The blue light from the television flickered, playing across the walls of the dimly lit room. It cast the shadows of its images across the wall, like demons running through a playground, taunting the darkness.
Red words flashed in the corner of the screen, marking that the news had been muted.

The news casters continued on with the top local story ignoring the fact that they had been silenced, their faces were contorted in a forced look of mock sadness, pretending to be empathetic towards their viewers. Their eyes emotionlessly were fixed towards their audience, while their lips moved soundlessly. One even attempted a smile, at what he thought was amusing.

Meanwhile, Detective Spade slumped over her coffee table. Or what was presumably so.

Papers littered any surface that could hold such a burden, folders containing reports of the investigation were piled so precariously that it was a wonder they didn't fall to the ground at even the slightest vibration.

However, this disarray (though upon first glance it may be slightly shocking) was nothing compared to the gruesome photos that were pinned upon a mottled cork board on the wall.

They showed humans, though some were so brutally disfigured that 'human' would be the last label you would place upon their heads, all dead… all horribly tortured… in a way only the jig saw killer could only know how. These photos, were the reason that Detective Spade could no longer sleep. They were the reason she carried her gun with her everywhere, even to the bathroom. You can never know who, or what could be lurking in the shadows.

A chill surged through the room making the hairs on Detective Spade's arm stand on end. Rubbing her arms she quickly glanced up at the television, and upon seeing something that intrigued her, she quickly pressed the mute button.

"The Jig Saw Killer has struck once again." A voice droned, filling the silent room with the chilling news. Spade sighed and slumped back into the cushions of her couch.

Why did the media learn about everything when even she, the leading investigator on this case hadn't? As if in answer to her wandering thoughts, her cellphone's ring pierced through the reporter's emotionless drawl. Muting the television once again, she flipped her phone open, trying to answer with the calmest voice that she could muster. Spade knew that it would be bad news. It always was.

Why couldn't the call about the five year old girl who had gone missing, have been news that she was found… or found alive that is. Not raped and thrown into a ditch, for her to lie there until the last life left her. She was so young, and helpless.

"Spade here" she broke her thoughts off, ignoring the mental picture of the little girl lying there covered in mud with her round blue eyes glazed over in a frozen look of confusion and sadness.

"Uh, hey Spade." It was Nick, the scrawny little Asian kid who had been hired to the workforce when one of theirs had been killed. She didn't care for him much, Nick was too twitchy, and couldn't hold his stomach in.

"Good news Nick?" she asked casually, though she knew it wouldn't be.

"Heh," he tried to muster a chuckle, but it came out fake and strained, "No… the same. He's struck again, Spade. There one DB's accounted for, they're still checking the rest of the abandoned warehouse for more."

Spade was silent for a second. Jigsaw always had a lesson for his victims, what sick sort of game was he playing this time?

"Hey… you there?" Nick broke her thoughts like a needle piercing the thin skin of a balloon.

Spade cleared her throat, "Uh, yeah. I'll be right over." She flipped her phone closed and sat slouched over the floor staring at it. Why did it bring such news? Why did he have to strike again? Why couldn't he just be done with?

In an act of sudden rage she threw the cell phone at the wall. With a loud crack, it broke into pieces and fell in a jumble on a pile of case files.

She breathed in deeply, and got to her feet, pulling on her black leather jacket. The nights were getting longer, colder, and more depressing with the onslaught of the coming winter.

The cell phone's limp remains rang with the desperation of a dying animal.

Spade was suddenly filled with a hatred that could not be justified.

Why wouldn't it just stop? All of it. Couldn't the murders just stop and leave her jobless? Maybe being in the poor house would be better then this shell of a life that she was living.

It was too late to turn back, though. She had seen too much. Learned of the things that go bump in the night. No, she could never turn back and live a normal life.

Spade contemplated answering the phone, to end the incessant chirping that was echoing through the silence of the room. Taking a step towards it, Spade quickly thought better of hearing the grim news that it would most definitely bring to her attention. She grabbed her car keys off of the littered counter, pulled upon the door and with indignation yelled, "Shut the fuck up."

She slammed the door behind her, leaving the phone to cry out its woes to the darkness.

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Slamming her car's door shut, Spade stepped out into the grim darkness, pulling latex gloves over her shaking hands.

Nick approached, "Interesting location, eh?" he strained a laugh, it came out more like a weezing cough.

Spade nodded slowly, she remembered this case well. It was hard to get enough evidence to bust the motel manager for the many missing people that had disappeared after staying more then three days at his motel. Three days was more then enough to learn everything the motel owner needed to know to commit his murders. When Spade had got enough evidence for a warrant what they found in the basement was not a pretty sight. People of all different genders, races, ages… all rotting down there together. They might never have even seen each other in life, but they were all brought together by a common factor: a man with a very sick mind. Their eyes were lifeless, always open. Their mouths open, screaming until the last breath left them.

In some ways the motel manager was like Jigsaw, methodical, well thought out. But one major difference was clear… the manager killed his own victims, Jigsaw made them kill themselves.

Spade shuddered as a breeze whipped around the desolate parking lot, bringing her back to reality.

"What ever happened to the manager?" Spade inquired, looking in Nick's face as they walked in the door of the dusty motel.

"Uh, I think you'd better come with me." He led her down the familiar stairs, rotting flesh drifted into Spade's nostrils. Not quite as strong as last time… but still there.

"He was released from jail early, they didn't make him finish his life sentence on the accord of 'good behavior'…"

"-But then, how d'you know that Jigsaw committed this murder," hope rose in her voice, "Maybe it was the manager again… returning to his comfort zone?"

Nick sighed, "Have a look for yourself."

The door at the bottom had been knocked off its hinges, it had obviously been reinforced, and the lock had been changed, it was the newest thing in this dump of a place.

The first thing Spade noticed upon entering the room was concrete… three feet of it… all hardened. The next was a table, upon which a someone could have stood to be above it all.

After she took in the amazing sight that lay before her, Spade noticed the body cowering in the corner. He was stuck in the cement, almost all of his body was covered in it. One hand was stuck out as if trying to search for something, the other was holding a tape recorder.

His face was contorted in a look of extreme pain. There were trails down his face where tears had obviously cascaded down his cheeks, erasing the dust from the cement.

Spade bent down, looking at his arm where a familiar puzzle piece was cut out of the flesh of his arm. "Yeah, it's Jigsaw all right. The calling cards are all here." It was then that she saw his face… It was the hotel manager, who she had worked so hard to get behind bars. No wonder he couldn't have committed this murder. He was the victim this time. At least it was one less criminal she had to worry about wandering the streets.

Spade wrenched the tape recorder out of his hard grip.

"He was hanging onto that thing for dear life… he must've played it over and over as he slowly died of starvation." Spade turned to Nick, "shall we see what Jigsaw has to say this time?" He slowly nodded, almost not wanting to hear the voice that they both had got to know so well over the past few months. At Nick's signal, spade pushed down the play button, and all fell silent except for the static at the beginning of the tape.

"Hello Pedro. First off, I'd like to thank you. Without your 'good behavior' you wouldn't be here today. You don't know me, but I know you. Very well. I followed your story, through the papers, and the news. You never killed those people, did you? But you led such an empty shell of a life, you confessed to the murders and let the real culprit run free. Free to kill at least five other people. You had even contemplated killing yourself a few times, but never had the guts to do that. Going to jail seemed the only way out, and while you were at it, you could be a hero to your son who always looked at you with such distaste. Is that why you took the fall for him, so you could be a hero? Pedro, your total disregard for life left your wife with no income to speak of, she blew off her head. And your son was free to go off to a different state, and kill even more people. Any dad would be proud.

I bet you're wondering where you are.

Well, Pedro. You're in the basement where so many other people perished. Will it become your grave too?

Only you can determine that.

What you're standing on is a platform. There is three feet of concrete all around you. Don't worry, a key unlocks the door at the other end. The problem is that the key is hidden in the concrete. I'd get going if I were you.

Oh, and I can't forget to mention that there are nails sticking up all around the bottom of the concrete.

Have fun, and don't forget that time is ticking. That concrete will dry, and with it, all of your hopes for getting out of here.

Bottoms up."

The tape ran out, and with a sickening silence the room was left with nothing but static.

Spade sat there speechless at the news that Jigsaw had brought. As if to break the silence, her cellphone rang, and Spade instinctively went to answer it.

Pausing for a second, she distinctively remembered throwing it into the wall of her apartment and leaving it there. Curiosity compelled her, and she answered in a shaky voice, "Hello?"

A very familiar voice answered on the other end, "Hello Detective Spade. You're next."

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