Chapter 69
Chapter 69
Chapter 69
Ariel didn’t realize she’d been staring at the crime board for almost an hour until Micheal quietly pushed a cup of coffee beside her elbow. The caffeine stung her nose— but she took a sip anyway. Anything to keep her upright.
Pinned across the board were faces of women whose lives had been carved away by the same merciless hand. Freya. Lila from Eclipse. Two others from years back whose files Micheal had dug up from an abandoned case folder.
And now, a new file rested between them like a fresh wound.
Lila’s autopsy photos were more violent than Freya’s, deeper gashes, the burns more deliberate, almost furious.
“Anger escalation,” Micheal muttered, leaning over Ariel’s shoulder.
Ariel exhaled shakily. “He’s losing patience..” She rubbed her temple.
“Dr. Vasquez confirmed the knife i found in the alley matches the serrated injury pattern. But still nothing—no prints, no skin cells, nothing. He’s too smart.”
“He’s careful,” Micheal replied. “Almost obsessive.”
Ariel nodded slowly. “Which tells us something.”
Before she could finish, Officer Leon barged into the room, panting. His eyes were wide,
“Hospital just called. We’ve got a survivor—attempted attack last night. Same MO. She’s stable and asking for police.”
Ariel’s pulse spiked. Finally—finally, a break.
She and Micheal exchanged a look, grabbed their coats, and bolted from the station, the cold morning wind biting their faces as they rushed to the car.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic, the kind of place where trauma felt out of place even though it lived in every hallway. Ariel followed Micheal down two corridors, turning into a private recovery room where a nurse silently stepped aside.
Mia Torres lay on the bed, hooked to monitors, her arms wrapped in gauze from wrist to elbow—fresh defensive wounds. A dark bruise ringed her throat like an ugly necklace. Her eyes flew open the second they entered, panic flaring, then dimming into weary relief.
“You’re the police?” she whispered,
“Yes,” Ariel said softly, moving closer. “I’m Detective Ariel Lawson. This is Detective Micheal Reyes. You’re safe now, Mia. We’re here to help.”
Mia swallowed hard. Her breath trembled. “He… he almost killed me. If I hadn’t grabbed the fire extinguisher—”
Her voice broke. Ariel sat gently at the edge of the bed. “Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”
It took a full minute before Mia nodded.
“He followed me after work,” she began, her voice thin. “I work at Nightfall Lounge. We close at two. I always take the back exit.” Her eyes blurred with tears. “I felt someone behind me. Then something hit me. Hard.” She touched her forehead lightly. “When I woke up, my hands were tied. I was on the ground somewhere dark—maybe an alley. He was standing over me.”
Ariel leaned forward. “What did he look like?”
“Tall… maybe six foot. Strong. He wore gloves, all black, hood up. But his voice…” Mia shivered violently. “He kept calling me ‘unclean.’ Like I was dirty. He said he needed to fix me. Cleanse me….. and said justice must be served, he kept rambling about the word justice.”
Ariel and Micheal exchanged a glance.
Justice.
It matched the scratches found near Freya’s crime scene. It matched the carved symbols on Lila’s torso.
Ariel forced her tone to stay calm. “Did he say anything else?”
Mia nodded tightly. “He said… ‘You women ruined everything.’ As if he knew me.” Her tears spilled. “I swear I’ve never seen him before.”
Ariel jotted everything down, but her mind was already racing.
“Did you smell anything? Anything unusual?” Micheal asked.
Mia hesitated. Then her eyes widened. “Yes. A scent. Cologne. Strong, expensive—it reminded me of the VIP guests at the club. Not musky. More like… wood and spice. Foreign.”
Ariel’s heart thudded.
Same cologne at Freya’s scene. At Eclipse. At the old files.
“We’ll protect you,” Ariel said firmly. “You’re not alone.”
Mia nodded, but fear lingered in her eyes. Fear that wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
Back at the station, Ariel paced as Micheal typed up the official report. Her mind kept replaying Mia’s description.
And the cologne—there were only three confirmed bottles purchased in the entire city last year. It cost more than her rent. More than Micheal’s too.
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking,” Micheal said, swiveling his chair toward her.
Ariel met his gaze. “The killer isn’t random. He’s organized, methodical. Intelligent. Probably mid-thirties or early forties. Someone who worked near the victims. Someone who views women through a lens of purity and corruption.”
“The cologne narrows the field,” Micheal added. “I cross-checked the city’s registered luxury fragrance purchases.” He clicked another tab. “Guess who owns one of the bottles?”
Ariel raised a brow. “Who?”
Micheal hesitated. “Detective Rowan.”
Ariel froze.
Rowan. Someone who had been at every briefing. Who had walked the hallways with them. Who had stayed late on multiple nights.
Her heart sank. “No. It can’t be him.”
Micheal didn't look convinced either. “I’m not saying it’s Rowan. But it’s suspicious.”
Ariel bit the inside of her cheek. “Let’s bring him in for questioning.”
Just then, Captain Harris stepped in. “No one is questioning a fellow officer without hard evidence,” he snapped. “You two tread lightly.”
When Harris left, Micheal whispered, “Feels like someone doesn’t want us looking too closely.”
Ariel couldn’t deny it.
They pulled up more records, focusing on another suspect connected to all the victims—the wealthy business associate tied to Mr. Cole’s operations, the man with deep ties to the city’s political underbelly.
Damien Kane.
Ariel clenched her jaw. “He funded Cole’s foundation. Half the victims worked for him at some point.”
“We need to talk to him again,” Micheal agreed.
But before they could head out, Ariel caught a faint smell on Rowan’s empty desk as they walked past.
The very scent Mia described.
Her breath hitched.
Was it coincidence?
She forced herself to look away, to breathe. She couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions—not again.
But the unease stayed with her as she and Micheal left the station.
Hours later, the sun dipped low when they arrived at Damien Kane’s mansion. The towering gates opened reluctantly.
Kane greeted them with a stiff smile. “Detectives. Again. To what do I owe this persistent pleasure?”
Ariel folded her arms. “Another woman was attacked last night. From a club under your investment circle. Your name is tied to every victim in some way.”
Kane’s smile vanished. “Are you accusing me?”
“We’re asking questions,” Micheal said evenly.
But Kane’s eyes sharpened with annoyance. “And I’m telling you I’m not involved. I barely knew them. My business supports dozens of establishments. You can’t blame me for what happens to every employee.”
Ariel studied him.
Something definitely felt… wrong.
Still, without evidence, she had nothing solid.
That night, back at the station, Ariel replayed Mia’s testimony in her mind again and again.
Unclean.
Justice.
Cologne.
A pattern she could feel tightening around them like a noose.
She exhaled shakily. “Micheal… we’re missing something.”
He looked up from his paperwork. “What's that?“