"We should call in Lila."
Detective Tom Reilly dropped the photo he held in his fingers, and leaned back in his seat to stare at his partner, Jarrod Blair, with those words.
"I'm not sure, Jarrod," he replied as his gaze was drawn back to the image of the bruised and battered, naked and defiled woman that had landed face up on his wooden desk in the 96th precinct. The one whose slim, attractive features, age, long brunette hair, and deep brown eyes reminded him of his wife, and the mention of her name in connection to the case sent a shiver down his spine. In fact, she could have been the victims sister.
Not that you could tell from the crime-scene photo's, in those she was barely recognisable at a human being at all, however, beside that, sat one of Stephanie Davies, obtained from her family taken a couple of years previously, where on a beach, dressed in a modest blue sun-dress, with hair flowing in the wind, and smiling at the camera as if she hadn't have a care in the world. Now she was dead. Stalked, and toyed with for months, sexually assaulted and hounded, by some sick fucking psyhco, before he'd finally decided it was time to end his game, and had brutally raped her, before her throat was cut. …show more content…
Mid-thirties, long brunette hair, slim, athletic bodies, and brown eyes. They had a pattern, and for the first time in his career, the thirty-eighy year old, who'd investigated multiple homicides, suicides, and accidental deaths, of virtually every variety. had a serial-killer on his hands. And to be honest, it excited
Detective Tom Reilly dropped the photo he held in his fingers, and leaned back in his seat to stare at his partner, Jarrod Blair, with those words.
"I'm not sure, Jarrod," he replied as his gaze was drawn back to the image of the bruised and battered, naked and defiled woman that had landed face up on his wooden desk in the 96th precinct. The one whose slim, attractive features, age, long brunette hair, and deep brown eyes reminded him of his wife, and the mention of her name in connection to the case sent a shiver down his spine. In fact, she could have been the victims sister.
Not that you could tell from the crime-scene photo's, in those she was barely recognisable at a human being at all, however, beside that, sat one of Stephanie Davies, obtained from her family taken a couple of years previously, where on a beach, dressed in a modest blue sun-dress, with hair flowing in the wind, and smiling at the camera as if she hadn't have a care in the world. Now she was dead. Stalked, and toyed with for months, sexually assaulted and hounded, by some sick fucking psyhco, before he'd finally decided it was time to end his game, and had brutally raped her, before her throat was cut. …show more content…
Mid-thirties, long brunette hair, slim, athletic bodies, and brown eyes. They had a pattern, and for the first time in his career, the thirty-eighy year old, who'd investigated multiple homicides, suicides, and accidental deaths, of virtually every variety. had a serial-killer on his hands. And to be honest, it excited