December 27, 1861
There were noticeable bags under my eyes for getting no longer than two hours of sleep at my desk. William walked in the police station early in the morning and handed me a cup of tea. "Thank you," I said, not expecting him to get me anything. "Heh... you would need it," William said and sat down at his desk. "Did you find anything yet?" he asked me, his tone was less hopeful since we couldn't find anything last night. I shook my head in response.
We were informed of another murder later that day. We went to the scene and found a faded shoe print, but that was it. I looked at the victim's shoe and realized it was hers, so that shoe print wasn't too important. I sighed and we continued working on the case at the police station. That day ended up like the last, we solved nothing and had no idea how this case was logical.
YOU ARE READING
The Night Phantom
Short StoryIf you are reading this, please respect my privacy and refrain from turning any more pages in my journal unless I'm dead or gave you permission. Most likely I'll be dead before I let anyone read this, so just put it back where your found it, if I am...
