The Waterfall of Broken Dreams.

Ambush (5)

-Detective please a few words- the reporters crowd the door of the police station- do you have any leads of the murderer?- I try to make my way through the multitude of journalists, or as my father used to call them, leeches who only care about ruin people's lives. The news of the murders spread through the town like the black plague over old Europe, journalists came to the door of the police station the night before after I went home to rest, they camped like a hunter waits for a juicy prey . Somehow the psyche of these types of people is not very different from that of our murderers.

-Let us work, we are doing everything possible to solve what happened- I enter the police station fixing my uniform. I greet my colleagues starting to take the files out on the table to continue with my work. Half an hour passes between paperwork and a long discussion with the head of the section, until the sound of a message on my phone notifies me that I must report to the morgue.

I get out of the elevator while I walk down the long corridor, continuing a few meters in a straight line to arrive in front of the door behind which is the final resting place of three of the four victims in the case.

The smell of formaldehyde hits my nostrils causing me to instinctively bring the palm of my hand to my nose to hide the effect of the stench on my freshly eaten stomach.

-Hello doctor- I see Dr. Misael pass in front of me with what seems to be a decomposing liver in his hand- it seems to be a good morning-

-Considering that you didn't bring me breakfast, It could have been better- this man, for God's sake, the look of a mad scientist perfectly honors his psyche, how is it possible that he can think of eating with the nauseating smell that is here, he adjusts his glasses while looking at me reproachfully.

-I'm so sorry, I really forgot about it - I walk away from the examination table to settle into a chair in front of his desk.

-Okay, tomorrow you bring me two- he doesn't let me answer when he turns his back to me to put on some latex gloves.

I laughed a little when I saw him, this man with bulging eyes, pale skin from the lack of sun, his hands somewhat bruised and skeletal due to arthritis and his spine a little deviated that began to give way due to spending all day lifting bones, is the closest thing to a father figure most of us have on the station. We understand each other very well, so much so that sometimes when I need advice I come down her for his wisdom.

-So... where is the victim of the church?-

-This way- he guides me to a table far from the others where the body was found- his family came to recognize the body this morning, his name is Nick Morgan, he was reported missing two days ago, his wife says he left home but there are no records of him entering his job that day- he uncovers the upper part of the corpse leaving the pale decomposing skin exposed up to the waist- the cause of death is obvious, the cross on the head provoked him, causing death almost instantly - He brings towards me an evidence bag with the murder weapon inside- we managed to lift a partial print of it- it is the first solid clue we have of the murderer in days- the fingerprint experts are analyzing it now-

-We just have to hope it matches someone- I comment enthusiastically

-If it is that it's registered in the system, if there are enough markers for a reliable correspondence- I sigh he cut off all the happiness from the root-...the lacerations on his body agree with those of the second victim Aaron Browson-

-I can see that clearly- I bring my face closer to the wounds, lighting them with a flashlight- it is strange that some of them are much deeper than others-

-They are, they vary from 2 centimeters to 5.8 centimeters in the most extreme cases, the perpetrator may have gotten tired of beating him-

-Or it could have been two people- I pull the blanket back up to the man's head.