2:38 pm
Greg Lestrade pulled up to the museum in his cruiser, shutting the car off and stepping out. He scanned the crowd, looking for Anderson. He spotted him and headed over.
"What do we have?" he asked once he got within earshot. Anderson grimaced before answering.
"This is one of the most gruesome cases I have ever seen, in my entire career. The body seemed to be drained of blood, but whatever killed our victim decided to have a bit of fun with the body. You'll see what I'm talking about when were inside." With another grimace and a small shiver, Anderson led the way inside. Really, a scene that makes Anderson shudder? This must be one horrible scene. Lestrade was sure Anderson could handle the average dead body. Is this case was bothering him, it must be pretty horrible.
As they got closer to the crime scene, Lestrade's sense of smell was assaulted by the haughty stench of rotting flesh, and the bitter tang of sulfur. It almost made him gag. When they finally arrived at the scene, Lestrade had to quickly turn around to avoid throwing up on the spot.
Anderson shuddered again. Lestrade got his stomach under control and turned around, taking a couple shaky steps toward the body. The poor guy's body was horribly mutilated; even the bloody head was missing. "Dear Lord. What the bloody hell could have done something like this? The bloody thing is even missing its head."
"I know. But the worst thing is, if you look at the edges of the wound. We haven't been able to determine a murder weapon yet; the body is too badly torn apart." The body in question had its front completely torn open, and the whole cavity of the torso was empty, yet there were no entrails anywhere in the crime scene. Anderson's team had scoured every inch of the room, not even finding a blood trail depicting that the entrails were moved to another room. The bones had been completely removed from the body, all 206 of them, and placed on the floor to recreate a perfect human skeletal outline. The only thing missing was the victim's head.
The odd part of the crime scene was that there was no blood. The bones looked like they had been boiled, they were completely white, and not at stain on them to tell that they had been in a human body. The open torso looked like someone had taken a suction tube and syphoned all the fluids out. The skin was in fact starting to shrivel and crack, because it was so dry.
Yet the oddest part was that there were no fingerprints on any doors, no footprints in the dust. The security tapes were all a bunch of hacked, scrambled mess. There was absolutely no way in telling who was in here, and who had killed the security guard.
Anderson sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you need to call in the freak."
Lestrade could only readily agree.
