Rick ducked under the tape, his shoes crunching on the grit of the sidewalk, the smoke from his cigarette a ragged banner trailing after him. The alley beyond was a narrow wound in the cityscape, hemmed in by graffiti-scrawled walls and overflowing dumpsters, the air fetid with the stew of rotting garbage, stale urine, and rainwater gone stagnant in the potholes. The forensic team had already done their grisly work and packed away their instruments, but the place still bore the heavy-handed signature of death.
The chalk outline remained, stark on the cracked concrete, a pale cruciform figure sprawled as if nailed to an invisible cross. Rick crouched beside it, cigarette dangling from his lip, eyes narrowed against the diffuse glare as he studied the ghost of violence left behind. Last night’s storm had tried its best to wash the sins clean, smearing the blood into thin rust-colored streaks, but some residue remained, stubbornly dark in the seams of the pavement—and to Rick’s sharpened senses, the iron tang still tainted the stones like a whispered memory.
No struggle. No drag marks. No scuffle imprinted into the filth and debris. The body had been placed deliberately, laid out with cold, meticulous care.
Stagecraft,Rick thought grimly.A performance meant to be witnessed.
He remembered the first scene, when one of the rookies murmured,looks like a sculptor working in flesh.The others had snorted, brittle humor trying to keep the horror at bay.Yeah, realMichelangelo of nightmares,someone muttered. The name stuck after that.
Rick’s gaze lifted to the brick above the outline. The symbol was still there, barely, blurred into a rusty smear, only faint strokes left to mark the killer’s hand. Soon enough, the cleanup crew would scrub it like they had the others. But for now, the looping, serpentine shape clung to the wall’s uneven face, its meaning eluding him like a word in a foreign tongue.
“Looks even uglier in daylight,” Frank muttered, folding his arms as he stood behind Rick.
Rick grunted an acknowledgment, dragging on his cigarette. His mind ticked over the details with the deliberate, relentless precision that had made him a detective long before the badge made it official. He could almost see it: a car idling briefly at the curb, a body hauled out like it was trash, arranged quickly beneath the shroud of night, the glyph smeared on the wall in one deft, contemptuous gesture.
He straightened up, his knee clicking with the motion, and ground the butt of his cigarette under his heel. His gaze dragged back to the cruciform shape, to the flaking rust-brown stain clinging to the mortar between bricks, to the gaping emptiness where a young man’s life had been erased without remorse.
Calgrave swallowed a thousand such deaths every year, chewing them down into unsolved files and cold case archives. But Rick felt it in his bones—this one was different. There was a design here, a purpose humming low and dark below the surface. And he intended to figure it out, come hell or high water.
A sharpclicksliced through the hush. Rick’s head snapped to the alley mouth, where a lean figure crouched just beyond the tape, camera poised mid-shot. His dark overcoat flared as he straightened, revealing a slate-gray suit far too nice for theweather and a gleaming press badge clipped to his belt like a weapon.
“Frost,” Rick growled, already striding toward him.
Declan Frost,Calgrave Gazette’s front-page hound, adjusted the focus ring on his shooter with delicate care, then glanced up and gave a breezy wave, the kind meant to infuriate. His hat framed a face built to be underestimated: smooth skin, high cheekbones, a mouth made for smirking. Dark blond hair barely visible under the brim. He could’ve passed for a choirboy—until you noticed the eyes, glacial-blue, quick as switchblades. The kind that missed nothing and gave even less away.
“Detective,” he said, feigning surprise with a seasoned charm. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Rick stopped just shy of the tape. “This is a restricted area. You want me to break your fingers or just smash the lens?”
“I was only documenting public interest,” Frost replied, unfazed. “This alley’s technically visible from the street. First Amendment still means something, doesn’t it? Even in this town.”
Rick leaned in, voice gruff and tight. “You print one fucking thing about this, I’ll have you scraping classifieds for a living.”
Frost’s smirk deepened. “People have a right to know what’s going on.” He nodded toward the chalk outline, his voice dropping slightly. “A source told me the head was missing. Again. That’s five, isn’t it?”
Frank stepped beside Rick, glowering. “One more word, Frost, and we’ll book you for obstruction.”
“Obstruction?” Frost blinked with mock innocence. “That’s a new one.”
Just then, the patrol officer who’d been posted at the alley came jogging up, breathless and clutching a paper cup. “Sorry, Detectives! He must’ve slipped past while I was grabbing my coffee.”
Rick glared at him. “Next time, try using your eyes instead of your mouth.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Oh, give the guy a break, Slade,” Frost drawled. “I’ve slipped past tougher men than him. And some of them were even trying to catch me.”
Rick’s jaw clenched, his eyes snapping back to Frost’s. The remark wasn’t just a boast—it had teeth, a jab from a case he hadn’t forgotten. “Get lost. Before I forget I’m supposed to play by the rules.”
Frost held up both hands in mock surrender, retreating a step, the camera swinging lightly from his neck. “Hey, no need to get physical. Just doing my job.”
“And doing it like a fucking parasite,” Frank muttered.
Frost was already backing off, but not before firing off one last shot—first with the shutter, then with a grin. “You can try to shut me out, Slade. But the truth always leaks out. Sooner or later. And I’ve never been one to wait.” Then he vanished down the street, slipping into the pedestrian tide like smoke on the wind.
Rick stared after him, hands flexing at his sides. “Goddamn vulture. How the hell does he keep getting to our crime scenes so fast?”
Frank grunted. “The captain’s going to have our asses if that punk prints a single photo.”
