It was 2am and Will was exhausted.
The wind howled through the dark and empty streets, tearing erratically at Will’s clothes.
A single street lamp tried to illuminate the darkness with its flickering light as he made his way down the road.
Will pressed his coat tighter around himself, trying to stop the shaking of his hands. It smelt like rain and the air felt sharp in his nostrils as if it weren’t 80 degrees but 40.
He turned around the last corner and found the crime scene buzzing with people processing evidence, taking photos and writing down notes. The flashes were sharp sparks behind Will’s eyes.
Words were exchanged in quiet whispers, everybody glancing at the corpse now and then as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.
Will could understand them. The work of the Chesapeake Ripper always left an impression of the strongest kind and it was no different this time.
The body had been opened up and almost turned inside out, spreading a sea of blood all through the street.
What once had been red and glistening in the setting sun was now a black crust covering everything in a circle of about ten feet.
The edges of the bloody lake had been guided to flow into elegant swirls over rough concrete, creating the illusion of an artful mandala. The smell of metal lay heavy in the air.
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