The Hairlock Killer

Chapter 1: Notepads

The screams of the newspaper vendor filled the tunnels, the busy people of Paris kept on walking, not one of them being bothered by the events of last night. The killer walked along the tunnels too, blending in with the rest of the crowd, carrying a cup of coffee and a new mop of silver hair. No one bothered to look twice as she passed by, she was just another human in there, not a ruthless killer. What she loved the most about mornings was watching the faces in the crowd, how each one of them was completely absorbed in their own world, completely oblivious to the events occurring around them. She saw the man selling the newspapers and silently bought a newspaper from him. With a brisk nod of gratitude, the girl kept on walking while flipping through the pages, searching for news on last night. At last, she found the article, it was considerably small (as always) thanks to the lack of information.

"Yet another night ended in bloodlust in Paris when the infamous Hairlock Killer struck again, this time the victim was a woman in her mid-fifties, and authorities claim the killer had already fled the scene when she arrived. No other information was disclosed"

No pictures, no testimonies, no evidence, perfect work. She smiled and tore off the page, throwing off the rest of the newspaper in a nearby bin, she took the torn page and shoved it inside her pocket, careful not to let anything peek through. She walked to the station she needed to take today, the crowd thinning considerably. The station she was in was considerably empty, a man was snoring loudly, carefully propped against the wall. She stopped by one of the boarding lines and patiently waited. As the train she was boarding arrived, she was greatly amused by how empty the wagons were. Finishing her coffee she stepped in, just as she did every morning. Not a single soul that was in the metro that day noticed the soulless killer walking amongst them.

In the seat across from her, two young men were deeply engrossed in their conversations. For some unknown reason they spiked up her interest, she started observing them carefully. One of them, the one seated at the left was reading some sort of fantasy novel, that was what she could tell from the book sticking out of his backpack. The other one who was seated on the right seemed to be writing stuff down in a small notepad, and showing the other one. He shook his head, slowly pulling out a slip of paper from his pocket. Her gaze lowered, not finding their notepad interesting anymore, and focused on their clothes. They were heading to their workplace, that much was obvious, just like herself.

After a while, the fantasy novel guy lifted his hand up, brushing his hair as he frowned at whatever his friend was showing him in the notepad. A black shiny handle strapped to the belt of his pants caught the killer's view, that was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. Without making major moves, the woman wrapped her scarf around her neck, covering her mouth. She lowered her gaze, careful not to make any sudden moves. Luckily, since she had boarded, more people had gotten on the wagon, blocking her from view. She was not nervous at all, it was not uncommon to encounter the likes of them in her day to day life.

She did not notice the burning glance of both men directed at her, even if a couple of people were blocking their view. The train came to a stop, and she stood up as soon as she saw the people in front of her moving. The counting in her head began, she had 30 seconds. Between the cluster of people she caught the fantasy novel guy's glare, he was holding up a piece of paper and looking at her. She quickly covered her face even more and stopped walking, allowing herself to be completely surrounded. A couple of complaints could be heard from the people around her, telling her to move but the counting in her head told her to stay in her place for just 5 more seconds. Realizing what she was planning, the two men stood up, trying to push through the crowd, who wouldn't let them through. As she reached the 20-second mark she exited the train, letting the people through, the force made her exit the wagon too, and just she had hoped the people who were eager to get into the wagon started pushing. The two men were still trying to get through the doors, but after a few more seconds they got shut, leaving them inside.

The notepad man punched the door, watching how the girl who had stopped the crowd walked up the stairs. He was hoping she would look back at them, so he could catch her face clearly, the only memory of her being her silver hair that had caught his attention. He looked down at the pad that lay discarded on his seat, little did he know that showing the notepad to his partner had betrayed them and ruined their shot. Three words were clearly written.

"Go get her."

He looked back at his partner who kept staring at the picture, the old woman who was killed last night staring back at him. He gripped the picture a bit harder, if only they had both noticed just a few seconds earlier. He knelt down by where she was sitting and slowly started inspecting the seat, ignoring the glances from the people around him. He ran his hand through the seat, trying not to think too much about how dirty it was. He looked at his hand and found what he was looking for, a single silver hair belonging to the woman who had escaped.

"Nice work Elliot," mumbled the man as he watched his buddy examine a single hair, the sarcasm in his tone showing clear frustration, he sat down on his seat and pressed his fingers to his temple. The train lurched forward, nearing their destination.