The Enigma Murders

The light of murder

John Collins sat at his desk in his cluttered office, surrounded by piles of case files and evidence bags. It was a typical night for him, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of fatigue creeping up on him.

After finishing up some paperwork, John decided to call it a night. As he exited the precinct, the cool night air hit him, refreshing and invigorating. He looked up at the sky, taking in the bright stars that glittered above.

He made his way to his favorite local bar, a dimly lit dive that served the best burgers and beers. John settled in at the bar, ordering a cold one and waiting for his friend, Detective Mark Johnson, to arrive.

"Hey John, long day at work?" Mark asked as he took a seat beside him at the bar.

"Yeah, it never ends," John replied with a sigh. "I feel like we're always chasing our tails, you know?"

Mark nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it. So, have you made any progress on the murder case?"

John took a sip of his beer, trying to gather his thoughts. "Not really. We found some strange symbols etched on the victim's body, but we have no idea what they mean."

Mark leaned in, intrigued. "Symbols? That's definitely strange. Have you consulted with any experts on it?"

John shook his head. "Not yet. We're still trying to identify the victim and track down any leads. It's a tough one."

Their conversation turned to other topics, from their personal lives to their shared experiences on the force. As the night wore on, John began to feel a sense of unease, as if he was being watched.

He dismissed the feeling as paranoia, but as he left the bar and made his way home, the sense of unease persisted. The night air had turned colder, and a light drizzle had started to fall.

John quickened his pace, eager to get home and settle in for the night. As he neared his apartment building, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He turned around, scanning the streets for any signs of danger.

But he saw nothing, only the empty, rain-slicked sidewalks and the dimly lit storefronts. With a deep breath, John entered his building, feeling relieved to be home. But as he rode the elevator up to his floor, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

John Collins was sound asleep, lost in the oblivion of his dreams. The clock ticked away silently on the nightstand beside him as the night passed. Suddenly, his peaceful sleep was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Groaning, John picked up the phone."Yeah?" he muttered, still half-asleep."John, it's Rebecca Martinez. We have another murder, and it looks like it's the work of our killer," Rebecca said in a hushed tone.John's eyes snapped open, and he sat up straight in bed. "Where?" he asked, his voice firm and commanding."We've got a new murder with the same symbols and numbers as the last one," Rebecca replied, her voice urgent. "It's over in Queens, and the guys at the scene are waiting for us.""All right, I'll be there as soon as I can," John said, sitting up in bed and reaching for his glasses. "What's the status? Who else is there?""The guys from Queens Homicide are on the scene already, and they've got the ME and ballistics guys there too," Rebecca replied. "Martin Brown's on his way over from the lab as we speak.""Okay, good. You get there first, and I'll meet you there," John said, getting out of bed and starting to get dressed. "And make sure to get as much information from the guys on the scene as you can before I get there.""Got it," Rebecca replied, and they hung up.John quickly finished getting dressed and headed out the door, his mind already racing with thoughts of the case. What did this new murder mean? Was it a copycat killer, or was it the same person who had killed the first victim? And if it was the same person, why had they moved to a different location?As he drove to the crime scene, he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. This case was quickly becoming more and more complex, and he wasn't sure he was ready for what was to come.