Another Victim 🔪

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"What is it?" Xavier asks almost inaudibly, his phone pressed to his right ear, eyes shut lest he looses his sleep.

"I've called you over six times you grumpy old man. Wake up we have another one." Mark responds from the other end. From his tone, Xavier can tell it's bad. He opens one eye to check the time, it's quarter past three. "Just great!"

"Where?" He asks, using one hand to drop his pajamas. Even he can feel how scrunchy his face looks.

"Twenty seven on fourth."

Red and blue lights glare furiously from a distance. Telling from how many they are, Xavier knows the killer is back. Nothing else would be handled with such seriousness.

"So..." He starts to say, ties a scarf around his neck, "he never left town."

"So it seems. It's a blood bath in there, you might wanna get prepared."

"I'm not squeamish like you Mark. Watch and learn partner."

But the words hardly reach his partner before his face turns away involuntarily. "What is it with this guy and the kitchens? Xavier asks, putting on his gloves. From behind him, Mark scorns.

A middled aged woman's naked and lifeless body lies in a pool of blood. At first glance, the detectives can count several stab wounds, spread across her body like a treasure hunt map. Mark sighs, wondering what level of psycho a man has to be to do such damage to another human being. What surprises them even more is that unlike the others, this victim was never tied up. However, the excessive and extremely aggressive stab wounds match the other victims.
"He's getting comfortable." Mark observes.

"Killing them in their own homes now." Xavier agrees.

"One of her kitchen knives is missing. It also appears she left him in, just like his last victim. What does he have on them?"

"Perhaps they all knew him."

"That would mean the killer is part of the community?"

"Or a service provider. Someone people constantly meet or interact with. I'd say he must seem harmless for these women to let them into their homes at night." Xavier adds. We need a background on Dalia Pearson."

✨✨✨ Couple of Hours Before✨✨✨

One thing David has learned over time is that women who live alone like to lock their doors. Although he likes to think of himself as a master in his art, he is quite terrible as a locksmith. But that never stops him, often, he thanks God for adorning him with his looks, and a disarming smile. It is amazing how far a simple smile can take someone.

David knew showing up at Dalia's door would make her suspicious. She never shared her address, and although they had had several fruitful sessions, their conversations were mostly professional. He knew at some point she was openly flirting, something that pisses him of so so. But lately she had cut down on that end, which had created a wider gap between them personally.

Still, it was time, this much he was convinced. So after watching Dalia go about her dinner preparations joyously, he changed his mind, removed the gloves, and pocketed them. In through the front door would work best.

"David?" She asked, clearly shocked, as she checked around behind him. He figured she was subconsciously checking to see if her guest was anywhere close, as that would complicate things. "What are you doing here?" She asked further, now self aware, as she wrapped her hands around herself in a protective manner. That won't work, David thought.

"Sorry, is this the wrong time? I could come back another time."

"Wrong time...for what?" She asked, starting to get suspicious. He knew this would happen.

"It's just that ...ahem..."he paused, rubbed the back of his neck, then his forehead and pretended to be utterly uncomfortable. "I really wanted to see you tonight, see if you're okay. I felt awful about my interrogative remarks earlier, I could tell I upset you."

Maybe it's the fact that she felt like he was finally seeing her, or that he was here just checking on her, but she broke into a huge smile.

"Would you like to come in?" She offered, stepping aside.

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