Thyni, Radnot.

Thyni State Forensic Laboratory.

"The fingerprint images that you submitted doesn't match any of the ones in the government database," the police inspector, Henshaw said over the phone.

"That's not possible," Belle murmured, looking at the finger print the aluminum powder had revealed. "Even if the face doesn't match what is on his supposed ID it will at least give us information about who he is."

"Maybe he's not a citizen?" Henshaw suggested.

"Search for Steve Donovan on your system. Is he a citizen?"

There was a brief clack of keys before a response came in. "Yes, he is. Hey, are you sure there are no fingerprints on the briefcase?"

"Feel free to come to the lab and perform the test yourself," Belle said sarcastically. "Or assign the case to a senior forensic scientist."

"No need to be rude Annabelle. I'm just making sure."

"I was just giving you suggestions."

"I'm certain you were. Do send the briefcase over when you leave the lab,", Henshaw said. "I'll see if our cryptographers can unlock the combination."

"Of course," Belle replied. She knew they were not going to be able to that easily because it had a high technology combination lock. "I ran an X-ray on the suitcase by the way."

"What's inside?"

"Some sort of folder and a flash drive," she said. "There's a strange system inside. If the lock is broken, the briefcase burns."

"How'd you know that."

Belle shrugged as though he could see her. "I detected a strange chemical after trying the combination lock once. Oh and, your men have two more tries before it's permanently locked."

"You are not to get in the way of investigations," Henshaw hissed. "Why'd you try the lock?"

"Hey! I have a better chance at it than your men do. You barely even have men."

"Whatever. Just do whatever you're told and nothing more."

"Whatever you say," she yawned.

"You know what, bring the briefcase to the station yourself," Henshaw said. "I'd like to discuss some things with you."

"Um sure. How about the car? Anything new on that?"

"That's not a part of your job."

A Few Hours Ago

"We need you on ground." Henshaw sounded frantic on the phone. "I know you're not on duty and it's pouring buckets but there's also no one else as skilled as you. It's important."

"What happened to Collins and Jemima?"

"They've got something else they are working on."

"Um, okay?" Belle prompted, putting on her coat. She grabbed her umbrella from the side of the door and used the tip as a walking stick as she stepped out of her house. "Can you like tell me what's going on?"

"Maybelline Avenue. House Forty Three. If the area looks abandoned and you can hear our sirens, you're in the right place. Hurry!" The call ended abruptly.

Sighing, she hailed a taxi and crossed the street in a haste. The wind was making solid efforts to snatch her umbrella from her.

She dialled his number once she had gotten into the taxi but there was no response. "You could've given me more details."

"Are you sure you've got the address right miss?" It was the taxi driver, looking at his phone map suspiciously. "The area's not..."

"The address is right," she looked out the window into the almost abandoned street. The drive had not been to far from her house.

"Wonder what on earth is going on there," murmured the taxi man as he could see the red and blue lights of police sirens in the area. "Ain't no activity there for the last decade."

"Hm." She paid him and scuttled off in the rain. Henshaw was no where in sight but there was a young police officer she had never seen before at the entrance marked with yellow tape. "What's going on?"

"Your identity card?" His hands were stretched out and she slapped it onto his palm. "Oh? You're the Annabelle Gosling?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Henshaw is upstairs. There's been a murder. He has been expecting you," he said. "I'll take you there."

"I'll find my way," she smiled tightly. "We need at least one person down here."

She approached the building that seemed to be crying in pain as the rain relentlessly poured down on it. It looked about a hundred years of age but still strong enough to stand another century. Opening the door, she was met with a stairway by her left and what seemed to be a living room by her right. The living room was empty so she climbed up the bricked stairway and sighted Henshaw from a door that was ajar.

"Holy shit!"

The man's dead body was dressed in a clean Armani suit. His eyes had been plucked out of its sockets leaving empty holes that seemed to haunt Belle. His nose- broken and twisted in an unnatural position, had an ugly gash running across it, interrupting the smooth angles of his face. His lips, which must have been once shaped into a confident smile, were pierced down the centre and a padlock sat on it, locking his tongue in mockingly as if to say, "Dead men can't talk."

There seemed to be no sign of struggle; no upturned chairs, furnitures or fingernail scratches nearby. If not for his face, which had been mutilated beyond recognition, one might think he died a natural death.

Belle adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and walked into the room, squatting beside him. He smelled like formalin which was very different from dead bodies on a crime she had encountered in her years as a forensic scientist. Everything about the scene was unusual.

"You're here, finally!" Heaved Henshaw in relief.

"I should have gone to the lab first," she murmured.

Things were different now than when she first started her job. There were no flashes of light from the camera's of other people on the team, no medical staff running about. The forensic team was as good as non existent. Other than the tape and dead body, the place did not have semblance to a crime scene.

It was just her and Henshaw in the room.

Belle had no chemicals on her so there was nothing she could do on the scene other than study the dead body. Sighing, she shook her head in annoyance. The government was responsible for most of the scientists leaving their job. Now, when it was crucial to have a team examine the scene, there was none.

What would a respectable looking man have been doing in a dilapidated building? She asked herself, ignoring Henshaw's presence. Why had the killer bothered to keep him fresh with a chemical?

"We'll transport the body to the lab. I'll send in the pictures I've taken," Henshaw, the police inspector said, patting her shoulder. "Some policemen from another division will be here soon. We also need to identify whose body this is."

"No I.D in his pockets?" She asked putting on the gloves she always kept in her coat. Ransacking his pocket, she found none. "Did you guys see any wallet?"

"Leave that part for us."

"It's a part of my job too." She rolled her eyes. That was what Henshaw and others always did. All the state needed her for was to perform the same old tests; fingerprints, D.N.A among others. Her job had began to bore her after doing it for four years. All the thrill ended after examining the crime scene.

She always wanted some sort of thrill and she wished her opinions would matter more to the police. Other than identifying fingerprints and other things in the lab, she was pretty useless. No one ever wanted her opinion on anything that wasn't a laboratory test.

Belle looked around the room. Her eyes followed the cobwebs that hung down from the ceiling like Christmas decoration. She walked towards a window facing the east and peered to the ground; then she examined the window sill that had water running on it. The sound it made as it hit the ground was peculiar; there was a briefcase at her feet.

Henshaw looked at her then at where her eyes has settled on. "It must belong to the man."

"I hardly think so," she muttered. Most of the dust on it had been washed away by the rain and there were footprints outside that were being eroded by the rain. Whoever had left the briefcase seemed to have been in a hurry so he dropped it when he jumped down the window. However, it could not have been today. She speculated the bag must have been there for at least two days. "I'll run tests in the lab. I didn't come with aluminum powder to get the fingerprints. The rain may have even washed it away. Is that all?"

"Should be," Henshaw murmured peering around the room. He walked towards the briefcase and made a move to open it.

"You'd contaminate the bag," Belle said. "You're not wearing gloves."

Henshaw snorted and then greeted the chief police officer that walked in with two other officers. From their badge, Belle could tell they did not belong to the county.

"Who tipped you?"

"Some teenagers scouting the building for a Halloween," he said. "We have taken them in for questioning. They might have seen someone."

"Have their parents been contacted?"

Seeing as the two policemen paid no attention to her and the others that followed the chief were moving the body to their van outside, she knelt beside the briefcase and tried to open it but it was locked with a combination. She slid her hand through the front part that had not been locked and pulled out a wallet.

"I found something," she opened the wallet as she walked towards them. "His wallet. There's an identity card inside it."

The two men turned to her.

"Steve Donovan. Forty-Three years."

"Shit, it has to be him," Henshaw said. "He has been missing for forty eight hours."

"The body would be smelling by now." The chief police inspected murmured.

"He's been bathed in formalin or formaldehyde as you may call it," Henshaw said. "The killer intended for him to be found fresh."

"We are dealing with someone who is psychotic in nature," The chief inspector Larry whistled. "First he had to take out the guys eyes and now..."

"We'll contact his wife and let her know." Henshaw pulled out his phone and furrowed his brows at something before putting it back in his pocket.

"You can't tell her her husband is dead by just seeing a body and an I.D card. What happened to confirming it's really him? I need to run a D N A or analyse his fingerprint."

"She's right Henshaw," the chief Larry said. "When she runs the tests, send in the reports. We should let the governor know we need more scientists on the team by the way. There are only six in the state lab, two seniors who might as well retire, Belle, Collins and an intern. The rate at which crimes are increasing we are going to need a lot more of them."

"Funds are tight," Henshaw rolled his eyes. "He already allocated a lot of the budget to security and on this project to make Thyni a better state. Don't you watch the news Larry?"

"Forensics is a crucial part of security," Larry said. "I'll talk to the mayor of the town. Maybe he can convince the governor. Or we could do a fundraiser."

Belle snorted. "None of that is going to work." Things kept changing for the worse for the past six years since Paul Rutherford became president of Radnot and Dushman had become the governor of Thyni. She knew that when they completed their second tenure by the eighth year, things would have gone down the drain completely.

Henshaws phone beeped again. He peered at it and gave a sigh of frustration. "Donovan's car has been reported missing. His wife called the station a few minutes ago."

Authors Note

Hi! I've been gone for far too long and this time when I say I'm back with another one, I don't mean another one that's 'coming soon'.

I'll be updating once or twice a week and that's on Tuesdays or Thursdays between 9:00p.m. - 11:00p.m West African Time.

Originally, I published this book under the pen name lashes on pocketFM, then changed my username back to wild_imaginatorII. Due to some reasons, I decided it was not the app for me.

The version released on Wattpad is more detailed and a little bit different from what was released on pocketFM due to strict rules I had to follow.

If by any chance you see this book existing on pocketFM, note that it has been plagiarized and does not belong on the site. The Killers Syndrome is available ONLY ON WATTPAD. If it is available on any other platform in the future, I will be letting you all know here.

Thanks for reading!
-Chris