𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

4 | Investigation of the Dead Guy and Me

This house is fucking disgusting.
Burgundy shag carpet, chipped wallpaper on the walls and it smells like weed everywhere you go. The guy who lived here is a fucking slob.

Well, was a slob.

"Okay so the passive blood stains from the couch to the kitchen show that the victim didn't die from the initial blow, he crawled his way to the kitchen. The impact splatter shows the blood projected through the air and that's why you can see it up here on the wall, it means the attacker was probably standing over here for the first hit. The cast off splatter down at the kitchen means the attacker carried the weapon over to the victim for multiple hits and that's where he died... Kitchen floor," I said walking two of the cops through the crime scene and explaining what our forensics team had concluded.

"How come we've never met Tom?" Amalie asks out of the blue, one of the two police officers I was explaining the scene to. She was probably the closest person at true station to what I would call a friend. Meaning, we've hung out together outside of work events. She's brutally honest, which is why I like her. She told our lieutenant to 'shut the fuck up and let us do our jobs' when he asked too many questions on a case we hadn't finished and ever since then I have had respect for her.

"Medical records of the victim show they were in and out of the Lakewood Rehabilitation clinic several times this year for drug abuse and my psychological profile puts them on a timeline of relapse when the murder happened; we found cocaine in the bathroom and several pipes. At a second glance, the house was ransacked after the murder so the assailant killed the victim and then searched for something. We figure out what that is, we find our attackers motive," I continue, completely ignoring Amalie's question about Tom.

"Hey Paul, you mind fucking off for a second? Go take witness reports from the neighbours or something," she said snubbing her police partner and turning back to me with a snide look on her face.

"Avoiding the question only makes me want to meet your mystery man even more," she laughed, watching me crouch down and look at the dead body on the kitchen floor.

"I'm kind of distracted Amalie, sorry I don't like thinking about my love life at the same time as murder," I chuckled back, inspecting the wounds to the victims body.

"Since when did psychologists get their hands dirty at crime scenes hm?" She huffed.

"Since your shitty little precinct had their budget cut and I have to do their blood analysis. Lucky I've watched Dexter," I joke, although I have been trained in blood splatter analysis. And I have watched Dexter.

"Calm down, we're not all big federal hot shots like you Y/N," she taunted, crouching down next to me and grimacing at the sight of the body.

"How can you keep a straight face whilst looking at shit like this? It's fucking disgusting," she said turning away.

"I've seen worse," I shrug. And it's true, after seeing what Tom did to Daniel, I don't think much will traumatise me. But who knows in this line of work, anything is possible.

I stand up and pull my gloves off, wandering around the house to look for more evidence to why the assailant committed the crime in the first place. I mean, my whole job is to get inside peoples heads, I have to think like them to understand them.

Amalie followed, her long electric pink nails sliding up the staircase railing after me as she followed to the bedroom. They kind of contradict her personality. She's a pretty 'no bullshit' kind of girl in the precinct, she's pretty aggressive and straight forward; but the nails are super girly. The room was an absolute mess, drawers all open and and clothes strewn everywhere.