How To Find A Serial Killer

Chapter One

It was raining that early Monday morning.

The black clouds covered the dark sky, pouring drop after drop of freezing cold rain onto me. Yeah, it sounds cliche`, but it truly was. The grey pavement was swamped, as were the gardens, that were clearly once lovingly tended by a caring gardener. Not that she could anymore...

"Detective Kathleen Marsh?" Someone queried. I turned to look eye to eye with a young security officer, a boy who looked to be in his early twenties.

"Yes?" I replied, trying to sound friendly. Clearly I wasn't all too successful, as the boy just seemed to frown more. Although, I really didn't expect to sound all that cheerful - my bloody partner called me up at two am, waking me up from a beautiful warm sleep, just to stand in the freezing rain, waiting to see some murder victim. No one I know could be cheerful under these circumstances.

"Detective McClane said you'd be here. Wants you to know he's in the house, talking to the victim's sister. Poor thing looks like she might die from the shock, if you ask me." He said. I grunted in reply, and began traipsing up the walk to the house.

I sighed. Only my bloody partner, Mr Anthony McClane (the idiot), would make me stand around in the bloody rain. My partner for over a year now, and he still likes to see me suffer. As if I hadn't gone through enough already. I lost my last partner on a case, and he... Well, I think that Tony just resents being made to work with a woman. For a young guy, he's got a very old-fashioned outlook.

I hung my sopping wet coat on a chair - the coat stand looked as though it was about to fall over from the weight of the seven coats already hanging from it. Brushing my fingers through my thoroughly soaked hair, I made my way into the lounge.

Tony was there, sitting extremely close to a young woman, who was clearly distraught. I would be too, if I'd just found my sister dead.

Tony was a pretty good-looking guy, I had to admit. But even his blue eyes weren't going to sway me. And he certainly shouldn't be using them to sway a possible witness. Hoping to get his mind off the girl and back on the job, I walked up to them.

"Ah, Mrs. Jennifer Harrison, this is Detective Kathleen Marsh." Tony turned to me. I ignored his smug grin.

"Mrs. Harrison, I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow my partner for a second." I accentuated 'partner' as I knew it would piss Tony off, as well as bring him back to the reality of the situation.

Scowling at me, he got to his feet, excusing himself.

"This way." He said, leading me out of the lounge and into the hallway. On the walls were pictures of a young, happy, blonde woman.

Sharon Deveraux,  a young woman - only 21 years old. A happy, sporty, healthy kid just brimming with life. In her photos, she seemed somewhat unreal, too perfectly posed, caught in time. She was pretty, blonde, blue-eyed, with an envious figure. A personal trainer too, I guessed, from her ID badge to a local gym pinned to a jacket on her bedroom door. She seemed like the kind of girl with heaps to live for - great job, great family. No boyfriend, but some people get along better without one.

One of the photos caught my eye - a photo of three women, one of them being Sharon herself. The two women were both brunettes, and I assumed that they were all close friends. I would have to find out their names, and addresses. They might know something that I don't...

Tony pushed open the bedroom door. And there she was, that happy, beautiful, alive young woman from the photos, lying in the middle of the bed, dead. She was nude, her neck at an unnatural angle, in a pool of blood. She had multiple stab wounds in her chest, and long, shallow cuts on her arms and legs. There was no doubting that this was a homicide. Once upon a time something like this would have made me cry, but I've seen this stuff so many times that I can usually detach myself. But this poor girl...I hung my head. No one deserves to die like that.

As I walked round the side of the bed, her lifeless, glassy eyes seemed to be locked on mine, as if they were trying to burn right into my soul. I felt like she was trying to tell me something.

"Kath. You want details, right?" Asked Leigh Carter, the Head Medical Examiner. Well, actually, she's our only Medical Examiner. I gave her a half smile.

"You know me. So, cause of death?" I asked first - I always asked this first, although in this case it seemed pretty obvious.

"Multiple stab wounds to the chest. This one here," She pointed to a stab wound directly over the dead girl's heart, "Was the fatal wound. Went clear through to the heart, severing a few major arteries. If not for that, she would have died from blood loss."

"What about the angle of her neck?"Tony asked, gesturing to Sharon's neck.

"Post-mortem. Just like the other cases." Leigh told him, turning to look me in the eyes. I knew what she was thinking.

There'd been four cases over the past three months, where a young woman had been murdered. They'd been stabbed multiple times after being raped. The killer left long lacerations on their arms. And, as though it were some strange calling card, he'd break their necks after he was sure they were dead. It was cruel - and the killer seemed to have no pattern, other than all the women were in their early twenties to early thirties, and they were always white.

Mentally, I added Sharon Deveaux to the list - Jennifer Anderson, Melissa Miller, Susan Patterson, Lynda Fry, and now Sharon Deveraux.

I sighed. "Time of death?"

"I'd estimate about four hours ago." Leigh declared.

"Ten pm." I muttered to myself. I was still sleeping then. What if this had been someone I knew? I shook my head to get rid of that thought. It hadn't been, so there's no need to go nuts.

Leigh saw the mental battle going on in my head. "Kath, go check on the witness." She said.

I smiled weakly at her. "Good idea." And I left the room. There's only so many times you can see that - and I think I'd reached my limit.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Mrs. Harrison? Can I talk to you, please?" I asked gently, as I walked back into the lounge. She looked up at me, her face wet with tears.

"Um... ok." She said in a very small voice. I walked over and sat down on the couch next to her.

"Now, I know this is very upsetting for you, but I need you to tell me everything you can, so we can find the person who did this. So please, Mrs. Harrison, tell me what time you came over here to see your sister." I asked her gently.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Well," she whispered, "It was about seven thirty when I called her mobile, because she was still at work, to ask her if she still wanted to borrow my blender. She told me to drop it over asap. So I went home to get it, but I fell asleep in the car, in my driveway. I woke up at ten thirty. She usually gets home about then - she must have been early last night..."

I grabbed her hand as she burst into tears, a hysterical mess. I knew how hard it must be for her; I've seen this situation a thousand times, and I never really get over how much people lose from a merciless murder.

It took a while before I could get her to calm down again. I stopped asking her questions - I clearly wasn't going to be able to coax any more information out of her. I told her to call her husband to pick her up.

"Mrs Harrison, go home. Get some rest. And I'll call you if I find anything, or if I need to see you again, okay?" I gave her my card, and after safely assuring that her husband was on his way, I left the house, and got in my car. I needed to catch up on some very disturbed sleep...

The rain poured endlessly on the roof of my car, drumming loudly. It's ceaseless pattern was almost hypnotising - and twice I nearly fell asleep at the wheel. I was relived to get home. I walked up the wooden stairs and unlocked the door.

I shuffled sleepily throught the house, pushing open my door and flopping exhaustedly onto my bed, not even bothering to change into my pyjama's.

Chapter Two

I sat staring at the evidence log. It looked alright, but I felt like we'd missed something. Of course, I'd felt that way about the rest of these cases. Tony just thinks I'm losing my mind with old age. Definitely not so - I'm 29. He's 27. He's totally prejuduced. Ugh.

I didn't hear the door open, so I was surprised (or rather, scared witless) when I looked up from the log to see my Boss, Superintendant Reginald Scarper.

"Kath." He said, putting on a smug smile, knowing that he'd succeeded in scaring me.

"Reg." I replied with a slight nod of my head, acknowledging his win. You see, we have this thing going - we keep trying to scare the crap out of each other. I think it started when I met him back in high school. The first day, he scared me so bad that I spat my entire drink over the table. Not pretty. And ever since then I've been trying to get him back. But we were good friends, so it was just a bit of fun.

"Still looking at those evidence logs? You know Carter wouldn't have left anything behind. She's smarter than that." He pointed out. I sighed, knowing he was right, but I just had a feeling that even a miniscule piece of information could break this case. I didn't want to spend any more time than I had to trying to get into the mind of this asshole psychopath.

I was getting myself worked up - I could see myself shaking. It was too easy to get into a case like this. All at once intriguing, but so frustrating. There was a lot hinging on the case of this serial killer. If it even was a serial killer. For all we knew, it could be a copy cat, or even a group of killers. It was unlikely, but nontheless possible.

With a frustrated sigh, I put the logs on my desk, and got out of my chair.

"Where are you headed?" Reg asked as I walked out of my office.

"Anywhere but here."

*    *    *

When I get stressed, I do one of two things. I either attack the nearest object, or I go for a drive to clear my head. With the second one being the less destructive of the two, naturally that was the best option.

I love my car. I don't know much about cars, but my car is just perfect for me. It's a silver 2006 Chevrolet Aveo Hatchback, a pretty gift from my late mother. It was hers, but she left it to me in her will when she died two years ago. And that car has everything a Homicide cop like me could need: Air Conditioner, Stereo, and cute little cup holders, that my mother had installed. It's a pretty little car, and I love it to pieces.

On this occasion, I took to driving around the block with the A/C on full, and the stereo was playing something that sounded like Evanescence. It wasn't doing much to calm me, so I switched it off.

I tried to pull my mind away from the case, to concentrate on more trivial things, like getting in a carpet cleaner to clean up the mess from earlier in the week when my cousin smashed a bottle of red wine on my cream-coloured carpet. It didn't work. The aspects of the case kept rolling around in my mind, like annoying little marbles, too small for me to catch.

Looking out the window, I spotted a place I hadn't been to in years - a little restaurant/bar called The Manhattan. Last time I'd been there I was just starting out as detective. I couldn't remember why I'd stopped going there, but it probably didn't matter ayway.

Pulling into a spot right out front, I got out of my car and looked at the familiar facade. It was a nice place - once. It looked a little sleazy, and grimey too, but the faded blue and black walls of its exterior felt like home to me. I walked up the few steps, pushed open the glass door, and walked inside. Looking around, it hadn't changed much since I was last there. The tables and chairs were new - the chairs were red and velvety, and the tables were wood, rather than metal like they used to be.

"Kathy Marsh? Is that you?" Said a deep, slightly gravelly voice. I turned to see a familiar face - the old bartender, Max. He was an old friend of mine back when I was at Uni.

"Max." I replied warmly, walking over to shake his outstretched hand. "Good to see you, old man. How're you? And your wife, Mabel?"

"Oh, I'm fine. And Mabel's better than ever; she's been exstatic ever since our daughter, Cherrice - you remember her, right? - ever since she had her first daughter." His smile grew, lighting up his old, lined face.

"Cherrice had a daughter? That's great! How old?"

"Four months now, actually. Her name's Kimberley Ann."

I remembered Cherrice from the old days - she was a nice, young girl of about 17 when I last saw her, and blonde haired and blued, too. She was a real pretty one, and had a good head on her shoulders too.

"Well I'm real pleased for you Max. I'm sure you'll make a great grandfather." I grinned as he blushed bright red. Sitting down on a barstool, I asked Max to get me something small to drink.

He winked and said "I know just the thing," then disappeared into the back room. He came out five minutes later with a fizzy red drink in a tall glass. I opened my mouth to ask what was in it, when he interrupted me and said,

"Don't ask. Just drink." So I did. And I swear, it was the strangest thing I had every tasted. Mixtures of savoury and sweet that rolled together perfectly.

"Wow," I said, open mouthed in disbelief. "What's in it, old man?"

He chuckled in reply, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. But I can tell you a little, I suppose..." He leaned in conspiritorially. "I put in soda water, vodka and sweetened lemon juice."

"But why is it red?" I wondered out loud.

"My secret ingredient. Which, no matter how hard you try, I will not tell you. That's been my best kept secret for three years now." Max leaned back with a smug look on his face.

"Ok, Max. I won't ask. But I'll be thinking about it..."

"Good." He rubbed his hands together. "If you're thinking about it, you'll come back again."

He was quite right, I would be coming back. But much sooner than I had expected, and for a whole different reason...

*        *      *

I got home at around five pm. I unlocked the door, and as I opened it I said "Honey I'm home!" as my own personal joke. You see, I live alone. Well, pretty much, anyway...

At my call, my pretty little golden-retriever, Honey, came bounding down the hallway and started barking as she got in between my legs as I walked. I threw my coat on the couch, and walked into the kitchen to feed her the leftover chicken.

"Ok, puppy. Here you go." I mumbled, rubbing her head as she went for the food in her bowl.

I walked into my study and sat down in the brown leather chair, attempting to relax a little. I suppose my day at work doesn't seem all that hard, but after you go through the same experience night after night for a month or more, you get easily frustrated.

I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands. All those people, dead. And there wasn't a thing I could do about it. This guy was just too smart to leave a trace. And I knew that, until we managed to catch him, he'd just continue killing women. Women like me. Women like Sharon Deveraux, and all those other women whose final salute to the world was sitting in a file on my desk.

My reverie was broken by a massive dog kiss right on my face.

"Honey!" I giggled, trying to wipe the slobber off, and keep her from licking the rest of me at the same time. At that point, all sorrow was gone from my mind. But it was only a matter of time before I would be back on the case, and once again helpless in misery...

Chapter Three

I woke up the next morning at six, unable to sleep even with my living hot water bottle at my side. Half-asleep, I rolled out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to my bathroom, where I turned on the shower. As fast as can be expected of anyone like me in the early morning, I undressed and got into the shower, the hot water loosening my muscles and freshening me up for the strenuous day ahead.

I massaged the water into my scalp, relaxing my tensed muscles, and feeling the best I had in days. Of course, when I turned off the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and walked into my kitchen, I remembered the job ahead of me. My spirits took a nose-dive, to way below normal. This case was really affecting me. I guess it was because I really related to the murdered women - they were happy, and carefree, and they had no idea the end was so close. Not that I assumed I was going to die anytime soon, but death is part-and-parcel of a detective's job.

I pulled open the door to the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk. From the cupboard over the sink I grabbed a glass - too lazy to eat cereal. I drank the milk as I walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to my study. Pushing open the door with my free hand, I looked around the room. The walls were olive green, with mahogany bookshelves up against the left and right walls, stacked completely with books and files. Near the back of the room was my mahogany desk, set up with my computer and several files thrown around clumsily on top. Behind the desk, to the left of the large window, was a picture. A picture of me, Honey, and Mike Hills. It had been taken three years ago, when Mike and I were on holiday in Washington.

Absently I wiped a tear away from my eye - the photo had been taken only a week prior to Mike's death. Mike was a homicide cop, like me. We had been partners, friends, and then lovers. Mike eventually asked me to marry him. Our holiday in Washington was when he proposed. And then he was killed when we got home, as he was trying to get rid of a bunch of drunk, rowdy teenagers - one of them had a gun, and shot him in their drunk stupor. I watched the man I loved die in front of me.

Suffice to say, I was a bit uncontrollable for a while after that. I even considered quitting the force and becoming a hermit! Thankfully I came down from this - thanks to Honey, and my best friend Amy Wright (who is, incidentally, married to Mike's best friend Harvey, and one of the best damn musician's in the world). If it wasn't for them, I could still be seriously messed up.

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I walked around the desk and sat down, reclining gently in what I have to admit is the most comfortable desk chair in the world.

Quickly logging in to my computer, I immediately checked out my email. First thing at the top? An urgent message from Amy. I clicked it open and read it.

Hey, Kat.
Listen, there's a bit of an emergency down at the precinct, so I probably wont be able to meet you for lunch.

At this point I smacked my head - I'd forgotten all about lunch.

Cant catch up for coffee either - Harvey and I have to go and see his mother, which I probably going to be a worse nightmare than the one down at work!

I chuckled. If there was one thing she didn't like about her husband, it was definitely his mother. Those two got on like a house on fire, but in the situation where Harvey's mother kept trying to set Amy on fire. It was quite funny to watch, and hear about, but I tried not to laugh when Amy got on a rant. It just wouldn't be appropriate - not to mention that she was very capable of giving me a black eye, and likely a broken arm.

I'll catch up with you tomorrow night at the dinner and awards ceremony, ok bub?
Oops, I'm gonna be late. If there's anything you need, page me!
Hugs and best wishes,
Amy :)

I read the last of the email and sighed. I wasn't particularly looking forward the awards ceremony, considering I had avoided them like Amy avoids her mother-in-law since Mike died. Not to mention it would distract me from the case, which to me seemed like the last thing I should do, considering we still had no leads, no evidence, no nothing. But I had promised Amy I'd be there, so I would stick to my word - no matter how much I'd rather be anywhere else...

Chapter Four

As I sat in the rather uncomfortable chair, I yawned with boredom. I had remembered my dislike of these ceremonies, but not  how boring they were. It seemed that I wasn't the only one, though - several other people down the table were yawning as well.

Amy turned to me and smiled. "I know this isn't much fun for you, Kat. But you do need to be here."

"Any particular reason why?" I asked her, with a sideways glance.

"Does 'because you haven't been in years' count?"

"No."

"I didn't think so." She chuckled. "Just think of it as a way to get out of the house - something you haven't done much of lately."

I nodded, and turned my head back to the stage set up at the front of the hall, where the boss man was finishing up his "little" speech. Note the sarcastic emphasis on 'little' - Reg was not well known for being concise in his speeches. He had an uncanny knack for boring the life out of half the room in the space of two minutes. Don't get me wrong - the Lieutenant is a great guy, and a pretty smart boss, but he can surely talk for all he's worth.

"...and in conclusion, I'd just like to congratulate you all on a fine job done this past year. You've done our city proud once again." He smiled once, and lifted his glass of what appeared to be gin in a toast. "To you, our fine crew of law-enforcers."

There came a hearty whoop of celebration from the group as they downed their drinks - and it wasn't just because Reg had finished his speech. We truly had done well this past year, and we all knew it, too.

"Cheers to us, Kat!" I turned around to see Amy grinning at me, holding her half-full glass in the air. I grinned in return as we clinked our glasses and swallowed the rest of our drinks. I had a feeling I would have a sore head in the morning, but it didn't realy bother me - I was out with friends and people who knew me well, and for once in my life I didn't have to worry about policework, or bad guys, or paperwork. For at least that night, I was just a regular joe (or joe-ette, really) who had not a care in the world. And boy, did it feel good.

The band struck up a cool jazz number that I knew but couldn't recall the name of. I smiled as I saw a few happy couples take to the dance floor - it was good to see people actually having a good time.

"May I have this dance?" Said a familiar voice behind me. I shifted in my seat, and saw Reg standing in front of me. I had to admit, he'd certainly pulled himself together tonight. He looked quite dashing - for Reginald, that is - in his basic black tuxedo and silver blue tie. Standing up, I grinned at him.

"Why not?" I laughed, taking his offered hand, and he led me to the dance floor.  We danced awhile, talking about unimportant, but none-the-less interesting details of our lives. I did notice that he carefully skirted around any mention of my late partner. Understandable really - he clearly didn't want to upset me on the first occasion I managed to seperate myself from my house.

Suddenly Reg was tapped on the shoulder - and he spun around in surprise, to see a tall, blonde man with piercing blue eyes standing behind him.

"Charlie!" I exclaimed, rushing to give him a big hug. He stumbled back, laughing.

"Hey there, little sister."

Chapter Five

"When did you get here?" I continued, stepping back to look at him, a grin spreading across my face. "I haven't seen you since..." I trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.

"I know, but I couldn't wait to see my baby sister again. I don't get to see you enough, you know." He chuckled, tapping me lightly on the nose. " I got in yesterday - but it was pretty late, and I know how you feel about being woken up from a good sleep. And I would have caught up with you earlier today, but I had a little buisness to take care of. And, plus, you know I love any excuse to break out the old dancing shoes!" He struck a very hilarious saturday-night-fever-style pose, making me burst out laughing.

"Oh, I missed that laugh." Charlie grinned.

Suddenly someone coughed gently.

"Oh! Reg! Sorry, sorry. You remember my brother, Charles Marsh? And Charles, this is my boss, Superintendant Reginald Scarper. I think you two have met." I turned to face Reg, her face burning with embarrasment.

"Of course! It's been a while, hasn't it, Superintendant. The last time I saw you, it wasat a rather dramatic Christmas party... and I think you'd had a fair bit too much to drink, my friend." Charlie stuck out his hand in Reginald's direction.

Reginald laughed loudly. "Don't say it too loudly, I might lose my job. But you are right - and it's certainly nice to see you again. Glad you came." He took the offered hand and shook it briskly.

"Well, now that we're all introduced..." I smiled, letting Charlie finish my sentence.

"I suppose I should get that dance then, hmm?" He responded, smiling in turn.

"You two have fun." Reginald patted Charlie on the shoulder. "Nice to have seen you again, Charles. Do drop in at the office some time." Hw turned and walked back to his table, throwing a grin over his shoulder as he went.

"So, little sister, can you still dance as well as you used to?" Charlie had a rather mischevious look in his eyes.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Oh, you know it is."

*    *    *

Though neither of us was roaring drunk, we left the hall staggering to walk from laughing so hard. It was good for the both of us to be together again - like old times.

"So where are you staying?" I asked slightly tripping as I shuffled over to my car.

"The Darlington Hotel."

"Not anymore. You're staying at my place." Charlie tried to argue, but I cut him off. "It's a great deal lighter on the wallet, and besides, that spare room of mine is getting quite lonely. And what's more, you're my brother. Isn't it technically correct for me to offering you hospitality?"

Charlie sighed." With you, there really is no arguing. Shall I get my cases tonight, or have them sent?"

"Yippee!" I launched myself at him, wrapping him in a bear-hug.

He chuckled, slowly untangling me. "I'll have them sent for. Though more expensive, I suspect you'd have a nervous breakdown if I didn't."

"Lies." I laughed, fishing my car keys out of my handbag. "Did you get a taxi?"

"Do you see a car?" I glanced around. The only other cars were ones I recognised as belonging to several other guys on the force.

"Nope. Well, in that case, did you want to drive?"

"Do I ever!" He practically leaped into the front seat, before remembering her needed the keys. Sheepishly, he came back and took them from my outstretched palm.

"And you call me eager, brother dear." I shook my head mock-seriously, trying to hide my smile.

*unfinished*