Come on. The other stuff was sent down to forensics so you're safe." She guided me back to my desk and I tried not to look at the faces in the office staring at me in horror. Like it was some unfathomable event that I had finally snapped. I'm sure if they were sent a head in a box, they would understand.

Dani handed me a single piece of paper and my eyes took a while to adjust before I noticed the same handwriting from the box label. A personal note. Nice touch.

Hello, Detective.
Thank you for paying a visit to my stage yesterday, I hope you enjoyed the show.
After our encounter, I thought it was only right that I sent you a gift to make up for the trouble. Your precious ID.
I hope we meet again, but until then,
Akdus melzakis etur.

I read the note again and again, my brain on fire. What the hell did this mean?

"You seem to have caught his attention." Dani's voice snapped me out of my trance.

"The feeling is mutual." My eyes were still firmly locked on the paper in my hands. "What the fuck does this mean?" I pointed to the last line. "Akdus melzakis etur."

"Some foreign language?" She responded nonchalantly. "I was never good at languages. I'll send it to the team and see what they can bring up." She clasped onto the note and tried to pull it from my hands. "Tom?" Her eyes were on me. "Can I have it?"

"What?" I finally brought my eyes up. "Oh, shit... I mean yeah." I released my grip. "Take it."

She pulled the paper towards her, eyeing me suspiciously. "You ok?"