Fairytale Killer

The bodies were positioned side by side on the blood-soaked bed, holding hands. They were dressed fanciful, the woman in a sky-blue, glittering ball gown, the man in a deep purple doublet and black trousers. Gaudy costume crowns sat on their brows. They might have looked like Cinderella and her prince, if not for the gaping hole in their chests where their hearts had been removed.

Upon the wall above the bed, written in blood, was: They lived happily ever after.

This wasn't Murphy's first time seeing something like this. In fact, this made the fourth couple found dead in fairytale costume, hearts missing.

"Last I checked," someone said behind him. "It wasn't Halloween yet."

Murphy turned on the uniformed officer. "Shouldn't you be securing the crime scene?"

"Already secure, Detective." He eyed the victims, his face showing nothing, his body language betraying him as he uneasily shifted from foot to foot. "Sick."

You'll see a lot worse, kid. "Hand me a pair of those latex gloves."

The officer fetched them from the forensic kit. Murphy slipped them on and began to inspect around the bed. The young officer watched, thumbs hooked into his utility belt.

"You think it's a serial killer?"

They're the fourth couple found dead like this in a month. I'd say so," the detective answered as he ran his hand between the mattress and bed frame. His gloved fingers grazed something. Murphy eased the object out. It was a small, worn book; a collection of fairytales by the Brothers Grimm.

He flipped to the front page, and there in the crease was a lock of blonde hair, and on the page, another note written in blood: Rapunzel, Rapunzel, give me your heart.

Murphy closed the book, frowning. There's already another victim.