Ashes

Brian lay on his bed. It was two in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. Emily had left shortly after they were done. She never slept over. It sometimes made him feel like she was just using him for sex. Although that’s exactly what they were doing; using each other to satisfy their carnal need.

His mind was racing. He couldn’t help but think about the two murdered women and their killer, whoever he was.

Brian got up from his bed. He was sweating profusely even though it was a cool night and his body glistened under the soft light emitting from the lamp next to his bed. He searched his floor for his pants and slipped it on. Brian walked easily through the dark halls to his kitchen. He filled a glass with water then made his way to his office. He was temporarily blinded by the brightness of the light as he switched it on, but his eyes, used to this kind of torture after years of police work, quickly adjusted.

He sat at his desk and rubbed his forehead. He felt a headache brewing but ignored it and pulled out his case files. He couldn’t suppress the nagging feeling that they had missed something.

Brian opened the first file; it was that of Carrie-Lyn Mayer. She was a twenty-five year old waitress, five feet three inches and one hundred and eighteen pounds. He looked at the first picture in the pile. It was a recent picture of her. She was standing near a bar holding up a serving tray filled with drinks smiling for the camera. He glanced through the police report with the official statements from her family and friends. They had all said one thing in common, ‘Carrie seemed to be doing well and she had no known enemies.’ He shook his head. They always said that. The victims are never as innocent as the family portrays them to be.

The next picture in the pile was more gruesome. It was one of Carrie at the scene of the crime. She was found in a dark alley near the bar where she worked. Her pink shirt was bloodied and her face was filled with cuts. Johnny had said that there seemed to have been an exchange before she was killed. That explained the gashes on her body. Another picture showed a close up of the fatal wound. It was a long cut across her neck. Brian peered through a magnifying glass and saw the adjacent cuts the ME deemed hesitation marks. That was probably his first kill.

Brian took out the next folder. The name Rosemarie Thornton was scribbled on one of the corners. Rosemarie, like Carrie was petite, five feet two inches and one hundred and twenty-five pounds. The first picture in the file showed her on her side doorstep covered in a bloody sheet. The other pictures of her were close ups of the wounds but Brian had already inspected them at the mortuary. He was waiting for the final word from Johnny and Dr. Ashman as to what the murder weapon was.

The next picture showed the victim’s car. There were no foreign hairs or fabrics which would give away the killer. Brian knew that he was in the car and his only evidence so far was his gut feeling. He glanced through the other photos of the car.

Then it caught his eye.

It was so subtle that it was no wonder they missed it. He pulled out his magnifying glass to get a better look. There it was; a small circle on the dashboard. The car was recently cleaned so it wasn’t very dusty, but it was still enough that whatever was on the dashboard left a small imprint in the dust. The killer had taken it out of the car. Brian wondered what it was. Judging by the small size ad position he guessed it was some kind of ornament, maybe a bobble head.

It was a reminder, a trophy of some sort. Brian now began to wonder whether the perp had taken a trophy the first killing. He searched through Carrie’s file. According to her family, nothing was missing. Could this be a new killer or was he changing his style?