David Mills was awoken at 3:00 the next morning, after less than three hours of sleep, when his phone rang. He was still groggy, after spending most of his night at Jane Doe's apartment- John Doe's former apartment, going through her things- he had every right to be tired. After a few hours of searching, he finally had taken Chriseyda's advice and gone home to get some sleep. They had found nothing, and it had only succeeded in bringing back a lot of bad memories.
He rolled over, still not fully awake, and answered the phone- hoping that it was Chriseyda calling to tell him they found something substantial.
It wasn't Chriseyda.
"Good morning Detective," came a scratchy, synthesized voice. David was wide-awake in seconds. "I've left you yet another gift. You'll find him if you go back to the life you loved." Just as soon as the call had begun it was done. He jumped out of bed and dressed quickly.
On his drive to the station he called Chriseyda. She answered, sounding as tired as he felt, on the third ring. "Detective Jackson."
"Jackson," he said abruptly. "If you're at the station, get outside now, I'll be there in three minutes. If you're home, get to the station now!"
"Okay," said Chriseyda, but he had already hung up. She jumped out of her seat, suddenly wide awake, and ran outside the station. He pulled up in less than three minutes, and she jumped into the passenger's seat. "What's wrong? Did they find another victim?"
"I got a call this morning," said David. "She said I'd find the next victim if I went back to the life I once loved. That means I have to go back to the house I lived in with my wife." After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke his mind. "Why were you at the station so early?"
"I couldn't sleep," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I was looking over everything, trying to find something that we could possibly use, but there's nothing new. I fell asleep about half way through my search. I guess I'm just being optimistic."
"How long have you been a Detective?" asked David.
"Two years," she said looking over at him. "Why?"
"That's the reason for the hopefully, naïve, optimism," said David coolly. "Once you've been on the job for at least five years, you realize optimism is a luxury, at best. You'll learn."
Chriseyda just sighed at the iciness in his voice and nodded. They finished the trip in silence.
David was out of the car as soon as he had turned it off. He ran toward the apartment building with Chriseyda right on his heels. He bounded up three flights of stairs and knocked on the door of apartment number 19. There was no answer, so he kicked in the door.
There was nothing out of place in the living room and dining room. David took a deep, shaky breath as he walked down the short hallway to the bedroom, pulling out his gun as he went. He nudged the door open and pointed the gun around the room. There was a body hanging from the center of the room, with a chair tipped over below him and blood was dripping from his toes. The bed was soaked in blood and the word 'Pride' was written on the wall.
"We've got something," he yelled down the hall to Chriseyda. He walked in, phone in hand as he rang the coroner and police station. "Send a bus; we've got a male DB. Send the coroner immediately."
Chriseyda sucked in a breath as she walked in and surveyed the scene before her. "Pride," she breathed.
"Yeah," said David walking over to the bed. "This woman has a thing for making guys cut off their penises."
"Maybe a hatred of all males?" suggested Chriseyda. "Maybe abused by a male relative as a child."
"Possibly," said David. "Or just a fetish."
Chriseyda shrugged slightly as she looked around and took pictures of the scene.
"You realize what she did to this guy?" asked David.
"If I remember correctly from the old files," said Chriseyda, taking out her camera and taking pictures of the scene. "The initial 'attack' is some sort of disfigurement to the vic. Then, gluing a phone to the one hand and also gives the victim a form of suicide- in this case hanging. The thing she is trying to say is call and save your life- but be without a penis- or kick the chair out from under you and end the misery."
"Very good," said David. "I'm sure that is what she is doing. What is odd is she practically duplicated the scene. Only she chose a man instead of a woman and a different form of suicide."
"What else could she do?" asked Chriseyda. "It's the best way to get the point across."
"Maybe," said David. "That means she might start duplicating the other two sins."
"Wrath and envy," breathed Chriseyda. She was getting frustrated; she didn't like being outsmarted by the bad-guy. "She's going to kill her last two victims and disappear, isn't she?"
"It's starting to look that way," said David.
"What do we do?" she asked. "We can't just sit here and do nothing."
"We'll see if the coroner can get anything off the body," said David. "Until then, we have to wait."
"I've got nothing new off the body," said the coroner looking up at the Detectives. "No hair, no prints, there was nothing on the body. And he died of strangulation- as if it wasn't obvious. However, he was pretty lethargic after she cut his penis off, so I almost think he didn't have the strength to make the call to save his life. That's just a guess, take it with a grain of salt."
"Thanks Doc," said David, pulling out the old case files and handing them to the coroner. "If you find anything out of place compared to last year's murders, let me know."
"Will do," said the coroner. "I'll ask the former coroner to come here for the rest of the day and help. He'll be able to tell if there's anything that I've over looked."
David nodded and left the morgue without another word. He knew Chriseyda was right behind him, but he didn't want to say anything to her.
"I think I need to take a walk and clear my mind," David told Chriseyda before heading for the door. The cool air hit him square in the face, ruffling his hair backwards and making him wish he had grabbed his coat on the way out. He didn't feel like going back to the office so he decided to rough it and walk anyway.
David couldn't remember feeling so terrible since John Doe told him his wife was pregnant. He had to sort out his thoughts before he could talk to anyone about the case. He went outside and walked around the block three times, and then walked across the street to get a good cup of coffee.
Walking back to the station with the cup of coffee in his hand, an idea suddenly hit him. He ran the rest of the way and called the superior still at the apartment. He answered on the second ring.
"Is there a dark room?" David asked, not introducing himself.
"A dark room?" the supervisor sounded confused for a second and then he understood. "Yes Detective," he said, still a bit of puzzlement in his voice. "We just found it an hour ago. We haven't processed it fully yet. There's a lot of pictures in there, both developed and undeveloped."
"Bring all of the pictures to the station once you've logged them all in," David commanded more than requested. "Have them examined closely, and tell the examiners to look for anything and everything that seems out of place, even if it is the minutest detail."
"Yes sir, we'll get right on it," the supervisor said crisply. Just before hanging up, David could hear him snapping orders to his officer that were working the dark room.