The Enigma Murders

The Scene of the Crime

The rain was pouring down relentlessly, as Detective John Collins and his new partner, rookie cop Rebecca Martinez, arrived at the scene of the crime. The old factory district of Brooklyn was deserted at this hour, except for the police cars and the yellow tape cordoning off the area. They parked their car behind the mobile crime lab, where they could see a group of men and women in white coveralls examining the pavement and the walls with flashlights and tweezers.Collins and Martinez approached the yellow tape, showing their badges to the grumpy old department chief Martin Brown, who was smoking a cigar and looking displeased."Detective Collins, I didn't expect you to show up for this one," Brown said, raising an eyebrow."Why, because it's not glamorous enough for me?" Collins replied, with a smirk."No, because it's a rookie case. A bum was found dead behind that dumpster over there, with his throat slashed," Brown said, pointing to a spot a few feet away.Collins nodded, ignoring the chief's snide remark. He had seen enough murder scenes in his 30 years on the force to know that every case was important, no matter who the victim was."Any leads?" he asked."Not yet. We're waiting for the ballistic experts to finish their sweep. But there's something weird about this one," Brown said, shaking his head. "Look at the body."Collins and Martinez approached the body, which was lying face down on the ground, in a pool of blood. The victim was a middle-aged man, dressed in rags and smelling of alcohol. His throat had indeed been cut from ear to ear, but that wasn't what caught Collins's attention. On the back of the man's right hand, there was a strange symbol etched in blood, like a twisted cross. And on his left palm, there was a number, 13."What the hell is this?" Collins muttered, taking out his notebook and pen."We don't know yet. It could be a gang sign, or a cult ritual. We're checking the databases," Brown said.Collins glanced at Martinez, who was taking pictures of the body with her camera."What do you think, rookie?" he asked her."I don't know, sir. It's my first homicide case," she said, looking a bit intimidated.Collins smiled. He remembered his own first case, a woman strangled in her bathtub, back when he was a young detective. He had made a few mistakes, but he had learned from them."Take your time, Martinez. Look around, smell around, listen around. Everything in this scene could be a clue," he said, patting her shoulder.Martinez nodded, and stepped away to examine the surroundings. Collins turned his attention back to the body, crouching next to it and looking at the symbol and the number again. They didn't make any sense to him, but he had a hunch that they were important.As he was writing down the details in his notebook, a sudden noise caught his attention. It was a faint clicking sound, coming from the other side of the yellow tape. Collins stood up and walked towards the sound, motioning to Martinez to follow him. Brown grunted, but didn't object.They reached the edge of the tape, and saw a figure standing in the shadows, holding a smartphone. The figure was wearing a hoodie and a mask, and its face was obscured."Who are you?" Collins shouted, drawing his gun.The figure didn't reply, but started to walk away, clicking on the phone. Collins and Martinez pursued the figure, running through the puddles and the garbage.

The figure in the hoodie and mask was quick and agile, weaving in and out of the dark alleys and abandoned buildings of the factory district. Collins and Martinez followed, their footsteps splashing in the rain.

"What do you think it is, sir?" Martinez asked, panting.

"I don't know, but it's not a good sign,".

Collins and Martinez chased the figure through the abandoned factory district, dodging puddles and piles of debris. The figure was quick, but not quick enough to lose them. Collins could hear his heart pounding in his chest, and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had chased many criminals in his career, but this one felt different. It was like a personal challenge, a puzzle to solve.As they ran, Martinez radioed for backup, but the signal was weak due to the storm. Collins cursed under his breath, knowing that they were on their own for now.Finally, the figure stopped and turned around, facing them. It was a young man, probably in his early twenties, with pale skin and dark eyes. He was wearing a black hoodie and a surgical mask, which made him look like a criminal from a movie."What do you want?" Collins asked, aiming his gun at the man's chest.The man didn't reply, but held up his phone, showing them a message. It was a string of numbers and letters, written in a cryptic code.Collins frowned, trying to decipher the code. He was good at puzzles and codes, but this one was tricky. Martinez looked over his shoulder, trying to read the code too."What does it mean?" she asked."I don't know yet. But it must be related to the murder," Collins said, pocketing his gun and taking out his notebook.He wrote down the code, and took a picture of the man's phone. Then he stepped closer to the man, looking into his eyes."Who are you? What's your connection to the victim?" he asked, trying to sound authoritative.The man didn't reply, but looked away, as if he was afraid. Collins sensed that there was something more to this man than just a random witness. He decided to take a gamble."Listen to me, son. I'm Detective John Collins. I've been on this job for 30 years, and I've seen things that would make your hair stand on end. I'm not your enemy, I'm your ally. If you know anything about this murder, or if you're in danger, you need to tell me now. I can protect you," he said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.The man hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a low voice."I saw something. I saw the killer," he said, his voice trembling.Collins felt a chill down his spine. This could be a major break in the case."What did he look like?" he asked, his heart racing."He was wearing a black robe, with a hood. I couldn't see his face. He had a knife, a big one. He came out of nowhere, and he...he..." the man stammered, looking like he was about to faint.Collins steadied him, and exchanged a glance with Martinez. They both knew what the man was saying. The killer was still out there, somewhere, with a knife and a mission."Listen to me, son. You did the right thing by coming forward. But we need to get you to safety, right now. Do you have a place to stay, or someone you trust?" Collins asked, taking out his phone.The man shook his head, looking lost."I have no one. I'm homeless," he said, his voice barely audible.Collins felt a pang of pity for the man. He knew what it was like to be alone, and vulnerable."Okay, don't worry. We'll take care of you. Martinez, call for a transport car. We're taking him to the station," he said,