A Ghost from the Past

The precinct buzzed with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the clatter of keyboards, a symphony of controlled chaos that usually settled my nerves. Tonight, though, it felt like static crackling under my skin. Captain Mulligan had called me into his office, his face etched with a weariness that mirrored my own. He didn’t mince words. “Ramirez, another one. Found him this morning, out near Blackwood Creek. Same MO. Looks like our guy’s picking up speed.”

I nodded, the familiar knot of dread tightening in my gut. Blackwood Creek. Miles of tangled woods, perfect for a hunter. Perfect for a killer who knew the woods. Perfect for someone who wanted to disappear. “Anything new, Captain?”

Mulligan sighed, running a hand over his thinning hair. “Same as the others. Clean. Efficient. Almost… respectful, if you can call it that. No forced entry, no signs of struggle. Just… gone. Like he was invited in.” He pushed a file across his desk. “Forensics is on their way. I want you and the rook on it.”