desertion

158

LYDIA

The case file sat between Mason and me, a heavy presence that neither of us dared to touch for a moment. The quiet in the room felt oppressive, like the walls themselves were bracing for what we were about to uncover. Mason finally reached for it, flipping the folder open, and I leaned closer, bracing myself.

I tried not to focus on the glossy crime scene photos staring back at us. The dimly lit basement, the rusted chains, and the marks on the floor where the cages had been dragged into place-it all painted a picture I didn't want to see. But I couldn't look away.

Mason's fingers skimmed over the report as he read aloud, his voice steady even as the words painted something horrifying. "The victim, identified as twenty-eight-year-old Rachel Meyers, was found in the basement of an abandoned house on the east side of town. She'd been restrained, tortured over several days... multiple fractures, bruising, and evidence of sharp force trauma."

I felt my stomach churn as he kept reading. "The autopsy indicates the cause of death was blood loss caused by a deep laceration to the femoral artery. Signs of struggle suggest she was conscious during the torture."

My hand instinctively moved to cover my mouth. My breathing hitched as the images flashed in my mind-of Rachel's last moments, of the sheer terror she must have felt. I bit down hard on my lip, willing myself to stay grounded. This wasn't about me. It was about her.

"We've got to figure out who did this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "We can't let this go cold."

Mason nodded, flipping to the next page in the file. "The house she was found in hasn't been used for years. No fingerprints, no DNA-just the chains, the cages, and traces of blood."

I frowned, leaning forward to get a better look at the scene photos. Something about it felt deliberate, staged almost. "This wasn't random," I muttered. "Whoever did this, they planned it. They chose that house for a reason. It's too perfect for something like this."

"Exactly," Mason said, pointing at a note in the report. "The house is isolated, surrounded by trees. No neighbors nearby, no security cameras. It's like they knew no one would find her in time."

I nodded, feeling a growing sense of urgency. "But why her? Why Rachel? Was this random, or did he know her?"

Mason flipped to a section of the file detailing Rachel's life. "She worked as a freelance photographer, no criminal record, no known enemies. She lived alone, no immediate family. According to her neighbors, she mostly kept to herself."

"She lived alone," I repeated, a sinking feeling settling in my chest. "She was vulnerable. Easy to target."

"Exactly," Mason said grimly. "The question is, how did he find her? And why her?"

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us lost in thought. I glanced back at the photos, trying to push past the initial horror to look for something-anything-that might give us a clue.

"What about the cages?" I asked, pointing to one of the photos. "They're old, but they don't look like they've been sitting there for years. Someone brought them in."

Mason nodded, flipping through the file again. "There's a note here from forensics. The cages were likely brought in within the last month. The chains too. Whoever did this had time to prepare."

"Could he have used the house for anything else before this?" I asked. "Maybe there's a pattern we're missing."

Mason frowned, pulling out his laptop. "It's worth checking. If this was planned, maybe he's done it before."

As Mason started searching for similar cases, I turned my attention back to the file. There was something about the layout of the basement that nagged at me. The cages were positioned in a way that felt purposeful, like they were meant to trap more than one person.

"What if she wasn't the only one he planned to bring here?" I said aloud, my voice shaky.

Mason looked up from his screen, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

I pointed to the photo again. "There are three cages. Three. Why would he need more than one unless he planned to use them?"

Mason's expression darkened as he followed my gaze. "You think he had more victims in mind?"

I nodded. "Or maybe he already had more. We need to check missing persons reports. If there are others, we might find a connection."

Mason nodded, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he pulled up the database. We worked in silence for the next hour, combing through reports and comparing them to the details of Rachel's case. The more we searched, the more the pieces started to come together.

"There's another woman," Mason said suddenly, his voice tense. "Angela Torres. Thirty years old, disappeared three weeks ago. Same description-lived alone, no family, no known enemies."

I leaned over to look at the screen. "She was last seen near the east side of town," I said, my heart racing. "That's close to the house."

"It can't be a coincidence," Mason said. "He's targeting women who are isolated, vulnerable. He knows they won't be missed right away."

My chest tightened as the reality of it hit me. This wasn't just about Rachel. This was bigger than we thought.

"We have to find him," I said, my voice trembling. "Before he does this to someone else."

Mason nodded, his expression serious. "We will. But we need to be careful. Whoever this guy is, he's dangerous."

I nodded, my resolve hardening. This was what we signed up for. No matter how hard it got, we couldn't back down. Rachel deserved justice. Angela deserved justice. And we were going to make sure they got it.

As we packed up the file and prepared to head out, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were getting closer to something big. Something dangerous. But I wasn't going to let that stop me. We were a team, and together, we could handle anything.