Beneath a shroud of thick, unsettling mist, the middle school stood like a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. The quiet of the night was shattered by the wail of police sirens, their red and blue lights flickering off the school's brick walls.
A woman in a worn yet determined trench coat stepped out of the building, her breath visible in the chill air. Detective Sarah Holt. As the press began to gather like vultures at the gates, her phone buzzed sharply in her pocket. One glance at the caller ID made her roll her eyes and rub her forehead.
"Yes, sir," she said into the phone, her tone clipped. "I understand. But if we're really involving the FBI... him? Of all people?" A sigh escaped her lips as she listened, then finally relented. "Fine. Just know this is going to be a bigger headache than you think."
As she hung up, her assistant approached with a raised eyebrow. "Everything all right, ma'am?" he asked. She gave a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Buckle up. We're about to have company."
Meanwhile, across town, a man stumbled out of a dimly lit bar, his phone buzzing in his hand. Half-dazed and muttering curses, he answered only to groan, "For fuck's sake... all right!, I'll go." Frustration mounting as no cab stopped for him, he finally strode into the middle of the road, arms wide, a dare in his eyes. The taxi driver had no choice but to slam the brakes. Without a word, he slid into the backseat, flashed a hint of something under his coat that made the driver's face go pale, and growled an address. The driver, thoroughly intimidated, drove off toward the school.
When he arrived, the woman was waiting, lifting the police tape to let him in. "You look like death warmed over," she said dryly. He gave a wry chuckle. "Trust me, that's an understatement. Now show me what's so bad you had to drag me out here."
Together, they stepped inside, the mystery of the night just beginning to unfold.
As Detective Sarah Holt and Detective Ronan Mercer stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Sarah began to lay out the bare facts. "We got the call about an hour ago. There's one victim so far. That's all I can confirm until you see it yourself."
"Mm-hmm," Ronan murmured, but his attention was elsewhere. He was scanning the layout: which floors had lights on, how many lockers lined the corridors, the flickering bulbs that cast eerie shadows. He was mapping out the scene in his own way.
Sarah noticed and stopped walking, turning to face him. "Are you even listening to me?" she asked, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.
Ronan glanced at her with a lazy smile. "Why wouldn't I be listening? Of course I'm listening."
"Really?" Sarah folded her arms. "Then what was the last thing I said?"
He raised an eyebrow. "The last thing you said is the last thing you said." His tone was teasing, and Sarah let out an exasperated sigh.
"Look," Ronan added more seriously, "I'll see what I need to see. You brought me in, which means this isn't just a run-of-the-mill case. So let's not worry about who's listening and just get to the bottom of it."
Sarah shook her head but couldn't hide a small grin. "Fine. Just try to keep up."
And with that, they continued down the hallway, the mystery waiting for them just around the corner.
Sarah just shook her head and led him to the music room. Inside, the forensic team was busy documenting the scene. Instruments were scattered, blood stained the walls and ceiling, and in the center of it all lay the headless body of a young girl.
Ronan took in every detail, mentally mapping the room in his mind. Then, with a sharp inhale, he called out to Sarah, who was standing just outside. "Sarah! Can you get these forensic guys out of here for a minute?"
"What?" Sarah called back, a little baffled.
"I need them out so I can get a full picture of what happened. Just clear the room," Ronan insisted.
Sarah rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "All right, everyone, give us a moment," she said, motioning for the forensic team to step out. They exchanged annoyed glances but eventually filed out of the room, leaving Ronan and Sarah alone.
With the forensic team gone, Ronan turned his attention to Sarah, who was still standing in the doorway. He took a few steps toward her, closing the distance with a sly smirk. Sarah, puzzled, instinctively stepped back into the corridor, almost tripping over the threshold.
Ronan gave her a quick wink. "You too, Sarah," he said with a teasing tone, and then gently but firmly closed the door on her, leaving her on the other side.
Alone in the music room, Ronan's smirk deepened. He crossed his arms and let his gaze travel over the gruesome scene once more. But this time, it wasn't just professional curiosity in his eyes, there was a spark of something darker. The chaos, the blood, the sheer brutality of the scene, it all seemed to awaken something inside him.
Unlike most officers who might have felt horror or pity, Ronan felt a strange thrill. This was not just another case; this was a puzzle that excited him, a scene that stirred something almost gleeful in his mind.
And in that moment, it was clear that for Ronan Mercer, this was more than just police work. It was a dark and twisted game he was more than ready to play.