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Chapter 1

Ribesville, November 2003

SIMON

It was 7:50 am. I still had ten more minutes, and around twenty meters to the local law enforcement office, where I worked as a junior investigator.

I adjusted my crimson coat and brushed away my hair, catching my reflection in someone's car window. I always did it, it had become some sort of routine. I wanted to make sure I looked my best – even on dreary November mornings, when the wind was blowing in strong gusts, and the sun barely showed its face.

I stepped into the building, greeted the doorman, and headed for my office. I exchanged helloes with some colleagues, and with others just smiles. They were busy escorting criminals to the interrogations, and didn't have time to talk.

I quickly entered the office, hanged my coat on the wall, and opened the blinds. Then, I put our new electric kettle on, and turned on my computer. I was just about to type in the password when Kaetan entered the room.

“Good morning, Simon,” he greeted me, and merely hearing his deep, rich voice made me nervous. I needed a moment to calm down. Even though we've worked together for some time already, I always reacted like this to him.

“Morning, Kaetan,” I murmured quickly, my gaze fixated on the computer's screen. I promised myself, I'd look at him later. I had the whole day to shamelessly stare at him. The entire week, actually, as today was Monday. My favorite day, as I finally got to see him after the weekend.

We were work partners and he was a senior investigator working for the district attorney. Everyone knew him, and although he’d just turned twenty-seven, he’d already enjoyed our office’s respect and got some real recognition.

I watched him hanging his autumnal yellow coat on the wall. It was the only splash of color he wore – his usual outfit consisted of black jeans and a dark grey shirt. He was tall and handsome; and his face symmetrical. He had rebellious, messy hair brushed up and to the side, which only made him more attractive, and his sparkling eyes looked at the world with a very warm, amber shade. I loved these eyes, and I loved him. Working together was both a blessing and a curse – it gave me endless mini heart attacks, which were wonderful and painful at the same time.

“Want some coffee?” Kaetan asked.

“Sure. The water’s hot.”

“Perfect.” He made coffee, then walked out of our office, and returned a couple of minutes later, with a brown-paper folder in his hand.

“Is this a new case?” I asked.

“No,” he shook his head and walked up to my desk. “I’m looking at another case file for what we've worked on last week...” He shared and opened the folder, putting it right in front of me. I looked down, at the red marks. Even though I was in love with him, I just couldn’t help sighing in exasperation.

Not this again!

“Kaetan, I’ve already told you that this can’t be the work of one person,” I informed him, still picking a few pages to analyze them carefully. It contained information about a murder that took place a decade ago, or so. It was one of these shelved cases that went never solved. We had plenty of them in this town, and many seemed connected to each other, and to new cases as well. Kaetan was convinced that there was one person behind it, but I seriously doubted it.

Even if we were talking about a serial killer, right now, he'd probably be quite old and clumsy. He should slip somehow, make a mistake, leave some clue which would lead us to him... right?

However, the killings were meticulously planned, and their execution was so perfect that it was hard to believe it was the work of an aging human, who, at this time, would already be well over eighty years of age.

Thus, the one person theory didn't hold water, unless we assumed that the killer had supernatural abilities. I didn't believe in these things, and couldn't understand why Kaetan was so stubborn, obsessing over the theory of one person behind it.

Did he know something I had no idea about?...

“Look at the photos, Simon,” he ordered, leaning closer. “These murders must be committed by one person! Look, the throat was slit at the exact same place in case of all victims. Then, there are bite marks on the neck and shoulders, as well... All creating the same pattern.”

“So what? They could have been done by members of one group,” I opposed.

I loved him, but this was work, and I wasn't going to give in to his theory, that I found flawed.

“Oh yeah? And how would they get the same size of the bites?! Do they recruit people with identical teeth?”

I chuckled, hearing this. “Don’t be silly... They could have been using something else, a metal instrument crafted especially for the purpose... In my view, we are definitely dealing with a group that’s trying to style all murders as the work of one person.”

“I know, but if what you’re saying is right... Then, this group, would need to have many members, over decades. They may have been sharing knowledge from generation to generation, yes, but criminals tend to be creative, there would surely be some changes in the technique, right?”

“Not all are creative,” I countered. “Many keep copying old cases...”

“This would only increase proof against them. It must be one person, who’s very proud of their technique,” Kaetan insisted. “They’re either using teeth, or some tool, to make that elaborate bite pattern. We’ve been keeping information about victims secret, unless there was some group from the beginning, invited by the killer, others would have no chance to know how they’re marking victims.”

“Kaetan, this... This has been going on for decades,” I reminded him gently, noticing that he was already irritated, I disagreed with him. “How can we know that there weren’t any info leaks? We’ve never said anything, but what about other old dogs in this law enforcement office? Do you think they’re tight-lipped, when they get drunk every Friday in ratty pubs?”

“Actually, I do, Simon,” Kaetan said stubbornly. “We’re investigators fighting for justice, not gossip girls.”

At this point, I couldn’t help but smile. We were in the middle of a heated professional argument, and I didn’t intend to lose to him; however, I was still so fond of him... He had true faith in our office, and it was his thirst for the truth that made him develop this serial killer’s theory. He took each case so severely that he didn't hesitate to analyze all solutions – even the ones which defied reason...

Then, the phone on my desk rang, like a school bell indicating the end of our debate. I picked up, and in less than a minute, my face turned pale. I jotted some things in my notebook and then ended the call. For a short white, I didn’t know what to say, how to announce the sad news. But, Kaetan read it all from my face anyways.

“Another victim, yeah?” He muttered.

“Unfortunately...” I grimaced. “Priest Peter was found dead in his church. And, he’s not the only one.”

*

When we parked our cars in front of the church, I instantly noticed a crowd gathered near the shadowy, arched entrance. The policemen had already cordoned off the entry. Still, some parishioners refused to leave. They came here for the mass, yet instead of receiving guidance and blessing, they faced terrible news... Their favorite priest, had fallen like a forest tree.

Seeing their heartbroken faces made my heart sink.

“Hey,” Kaetan softly touched my arm. “We’ve got this, Simon, don't worry... Justice will triumph.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I said, turning my face away from him. “It just... It won’t bring back Priest Peter. I’m not religious, but so many other people are, and, I can’t even imagine what they’re going through right now.”

Kaetan said nothing, contemplating my words. When I glanced into his golden eyes, I noticed that they were full of emotions: helplessness, sorrow, compassion... I expected he’d say something to comfort me. Something like, God has a plan for this town. God doesn't let evil happen, if it doesn't result in a greater good.

However this time, he didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't know what; or perhaps, he didn't want to talk about God.

As I contemplated this, he he stepped closer to me and grabbed my arm. Taking advantage of my mini heart attack, he pulled me forwards, toward the church’s entrance.

*

We grouped with the policemen and asked about the situation. Apparently, one of the nuns found Priest Peter when preparing the hall around six in the morning. He was found on the altar, with a candle holder stick stabbed in his chest. The police arrived, and almost instantly found another body: the gardener’s. He was lying dead in the rose garden, near the bushes, a gardening spade lying next to him. It must have been the murder weapon, judging by blood strains on it. And according to the police, the gardener was hit on the head, from behind.

I squatted, to take a closer look at the body. If the gardener saw the perpetrator and fought against them, there would have been some signs of struggle... But there weren’t any, I was sure of that. So, he didn't see them... He might have heard them, though. He had a hearing aid in his ear, which worked just fine, the forensic doctor said.

How come then, that he didn’t hear the killer approaching him? It happened so early, at dawn... He should have heard another person’s steps... The town was extremely quiet and silent in the mornings - I knew because, I was one of those people who always got up early.

The gardening spade drew my attention again. It was stained with blood, but... Was it the murder weapon? Perhaps, he was the one carrying it. As the killer hit him, some blood might have splattered on it, and then, he just dropped it from shock. Then, the killer ran off with the real weapon, and the gardener fell down, right next to the spade.

But why would he do gardening work at dawn, when he had the whole day?

Could it be, something lured him out, and he took that gardening spade with himself, as a weapon? Yeah, that seemed probable.

It could have also been, that he heard some sound, and dropped it, and then, the killer swiftly took it, and hit him... This would explain, why there weren’t any signs of struggle.

Wait, when was he killed, actually? Before, or after the priest? This was something I was really interested in, as it could give a new light to the case.

Chapter 2

According to the testimonials interrogated, the priest was loved by the local community. However, the gardener wasn't well known. It seemed more likely that the priest was the main victim, and the gardener, an accidental one... But, I couldn’t file my report with assumptions, I needed concrete facts that would support this theory.

What if it was the other way round?

Or, what if the perpetrator wanted to murder them both?

If yes... Then why?

I racked my brains, trying to figure out an answer, and in the meantime, Kaetan kept interviewing an acolyte. When he finished, we entered the church, to examine the priest’s body. Again, there weren't any signs of a fight... No furniture was shifted or unturned, and there were no scuff marks left on the floor. The priest looked like he chose to lay on the altar out of his own will, after which, he stabbed himself with the candle holder stick.

I kept scanning the environment for clues; however, I didn't find anything special. I walked up to my partner, wondering if he had something attention-worthy.