Narrative Shift

A curious thing it is to murder someone. I mean, who wakes up one morning and decides that today’s a good day to take someone’s life? The thing is, no one in their right mind should wake up thinking that; the problem is that some people do. Is it mental illness? Revenge? Pure hatred? These are the things one must consider when discussing a case with a victim. The body at the scene of the crime isn’t just a body. He or she is a story and I, as a homicide detective, have the sort of nasty job of telling that story. Whether at the end of the day I’ve told it verbatim or read between the lines, the only thing I need 100% right is the “whodunnit” on the final page. It’s always the last page of the story that has everyone on the edge of their seats, and some might very well skip to the last page. I, however, do not have that luxury.

For instance, I’m working a case right now: several victims, with more popping up every few days. If I could skip to the last page of this story right now, I could save countless lives. Instead, I’m decoding encrypted messages from our killer as he taunts us from wherever his hideout may be. He’s a ticking time bomb until the next time he strikes, and I’ve got pressure from every corner telling me I’ve got to solve the case fast, but I genuinely don’t know what to do.

What we know so far is that he’s most likely a male between the ages of 20 and 30 by the force used in each murder and by a set of footprints found at one of the scenes. His shoe size is a 12, that is, if those were his shoes, and he is most likely working alone. The messages he sends have no DNA and are straight out of every other serial killer’s handbook. He can’t even be original. His latest message was an exact dupe of one left by the Zodiac Killer so many years ago. His targeted demographic is young men and women, and we cannot seem to link any of them so far. It just feels like he’s finding someone random every few days and helping them kick the bucket.

It’s been quite a few days since I’ve made any moves and the cops are surely on their toes waiting for more. The truth is, I haven’t stumbled upon anyone worth killing again. Most people are just easy game at this point. Don’t get me wrong; that was fun the first couple times, but I’m bored now. I want a challenge, someone that stands a fighting chance, someone I can play the long game with. I want an adventure, where maybe it’s touch and go, maybe they get away the first time and just when they think they’ve beaten me, I’ll come back. This whole thing’s fun and all, but I want more.

I watched the cops survey the last crime scene and one stood out in particular. He could become a good option. He’s fit and obviously armed, so I’d have to be careful, and he knows a lot about me. It’s kind of flattering how much time he’s invested in me so far. It’s almost as if he’s infatuated with finding me, so what if I were to find him first?

This could be incredibly stupid of me to go after him, especially if he’s the leading detective on my files. However, this could also be incredibly fun and even satisfying if I get away with it again, just like every other time. I have nothing and everything to lose at this point. They have nothing on me because I’ve done nothing original so far. Nothing I do is unique or original. I don’t have a tag or a preference, which makes it significantly harder to pin me down. I’m practically invincible. I think at the next crime scene I’ll leave a clue to lure him to my “hideout,” when in reality it’ll be a trap set to perfection.

This guy is crazy if he thinks he’s invincible. I just got back from a new crime scene investigation, his seventh victim. He was an older man this time and was likely not killed in the spot we found him. Something doesn’t quite add up, though. Why was this body planted while the rest stayed where they were killed? I went back to the scene to do a second sweep and what I found was hilariously incriminating. I believe he’s setting me up for a trap, he has to be. You see, the body is ever so delicately placed behind a dumpster, leaned up against a wall and staged to be smoking a cigarette. As I was pacing the scene I felt as though I was being watched, as if the killer’s eyes were on me and I was inches away from catching his gaze. I shivered uncomfortably and decided on a gut feeling to go check out the cigarette one more time; it was back at the station now as evidence. It’s obvious I was supposed to notice it as it was the only thing different than every other murder. He finally used a tag. For the first time, he’d done something constructive and original. The question is why? Why now?

I must be a genius because upon returning to investigate the cigarette, my gut feeling was backed up by real, cold, hard facts. The evidence analysis suggested it was from the old factory a couple of towns over that was shut down years ago. It seemed right out of a movie how everything lined up perfectly to point out a secret hideout of some sort for our killer. It was way too perfect and clean-cut, though. This was obviously an intentional plan, I mean he placed the cigarette there after all, on purpose where we would find it. Trap or not, we would survey the location in the morning.

...

I was on my way out of the office when I noticed something hanging out of my mail slot, which was strange considering I had already gotten mail delivered to me earlier. I grabbed the manilla folder, opening it to a page with words written in newspaper cut-outs stating, COME ALONE AND COME NOW.” Again I felt the gaze of unwanted eyes on my neck and shuddered. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to pursue a murderer on my own. I placed the file on my desk and went home for the night. I would deal with it in the morning.

How could he ignore my message like that? I really believed Detective Carter and I had a connection. But no! I watched him drop my message on his desk and just walk out; how disrespectful of him. I want to teach him a lesson. I don’t want to wait any longer to meet my next victim. I want him to feel sorry for disregarding me this way.

I followed him into a pizza place down the street from where he lived. Really? He’s ignoring his major break in the case, and my trap because he’s hungry? Or maybe he’s smarter than I thought and knew I was setting him up.

I ordered a couple of slices and made small talk with the owner while Detective Carter sat and ate, occasionally chiming in. We talked about the rise of the latest serial killer and how Carter plans on stopping him. His first name is Jason in case you were wondering. He wants to stop this heathen from killing so that he feels safer when his family is out and about without him. He’s a real family guy, this one. Too bad he threw away his biggest lead for a few slices of pizza. We both finished up around the same time and I paid for the Detective’s food. It’s the morally right thing to do you know: give back to those who serve your community and keep us all safe. We walked and talked for the longest time until we reached his house. He’s not such a bad guy, you know. Maybe our connection was real after all. I can’t wait to play with this one. Best victim yet.

I met the coolest guy on my way home from work. I live in a small town so I walked to the nearest pizza place to get dinner before going home for the night. He walked a couple of minutes after me, chatting it up about how he’s all these conspiracies about the killer on the loose. He even saluted me for putting my life on the line to keep our town safe. His theories were almost spot on, too; it was like he was trying to steal my own job as lead detective! The kid really knew what he was talking about and on top of his smarts, he paid for my meal, thanking me for all I’ve done for the town.

He walked with me all the way to my house, so I’m assuming he must live on the far end of time. He was a little awkward when we parted, as if something was going to happen but didn’t, but other than that it was a perfect end to a successful night.

“Hey, you know what?” I turned around to face the detective again, pulling the knife out of my back pocket.

“What?” Jason asked.

“I’m not even mad anymore that you ignored my note, Jason! Because you know what? You’re a real stand up guy in person!”

I lunged at him, covering his mouth as I attacked. I guess there’d be no getting away this time. No round two, unfortunately. But hey, who can predict these things, am I right? I managed to get him into the nearby alley, the dead of night time hiding our quarrel. He was strong, but my surprise encounter caught him off guard, giving me the upper hand. I didn’t want to kill him just yet, but it was looking like if I didn’t, he might never give me the chance again. Oooh, how I love the excitement.

I should have been smarter than this. I trained my entire career for a moment like this. Now I’m fighting a man I should have known was suspicious from the start. He was practically explaining his entire mindset to me at dinner! God, I am so so stupid.

He’s gotten a few stabs in but how can get the upper hand? I’m carrying a concealed weapon. I just need to get to it without him doing too much damage. I’m fighting back the best I can, but I need space and time to get to it. I finally managed to get him off of me, five stabs and a few punches later. He’s on the ground a couple of feet away from me. Both of us are exhausted. The next few seconds are crucial and as I’m able to reveal my weapon he’s already on top of me again with his own. BANG!

It’s a funny feeling being shot. You no longer feel invincible. You’re not necessarily dead yet, but you can feel you’re getting there. I laid down onto the ground in my own world now. It’s been fun, that’s for sure. I got the plot twist, edge of your seat excitement I had been hoping for. Too bad I won’t get to live for another adventure.

I look up briefly to see the detective on the ground as well. I can’t help but use my last few breaths to laugh. We’re going to the same place, our connection is real. There’s no one to save him, either, and I’ve done too much damage for him to save himself. I spend my dying moments laughing at the fact that no one has won. Neither of us will leave this as champions.

It’s a funny feeling being stabbed so many times. You know you’re over. I can’t help it and I can’t change it. I finally got my ending of the story, though. One that I won’t be able to tell verbatim but hopefully someone can read between the lines. It’s fairly obvious anyway, the “whodunit” of it all. It’s cut and dry at this point.

I spend my last few breaths looking over my own body at his. I never learned his name. Did he even have one? I gave him one in my head: Josh. I chuckled at myself for that one. I don’t really know why; it just fits. I’m looking over at this young man who has given everything up to take lives, even down to his very own. I spend my dying moments laughing at him. He has failed. He will kill no more. Whether anyone recognizes it or not, I won. I am the champion of this story.