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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2104117-The-detective
Rated: E · Short Story · Detective · #2104117
A short story about a detective trying to find a serial killer

The detective

The darkness of the alley entangled me in a tight embrace, it was hard to breathe. The alley smelled of moulding buildings, and rotting big black bins. I could hear the faint meowing of cats rummaging around for scraps. The taste in the air was thick with smog from the factories all around this part of the city. There was not the normal city life this side of town, it was quiet, abandoned, even the homeless had left. I was here to find the killer, it had to stop.

I wanted to run, she was coming, and in all my years on the force I had never met a killer quite so skilled or psychotic. No one had seen her, no one had heard her. She was precise never missing her mark. The bodies she left behind were mangled, patterns had been carved into their skin like she was a stone mason carving a great statue, she knew what she was doing, had to have had medical training, but she wasn't in any data base, it left me so confused. How could I do my job with nothing to go on? We were only there because of an anonymous tip, now I was here it seemed suspicious. Half the station was out here, but there was too much ground to cover. So, I am here alone, the hair on the back of my neck standing up, Goosebumps covering my arms. Deeper into the alley I swear I could hear soft menacing laughter. Soft but confident footfalls. Someone appeared at the end of the alley shadowed in evil. I took a step back, I glanced behind me. The ally was blocked, both started to swiftly approach me I had to move. There was a rusting metal door to my left, I dashed to it, I had to get an advantage I couldn't take on two people alone.

The door groaned as the hinges buckled after months of disuse, the building I had entered was an abandoned factory, possibly a textile mill they were common in this area. I headed upstairs to the foreman's office, I could hear footfalls echo all around the factory which meant I couldn't pinpoint their location. Suddenly there was movement to my right. I jumped nearly falling down a hole in the rotting floor boards. The shadows seemed to be moving there was more to this factory. I had walked into something that was bigger than I had originally thought. I thought there was one, but it always stumped me how one person could kill so many with such skill and accuracy, to them it would be art that takes time, the intricate details that were carved into each victim's skin. I had one of the young interns look up cults to see if it was someone worshiping the devil or some messed up God from some weird dimension, but he came up empty handed just like we all had. There was nothing, there had been 58 kills so far, mainly people who were homeless and wouldn't be missed, but some were the odd office worker who had been late home, in the wrong place at the wrong time. The deaths were horrible. The one thing that was determined by the coroner was that the victims were still alive when the marks were carved into their skin.

There was more movement behind me, I kept going down the long decomposing corridor, there had to be a fire escape. I heard more laughter, it was louder now and seem more manic. "Detective?" I jumped a mile, behind me was Officer Jenkins I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god, call back up on your radio I think there are two killers."

Officer Jenkins let out a small gasp and fumbled with his radio, just then there was a loud hollow bang, like someone had hit a gong. Then all I saw was black.

When I came too there was a fire in the middle of the factory, there was what looked like a pentagram, with all sorts of crazy symbols drawn inside it, like something out of a horror movie. This can't be real. I couldn't move, my legs and hands were tied together so tight I was getting pins and needles. The commissioner came into view, "Sorry it had to be this way detective, you're a good detective, solved more cases than anyone I know, but I'm afraid this is your last case." She looked at me with delight.

"What?" "This is you, where's Jenkins?" I shouted

"Here!" Jenkins came into sight as did many more officers, detectives even the coroner. Most of my colleges they were all smiling maliciously. Then the pain started.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2104117-The-detective