Chapter One

It was currently raining outside. The mist and the fog were giving Detective Avery Dexter goosebumps. He could feel the cold seeping into his skin. Feeling like it was a good time to hope to find answers on his next case. 

"Watch your step, Dex," Hunter Connor muttered, ducking under a low-hanging branch. He pulled his coat tighter.

"The guy I was questioning found her twenty minutes ago. The dog walker heard the pop, thought it was a firework until he saw the pink coat in the brush." The sound of birds flying around outside in the woods filled the air. It was cold, and people talked— forensics, CSIs, and other authorities from the city.

The girl was lying on the ground, pale, and her eyes looked like she was suffocating and fighting for her life. "Gosh, she was only eight years old," Avery whispered, his voice cracking as if he had just gotten over a cold. He knelt a few feet away, refusing to let his shadow fall over the girl. "Her name was Emelia. She was supposed to be at a birthday party in Central Park." Hunter stood behind Avery, biting down on his lips. He scanned the surrounding woods—a labyrinth of winding paths and steep slopes that made this part of the park a nightmare to secure.

"Shot in the chest multiple times. She did carry her doll. It's a Barbie doll," Hunter said.

"Okay. Let's get the Evidence Response Team here," Avery said, sighing. "Shoot. I need a minute," Avery added before turning around and walking away.

Avery Dexter was promoted to homicide detective for the New York Police Department's Homicide Squad in Manhattan. 
He was the most intelligent detective in the squad room and the youngest member of the Manhattan Homicide Squad. As a cop, Avery, who was twenty-four years old, and his partner Detective Hunter Conner, who was twenty-seven, had to ride together to Mr. and Mrs. Joy's house because their eight-year-old daughter Emelia Joy was murdered in the woods and her body was found. Mr. and Mrs. Mark and Alana Joy were Avery's neighbors.

Avery was forced to deliver the bad news. That was the most challenging aspect of his job as a detective in New York. It was never pleasant for Avery to break bad news to the loved ones of a murdered victim. After getting out of the police car and exiting the vehicle, Avery and Hunter walked up to the door of Mr. and Mrs. Joy's house, and Avery exhaled his breath.

Other upscale homes were constructed in the neighborhood where they resided. It was a community neighborhood where rich people lived. Avery knocked on the door, and Mrs. Joy opened it.

"Can I help you?" Mrs. Joy wondered.

"Mrs. Joy, it's Avery, and this is my partner Detective Conner from the NYPD. Is your husband home?" Avery asked.

"You're a cop? I didn't know that," Mrs. Joy said, smiling.

I softly smiled at Mrs. Joy. Avery felt bad about what happened to Emelia.

"Uh, honey, the police are here," Mrs. Joy said.

Mr. Joy walked up to the door and said, "Hi. Can I help you?" Avery replied, "Mr. Joy, it's Avery, and this is my partner Detective Conner. We're detectives from the NYPD, and we wanted to talk to you about your daughter, Emelia Joy," Avery said nervously.

"Oh, Avery, you're a cop. I didn't know that. What a surprise," Mr. Joy said.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Joy wondered. "Is Emelia okay?" Mr. Joy asked.

Avery had a hard time finding the right words to explain to Emelia's parents that their daughter had been killed. "Um, Mr. and Mrs. Joy, we found a body near Central Park. 
We think that your daughter is involved in a murder investigation," Avery said. 
"No! No! No!" shouted Mrs. Joy. She dropped to her knees and started crying and screaming.

"My baby!" Mrs. Joy shouted. She continued crying. Mr. Joy was in shock. Mr. Joy knelt on his knees and comforted his wife. Avery sighed and knelt down to comfort Mrs. Joy, telling her how sorry he was for the loss of their daughter.

Avery stood back up and sighed. Mr. and Mrs. Joy continued crying. After comforting them, Avery felt hopeless. The next day, Emelia Joy was taken to the morgue.

She was examined by the medical examiner, Samantha Kylie, who was going over the autopsy report. Emelia had died from complications of an infection after a gunshot, including severe organ damage.

Avery looked down at Emelia Joy, her pale white skin and deceased body lying on the autopsy table. He had flashbacks of his little sister, Mackenna Dexter. Mackenna was also murdered when she was eight years old. Fifteen-year-old Avery was at the morgue looking at his little sister lying dead on the autopsy table because his parents had to tell the ME to confirm if it was Mackenna lying on the table to confirm if it was their daughter who was murdered. Mackenna also died of complications from an infection and organ damage due to a gunshot wound in her chest. The killer had shot her right in the heart. Avery's flashback ended, and Sam was trying to get Avery's attention.

"Oh, sorry. I spaced out a little bit," Avery said. "Dexter, you're not going to like what I found on this one," Dr. Kylie said, stepping back from the steel table where eight-year-old Emelia Joy lay.

She tapped a gloved finger against the x-ray pinned to the lightbox. "The entry wound is mid-sternum, just below the manubrium. It's a clean penetrating wound."

Detective Avery Dexter didn't move, his eyes fixed on the small, pale face. "Just tell me the truth, Kylie. Do you think she suffocated?" Avery asked.

"The projectile didn't just pass through the transected thoracic aorta," Aris explained, his voice clinical but not unkind. "At that range, the hydrostatic shock literally burst the vessel. She suffered massive internal hemorrhage—exsanguination into the pleural cavity. The official cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the chest, but the mechanism was the rupture of the great vessels. She would have lost consciousness in seconds."

Dr. Kylie pulled the sheet back up, her movement slow and steady. "Manner of death is homicide, Avery. There wasn't a world where she survived that shot." Avery looked down at Emelia Joy once again as she lay on the autopsy table and had another flashback of Mackenna.

Avery had a bad feeling about this killer. He cleared his throat, forcing the image of Mackenna out of his mind. He looked Dr. Kylie directly in the eyes, his voice dropping to a low, jagged whisper.

"Was she raped?" Dr. Kylie didn't blink; she had seen that look in his eyes too many times before. She looked down at the chart and then back at him, her expression softening just a fraction.

"Yes. I ran a rape kit. There was, in fact, semen in her underwear. She was raped, tortured, and murdered. 
Only eight years old, and God knows how long it took for her to suffocate." 
Once walking out of the medical examiner's office, Avery and Hunter Connor were discussing how Avery's sister Mackenna and Emelia Joy reminded Avery of how she died.

"I'm sorry about your sister, Avery," Hunter said.

I shook my head. "Yeah, I know. Everyone loved Mackenna. She was always the light of my life. I promised her that I would protect her. Then when I found out she was murdered, I was devastated," explained Avery.

Hunter nodded.

"But Emelia was the same age as Mackenna when they were both murdered," Avery said.

"So Emelia reminds you a lot of your sister," Hunter said.

"Yeah," Avery said.

"So why do you think this killer killed Emelia?" Hunter asked.

"At the crime scene, she bled to death, shot in the chest multiple times, and as well as the killer might have killed Emelia for a reason. I'd say a killer who probably hates kids," Avery said.

Avery and Hunter both got into the car, an unmarked police car, and after getting in, they shut the doors. Avery sat in the driver's seat, and Hunter sat in the passenger's seat. Avery turned the engine on and pulled the gear into drive.

Avery Dexter knelt in the dirt, his attention fixed on the small, singular entry wound in Emelia's chest. The next day, the NYPD Ballistics Lab would eventually confirm the exact caliber, but he'd seen enough trauma to recognize the precision of a small-frame handgun—likely a .22 or a .380. "Small caliber," Avery noted, his voice flat.

"Minimal exit trauma. The bullet probably flattened against a rib or lodged in the spine. It was a close-contact shot, Hunter. Look at the stippling on the fabric of her coat." Hunter circled the perimeter, his flashlight beam cutting through the gloom.

"No brass, Dex. If it's a semi-auto, the shooter took the time to find the casing in the leaves. If it's a revolver, it never leaves the cylinder."

"This wasn't a stray," Avery said, standing up and brushing the forest floor from his knees.

"A stray hit at this range would have more erratic placement. This was a steady hand. He held her still, or she stood still for him." Avery looked toward the Loch.

The NYPD Evidence Collection Team was going to need to sift every inch of this mud. 
If that bullet was still inside her, the Medical Examiner was our best bet for a signature. Check the second we get a lead. If this gun has a history in the five boroughs, I want it on my desk by morning."

At the New York City Police Department, Avery was discussing what gun the killer used to kill Emelia. It was confirmed by ballistics that the bullet was a .22 or a .380," Avery said.

"When did he purchase the gun?" Hunter asked. "Six months ago. He purchased it at a gun shop called Gary's Guns, located downtown in Manhattan," Avery answered. "Okay," Hunter said.

"I talked to the owner of the store, and he says that they don't keep receipts. They give the receipt to the person who bought the gun. Not a single receipt is kept by Gary from his customers," Avery explained.

"Okay. So how about any financial records? Bank statements?" Avery continued the conversation.

"Uh yeah. The gun the suspect purchased cost $500. He used his debit card to buy it," Hunter said. Avery sighed. "Were there any other witnesses at the crime scene besides that one woman who found Emelia's body?" Avery asked.

"No. But I already questioned this couple, Mr. and Mrs. Jack and Jacqueline Gopher, who said that they knew Emelia Joy's parents and Emelia herself, and that she and their daughter Rebecca Gopher, who's also eight years old, were playing together that day—the same day Emelia was murdered," Hunter said. "Where was Rebecca at that time?" Avery asked.

"Her mother told me that Rebecca got tired of playing and decided to go back home. Emelia decided to stay in the woods and play around. That was about an hour before her body was found," Hunter replied.

Avery nodded. "So we should talk to Rebecca. Have her tell us more about Emelia," Avery said. Hunter sighed. "Okay." The next thing Avery and Hunter did was drive to Mr. and Mrs. Gopher's house.

They knocked on the door, and Mrs. Gopher answered. "Detectives?" Mrs. Gopher said. "Hi, Mrs. Gopher. We wanted to talk to your daughter Rebecca. Is she home by any chance?" Avery asked.

"Yeah. She's upstairs in her bedroom. I'll go get her," Mrs. Gopher said.

Mrs. Gopher turned around and headed up the stairs to Rebecca's bedroom. Avery and Hunter could hear from upstairs that Mrs. Gopher told Rebecca that the police wanted to speak to her. Rebecca said okay and left the bedroom, and her mother, Mrs. Gopher, headed downstairs to the living room.

"What's this about?" Mr. Gopher wondered.

"Uh. We just wanted to talk to Rebecca about what her relationship was like with Emelia. You know, if she knows anyone who would want to hurt Emelia, stuff like that, Mr. Gopher," Avery said.

Mr. Gopher nodded. "Okay." I sighed. Rebecca and her mother, including Mr. Gopher, Rebecca's father, and Hunter and Avery, all sat down in the living room.

"Rebecca? I hope you understand that you're not in trouble here or anything," Avery said.

"Okay. I know," Rebecca replied.

Avery nodded. "Can you tell me what Emelia was like?" Avery asked.

"She was a good friend to me. We've been best friends since we were babies. I loved her. She and I used to play with Barbie dolls. Rapunzel was her favorite," Rebecca said.

"Yeah? And did Emelia ever have any trouble with anyone at school? Maybe her teachers were giving her a hard time or anything like that?" Avery wondered.

"Everyone loves her," Rebecca said.

"What about her neighbors?" Avery asked. "I am her neighbor. But there was this one guy who kind of was giving Emelia a hard time," Rebecca said.

"Oh really? Who's that?" Avery asked.

"Mr. Piper," Rebecca replied.

"Mr. Piper? Is he a nice man?" Avery asked.

"No. He called Emelia mean names. He said he doesn't like her," Rebecca said.

"Mr. Piper always had a bad temper. He's just old. You know how old people can get," Mrs. Gopher said.

"Okay. And which house does he live in?" Avery asked.

"He lives next door to us," Rebecca said. "The house next to mine," Rebecca said once more.

Avery nodded.

"Okay, and Rebecca, why do you think Mr. Piper was, you know, why do you think he was being mean to your friend?" Avery wondered.

"Emelia accidentally fell on her bike on his yard, and Mr. Piper doesn't like it when someone comes on his yard," Mrs. Gopher said.

Avery said, "Okay. Well, we will talk with him."

Meanwhile, Avery and Hunter stood up from the living room couch and walked to the door. Mrs. Gopher kindly walked them out of her home, and Avery and Hunter walked next door to Mr. Piper's house. Avery knocked on the door.

Avery heard Mr. Piper groan and his dog barking, and he told his dog in an angry voice to shut up. Mr. Piper opened the door.

"What do you want?" Mr. Piper asked.

"Uh, Mr. Piper, hi. I'm Detective Avery Dexter, and this is my partner Hunter Conners. We're detectives from the NYPD. We wanted to talk to you about the incident that happened yesterday morning near Central Park, about a little girl, Emelia Joy, who was murdered yesterday," Avery said.

"I got nothing to say," Mr. Piper said.

"Mr. Piper, we just want to ask you some questions," Avery said.

"No!" Mr. Piper shouted.

"Mr. Piper, I don't mean to pry, but don't you want to know what happened to your neighbor's daughter?" Avery asked.

"That little punk got what she deserved," Mr. Piper said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Avery wondered.

Mr. Piper rolled his eyes. "Goodbye!" Mr. Piper slammed the door shut.

Avery scoffed. Hunter sighed. "Was that kind of odd to you?" Hunter wondered. Avery nodded. "He's my neighbor. He's always been that way since I moved here," Avery said, walking past Hunter. Hunter followed Avery to the car. Avery and Hunter headed back to the car.

The next few days, Avery and Hunter were back at Mr. Piper's house, searching the premises. Avery and Hunter had their flashlights on since it was dark inside the house. Avery was walking around the living room, and Hunter was in the kitchen. "So why do you think Mr. Piper had something to do with Emelia's murder?" Hunter shouted.

"Uh, well, I have known him since I moved here after college and before entering the police academy. He and I never had a fondness for each other. So I would see him walk around outside with his dog, yelling at children for no reason," explained Avery.

"So, Mr. Piper may be our suspect?" Hunter asked.

Avery sighed and said, "I don't know. I mean, I remember he did have a loaded gun in his hand whenever a kid walked onto his lawn. And that was it, I had to confront him. I told him I am a cop, and I would have him arrested. I never saw him carry a gun after I confronted him," said Avery.

"Yeah. But he had a loaded gun before. It makes me suspicious," said Hunter, eventually walking into the living room, and he saw Avery heading up the stairs to Mr. Piper's bathroom.

After Avery entered the bathroom, he sighed once again and began searching for evidence. He opened the cabinet above the sink and searched through the medicine bottles and other items. He shut the cabinet, looked in the shower, checked the trash can beside the toilet, and eventually left the bathroom and headed toward the bedroom. Avery took his flashlight and started looking for any kind of small evidence that could have led to the murder of Emelia Joy. Avery kneeled down on the floor, looking underneath the bed, and only saw a left-behind old pizza box with flies flying around, and the smell was horrendous.

Avery said, "Ugh." He covered his nose with his hand and kneeled back up from the floor. After standing up, he looked into the closet and drawers and everything else. He still didn't find anything that could lead to Mr. Piper as their possible suspect in Emelia Joy's murder.

Hunter came into the bedroom and sighed before telling Avery that they'd searched all over the premises and didn't find anything suspicious. Avery cleared his throat and nodded without saying a word.

"So, do you still think Mr. Piper is our suspect?" Hunter asked.

"No," Avery said, looking at Hunter. "Come on. Let's getInto the bedroom and sighed before telling Avery that they'd searched all over the premises and hadn't found anything suspicious. Avery cleared his throat and nodded without saying a word.

"So, do you still think Mr. Piper is our suspect?" Hunter asked.

"No," Avery said, looking at Hunter. "Come on. Let's get out of here before he sees us," Hunter replied. Avery nodded silently and walked past Hunter before exiting the bedroom. Hunter turned around and followed Avery out of Mr. Piper's house.