When I woke up the first time, I glanced at the scene and vomited.
When I woke up the second time, Mayor’s face was in mine. I passed out again.
When I woke up the third time, I called out for Enoch. No one answered.
When I woke up the fourth time, I was awake and felt like I was in a castle dungeon. My hands were handcuffed above my head to a large pipe. Everything hurt, especially my head. I couldn't even tell if I was covered in my blood or someone else's. This was not a good place to be. Everything was covered in blood and human bits and the smell was horrible. I couldn't have been out long, but yet I still had no idea where Mayor had taken me. Speaking of Mayor, where was she? If I strained my ears to hear past the loud ringing, there were voices. Maybe it was Enoch? Please let it be Enoch. Someone save me from my own stupidity.
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“Come in.” Their voice was scarier than it was on the phone earlier. I walked in quietly, staring shamefully at the ground.
“Sir, I, um, lostPersephone” I trailed off. They raised an eyebrow.
“What was that, Enoch?”
I told them everything in a flood of loud desperate words.
“And she left the crime scene and I haven't seen her since! Sef could be dead for all I know! And-”
“Calm down, Enoch. Have you checked the college? Maybe she went down there to see if anyone fit her profile?” Their words were slow and caring. I nodded and turned towards the door.
“Thank you. I'll check it out, sir.”
“Oh, Enoch?” I turned around to face them.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Call me Chief. It fits better” they smiled a winked.
Heyo sorry Chapter Seven was late I had work to do. But Case File 2 is done now! I just need to type the rest of Case File 1 up and chapters should come out on a regular schedule!
Going to the college without telling anyone was a bad idea. I had nothing to go on besides the profile I made earlier. Profiles aren't even that accurate to begin with. I looked over a list of teachers detailing pictures and descriptions, trying to find someone that fit. Surprisingly, someone actually fit, an Eve Mayor. White female, 42 and an English professor. She was married to a Harold Mayor, another professor in the school. If the husband was having an affair with the two murdered girls, that's motive right there. I would've texted Enoch the recent development, but I never got a chance to get his number. I wrote it down in the note section of my phone instead, just in case. Good enough. Time to visit Professor Mayor.
“Are you me of murder?” Eve Mayor looked at me as though I ate her firstborn child. Guess I should have waited to get to the point.
“We at the police station are just going through all our options here, mi-”
“I never even knew the two girls you are speaking of!” She cut me off, forcing me to move closer to the door.
“Miss!”
“I would never do something like murder!” She stopped me so I was facing the door and not here.
“Miss, we aren't accusing you of murder…” As I turned around, the words died in my throat. Mayor was holding a bloodied baseball bat.
“What a shame,” She smirked and twirled the bat,”Since I did kill those two whores.” The bat came down and the world went black.
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While I went off to the college to investigate, Enoch was panicking.
Heyo it's Enoch I'm stealing this from Sef to write this chapter since she wasn't there how do I backspace ugh I hate typewriters gross. Oh there we go nice. While Sef was out being dumb, I wondering where the heck she was. She wasn't in the morgue or any of the previous crime scenes. The report proved Sef was right about the copycat. The killer was the victim’s boyfriend, who had read about the murders in the paper and had tried to blame her murder on the real killer. He confessed when we opened the door to interview him. I was wrong the whole time. Sef was right, as she mostly always will be. And I couldn't even say I was sorry for leaving her at the crime scene.Â
I walked back to the station alone, entering where the bodies come in. The rest of the day dragged on, with no visitors. The walk home to my apartment was uneventful and my nice landlord who ran the front desk wasn't even there. What a day. When you get into a fight with a partner you've only had for a day. Ugh.
The victim from the previous day cause of death was blood loss from stab wounds, not poison. The girl wasn't even from the same school as the others. Not the same killer. I slide the report under Enoch’s office door when it was done. He refused to talk to me. The cool down time for the real killer ended tomorrow. If Enoch wasn't going to do something, I would. Why let someone die when I could stop it?
                          Chapter 5.5
Looking back, that was a dumb idea. Everything I did was a bad idea back then. But Enoch did dumber things than I did so he's the dumb one here. For sure. Enoch is the dumb one here.
I also seem pretty heartless. I assure you, this is not the case. She has no hea Shush It's part of the job. They teach you to be “heartless” in med school. It's how you don't really think about what you're doing. You don't think of a body like a person. You treat it as an object, a tool used to solve a case and deliver justice.
Enoch was practically running down the hallway in the station, and was dragging me alone with him.
“New body, Sef! We gotta go!” People whistled as we went passed. If Enoch wasn't pulling me along I've knocked them out cold. What a pity. Oh wow we are actually running to the car ah. Enoch why. Why do you do this me. After being pushed into the car, Enoch was bouncing in his seat as he sped off to the crime scene. I held on for dear life.
“What’d mean it's a copycat Sef!?” Enoch was whisper-shouting. He didn't want anyone else to hear, but he was most definitely upset with the current situation.
“It's not the same MO as last time. If it's not a copycat, then the killer knows we're onto them. It's completely different from last time.” Enoch pouted, as though that would change the current situation.
“But Sef-” I cut him off.
“Also the victim was killed here, indicated by the soil and all that. The other victims were killed elsewhere and then dumped. The fingers and eyes aren't even removed, how could this possibly be the same killer Enoch?” I turned around, but he was long gone.
“It's the exact same. It's definitely the same guy.” I tossed the report on Enoch’s desk. He flipped through it half heartedly.
“Same position too?”
“Down to the last detail”
“So you think it's definitely a serial killer Sef?”
“One hundred percent” Enoch sighed.
“What does it all mean though? Can we get a profile for the guy?”
“Well, due to the method of killing, the killer is more than likely to be a woman. Serial killers usually kill within their own race, so they're almost certainly white. Someone older, to be able to transport and dismember each victim. And then someone who has access to college girls, perhaps a professor of some sort, since each girl was from the same school?” Enoch was looking at me with his mouth hanging open. I stopped talking, embarrassed I had rambled on for so long. It took him a minute to respond.
“Wow, Sef. That was...amazing. How’d-” The phone rang, cutting him off. Fumbling a little, he answered it. After a few “Yes, Sir”, Enoch said something that went against the grain. “Actually, sir, we already have a profile. A white female, mid 30’s to early 40’s and a professor in the college the two victims went to.” Silence. “Thank you, Sir. Goodbye, Sir.” He looked with me with wide eyes as he put down the phone. “We got the case. And I'm running it.”
Enoch peeked around the door like a child spying on a parent making dinner.
“Yo, Sef, C’mon!” He gestured for me to come over. “We got another one.” Sighing, I followed Enoch to his car and got in.
“Enoch, if you call me “Sef” again, I'm going to use you for autopsy practice.” He smirked.
“Why, does that bother you Sef?”  I was going to punch this man.
“Enoch?”
“Yea?”
“Fight me.” The rest of the car ride was in silence.
“Same matter as before. Think we've got a serial killer on our hands.”
“Listen dearie,” Some redneck sheriff was walking over, “A sere-reel-al (said it just like that promise) killer has to kill at least three people before he can be a sere-reel-al killer” He said it really slow, as though I had not graduated top of my class with the flying colors of a homosexual pride flag. I opened my mouth to reply but Enoch, having sensed the hostility I was going to unleash, took the idiot sherif away to get more details about the crime scene. The victim was the same condition as before. Pretty, young girl horribly mutilated. Limbs, eyes and fingers removed, with the eyes nowhere to be found and everything else piled up like wood ready to burn. Enoch looked like he wanted to be in her place. I motioned him over and relief flooded his face.
“It's definitely the same person who killed the other girl. No doubt about it. And they'll kill again as soon as possible.” He sighed.
“How much cool down time we got?”
“A week, probably less.” He grimaced.
“And we got nothing to go on, do we?” I shook my head.
“We're screwed, Enoch. All we got are two dead girls and police too redneck to understand when a serious crime is happening.”
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Enoch Barron walked into the room like a straight white middle school boy. His hair was too long, long enough to break dress code. He walked up to the autopsy table and turned into a human string bean. Tall, lean and green. He was literally green. Somebody wasn't at the crime scene.
“Don't vomit on my corpse.”
I weighted the heart as Enoch looked sickly over the body.
“I'll try not to,” He held out his hand, “Detective Enoch Barron.” I held up my bloody gloves hands.
“Persephone, forensic scientist.” He
Heyo
Stop that
Don't use a typewriter if you don't want people to type over gchgdfugcyv
He crossed his arms.
“You got a last name?” I turned on the bone saw.
“Nope!” The surgical masked muffled my cheerful tone. Enoch vomited into a trash can.
“Can I give you the report now or are you going to throw up again?”
He muttered something and took the report. “Cause of death was poison.”
“Then all the mutilation was post mortem?”
“I wish. The removal of the limbs was, the removal of the eyes and fingers was done before death occurred.” He was looking green again. “Torture is the most likely what happened.” Enoch was slowly shaking his head when I left the room to clean up the body.
Flesh is much harder to sew than cloth. Flesh is thicker and one tiny mistake could cost you your job. There’s no ripping out stitches on a corpse. And oh the smell. Thankfully, you get used to it after a while, and if not there’s always some kind of nose spread to cut it. Nobody wants vomit on their dead relative from a first-time coroner whose first case was a violent crime.
What you are currently looking at is a case file. It contains one of the first cases I ever worked on. And no, I did not vomit on my first real corpse. It was the second one, which happens to be this file. (The first case was a death from natural causes. Nothing too interesting, all routine.) To be fair, it wasn’t my fault for vomiting. I only vomit when other people vomit, to be honest. Sometimes I get motion sick but that's not the point. I wasn't the one who first vomited on the stinking corpse.
It was him.
The
Detective
I had assigned
T
O me
Oh now the enter
Key is stuck I hate type-
Writers
Did I fix it? I believe so. I hope so. Alrighty back to the actual case.
The new detective that would be working with me. Enoch Barron. That's a name which gets you beat up in high school. His parents must of hated him. At least Enoch is better than Persephone-Lilith Adalwolfa.
That’s my name. Thankfully, I was never beat up physically as a child by the other kids. Verbally, yes, I was. But I never really liked them so it's okay and they could show up on the autopsy table without me batting an eye.
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