Detective Thomspon leaned back in his chair, the weight of the unsolved cases heavy on his shoulders. Rubbing his tired eyes, he glanced at the stack of papers on his desk. Across from him, Detective Reynolds mirrored his exhaustion, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"Alright, let's go over what we know so far one more time," he said, gesturing to the files spread out before them. "We've got three attacks, two dead, and one on the verge of death."

Thompson nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the photos of the crime scenes. "Ethan Barlowe was found in his family's old vacation house two weeks after they reported him missing...which was a few days after his disappearance," he recounted. Both scrunched up their noses, recalling the memory of the gruesome discovery and the stench of his decomposing body. "Alex Everett dropped dead in a café in broad daylight, poisoned with cyanide and succinylcholine. His blood tests showed lethal doses, perfectly measured and prepared for no one else but him."

Reynolds grimaced at the mention of the deadly chemicals. "The security cameras were facing away from where he was seated." He paused, rubbing his stubble with a weary sigh. "And Nathan Peterson," he continued, "lured in via texts then attacked and set on fire."

Thompson's expression hardened. "We're dealing with a meticulous killer," he observed. "Someone who plans their attacks with precision and executes them with deadly accuracy, leaving nothing behind."

"A stalker?"

"Most probably." 

Reynolds shuddered. Though horrified, he couldn't help but admire the calculations of the killer. "This someone is fucking terrifying, man. While both Ethan and Nathan have been attacked with chloroform, Alex was injected with SUX but consumed cyanide in his coffee. Not only did they administrate the drugs in the only way that ensured the results they sought, but also used two lethal chemicals in one go. And the fire? Brutal. They're not messing around. They're aiming for death, straight up."

Thompson grunted, rolling his eyes at his younger partner's antics. He tapped one of the pictures strewn across the table between them. "Besides being friends, all three victims have one thing in common." He pointed at the numbers scribbled at each crime scene. "These markings appear to be some kind of signature."

Reynolds nodded in agreement. "The cleaning lady at the café mentioned seeing a similar scrawl in the restroom, written in lipstick. She wiped it, however, assuming it was the usual annoying scribble."

"Five," Thompson murmured, his brows furrowed, deep in thought. "We must find the other two before it's too late."

"We need to find the connection between these victims," Reynolds huffed.

The older detective rubbed his forehead, staring intently at the files. "The cameras in the Barlowes' mansion showed nothing but Ethan stumbling out of the house. A while later, he got the car out of the garage and drove away with someone. We can't access their neighbor's footage for extra details until they return from their trip abroad." He sipped his cold coffee for a while before speaking again. "The guard mentioned a fiancé but he's never seen her before and she was too tiny and ordinary to raise any suspicions. Plus, the parents mentioned that they've gotten used to Ethan's shenanigans and disappearance, so hence why the report came late."

"Alex had no contact with anyone unusual besides his rowdy friends. While going through Nathan's phone records, we noted recent texts and calls with a new number," Reynolds added. "We suspect they used a burner phone so we are finding difficulties tracing them. We found its remains in his vehicle. It seems like it was a girl."

"A girl," Thompson murmured.

"The fiancé?"

"Could be. The other customers said a street vendor, a young woman, approached them a while before Alex dropped to the floor."

"But why? What's the link? Who and where the hell is she right now?" He groaned, banging his head against the desk. "My mind is going crazy trying to connect something, anything." Reynolds sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping even further. "We're grasping at straws here," he admitted, his voice filled with frustration.

Thompson sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "We've hit a dead end with the evidence we have," he admitted. "We're waiting for the security footage of the cameras from the surrounding areas to see if we can pick up anything suspicious. It'll take a while, but we can't give up. We owe it to these victims to bring the killer to justice."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door, and both detectives turned to see their colleague standing in the doorway.

"Nathan Anderson is awake," the officer announced.

Reynolds and Thompson exchanged a glance before rising from their seats, a glimmer of hope flickering in their tired eyes as they rushed to the hospital. It was time to get some answers.

Nathan Anderson was a sight to behold. He was one breath away from death. It was no wonder the doctors were highly against any visitors or interviews. 

They said his entire body was covered in third-degree burns and several fourth-degree injuries scattered throughout. His upper half and groin sustained the biggest damage, though the fire had started from his legs. The chloroform poured across his face, combined with gasoline that pooled in his lap, nearly melted the skin off his bones.

With a professional and practiced expression, Detective Thompson sat beside the victim. Reynolds, on the other hand, tried so hard not to gag or faint from the stench of burned skin or the overwhelming scent of medication. He stood by the door, as far away as possible. The sight of Nathan's injuries was almost too much to bear, a stark reminder of the brutality of the crimes they were investigating.

After a few preliminary inquiries, the true investigation commenced. Thompson leaned forward, his tone both gentle and investigative. "Nathan, can you tell us what happened?"

His voice emerged raspy and strained, each word a struggle. "I...got a call. A girl. Said her name was Alex and claimed to be a friend of Ethan's." His breaths became labored, agitation evident in his demeanor. "Alex?" he scoffed then winced. "Shoud've been suspicious."

Reynolds observed from his position in the corner, his gaze scrutinizing as he mulled over the victim's account and echoed his skepticism. How could Nathan have entertained the idea of meeting with this mysterious girl, especially given the circumstances surrounding his missing friend and the recent death of another? Sure, the police didn't release any details about the cases, yet there was obviously something fishy about the whole thing.

"Calm down, Nathan," Thompson urged gently, worried about losing their only lead. The patient trembled with the effort to speak, aided by the effects of the painkillers coursing through his system. "Please continue. Why did she contact you?"

"A threesome," Nathan admitted. "She and her friend wanted a guy, and she claimed Ethan gave her my number."

The older detective frowned. Maybe that was the truth, though more gruesome than a simple request, considering the torture marks found on Ethan's abdomen. 

"A cabin in the woods. Three days. Two women. Heaven. She said her friend was wealthy and didn't want to be seen. It's pretty common, so I didn't think much of it," he panted. "Alex, or whatever her fucking name is, texted me an address, said she'll wait there, and then show me the way. It's deep in the forest, she claimed. I said okay."

Reynolds shifted against the wall, furiously jotting down notes as the witness recounted the events following their meeting. His fingers shook when they reached the chloroform and fire part.

Thompson checked the recording device in his hand. His eyes narrowed. "Alex seems to have prepared an ambush for you, Nathan. Did you see her face?"

When he grew silent, apprehension sealing his mouth shut, both detectives glanced at each other. Bingo.

"Nathan," Thompson probed. "I need you to be upfront with me. Tell me everything, from the very beginning."

Reluctantly, Nathan started from the day his group of five had kidnapped a girl. Though it took him long to get the words out, both listened patiently. As he spoke, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place for both officers. This wasn't just a random series of attacks—it was a calculated act of revenge, and the victims were anything but innocent.

Reynolds clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with each word the witness uttered. Anger burned in his eyes as he struggled to contain his emotions. Thompson stared ahead, his expression unreadable.

Before he could finish his recounting, however, he started wheezing harder, the toll of the prolonged conversation finally seizing his battered limbs. Coughs racked his body until fresh blood soaked the gauze covering his entirety. The machines beeped louder, and nurses flooded the room. While they worked on calming him, Nathan kept staring ahead, apologizing and begging repeatedly to someone only he could see. 

Without a word, both detectives exited the room, their shoulders heavy with the burden of half a truth and lack of knowledge.

Two days later, Nathan succumbed to the complications of his injuries, his life extinguished just as the three before him.

Word count: 1538.

Total word count: 17068.

Eeeeeppp, the detectives didn't get to know who the other two are! Now they know these "victims" aren't as innocent as they initially thought.