Chapter 1 - Symbols

STARING directly at the dismembered corpse a few meters away from where she stood, Detective Paige Morsen bent her back to take a closer look, not letting the intolerable stench and the grim images projecting ahead of her bother the concentration she needed to get her initial thoughts together.   

She firmly believed that to be able to unlock the mysteries surrounding a murder case, she must collect the prime keys, at first. And the subject definitely holds it all. 

Yet, as much as she try to analyze and get a sense of what she was seeing, she couldn't wracked her brain around logical answers to contradict the bizarre details from the scene itself. The victim was a woman; her poor body had been cut into sundry parts. Her pair of arms and legs were severely detached, the cut was deep and precise. Some open wounds blotted on her chest and lower stomach, leaving it like a mouthful bite from a sick animal. 

The trauma on her face tells a different story, though. 

It was almost like she had been torn by a grizzly bear, the aggression she received and the nature of the harm that was inflicted weren't near usual in a murder crime. Paige had never seen such a high level of damage to a victim. Her previous years on the Homicide Unit had shaped her to believe that every crime relates to one another. No matter how heavy the complication is and how baffling the set-up could be, in terms of the severity and affliction, they all have that mark and signature from the perpetrator itself. 

But this one, this particular one couldn't seem to give off that piece of information. The gore ways that the body had been through were almost enough for Paige to easily draw out her conclusions about the intention behind it. What she couldn't comprehend was the single thing that seems very odd to be found in this circumstance. 

It was the immaculate neatness of the body. 

Based on its violent nature, she expected that everything around it would be rough and drastic. How could someone clean a victim at first then cut off her body into pieces after? It's too ironic. No dirt and drips of blood could be spotted on the victim's clothes, her pallor skin was glossy, her hair was stretched into a bun and even her shoes were shined off well.   

  

Is the killer obsessive in detail? Or it's just all part of the work? 

"That's not a fucking statue you could prey your eyes on all day, Morsen. For heaven's sake, maintain your distance!" she heard a man's growl at her side which snapped her back to reality.

Standing akimbo to her left side, Gabriel Loftgant tapped his feet on the ground, imposing an impatient stance, waiting for an answer to come. The supervisor was a big man with a protruding belly and thick brown hair that did nothing but to sharpen his overall look. His built wasn't less intimidating and the features on his face struck as a normal look of a fifty-year-old man. 

The voice was overly familiar to Paige, she didn't bother to disobey or even mutter a comment on what she just heard. She knew too well how the mind of her supervisor works. Even a simple remark would go beyond his favor. Pissing him off would be the last thing she wanted to do today. 

After all, at times like this, she wouldn't let anything strain her focus and disturb her work ethic. 

As she straightened her back, the lethal stare of Loftgant ripped through her. She stepped back and nodded at him as part of her semblance of respect. 

"Have you forgotten that this is a crime scene? If we didn't dust off the prints before you arrived, you'd be in big trouble, Morsen," Loftgant reprimanded, his steely eyes following her movements as she distance herself.

She hung her head low to look if she stepped into something essential to the scene. Only her outlined footprint was evident on the ground. She didn't see the point to call that a liability. 

"I beg to differ, Sir. But I think—"

"I don't care what you think," he hissed, cutting her off. "You've breached a prohibited distance, deal with it. I'm not asking for your opinion." 

Heaving a deep sigh, Paige bit her tongue to refrain from her comment to spell out from her mouth. Debating is the ultimate thing she had learned not to do at anyone under his team. She's a mind speaker, yes, and she always loved voicing out her thoughts. But during her stay on the police force packed with chauvinistic men, she realized that her oral skill is just a bane at forming a relationship with them—not that she needed any companions. She just wanted a healthy work environment where she can grow naturally. 

"Goodman!" Loftgant blurted out suddenly, calling a name that made Paige roll her eyes and scoffed a bit. Of course, her everyday work won't be completed without having the disrespectful supervisor and her golden girl tailing up her ass. 

From the wretched cabin surrounded by cops and a forensics team, a young pleasable woman with dark wavy hair came out, running towards where the voice came from. Ivanna Goodman, the sweet-looking twenty-five-year-old female detective hurried beside Gabriel Loftgant like a puppy that was called by her master. She was smiling widely and almost ready to submit wholeheartedly to the supervisor, a trait that no longer surprised Paige. 

She's the narcissistic sweetheart of the Homicide Unit and the earnest lapdog of Loftgant. Paige had never liked her as a co-worker. She was one of those people who didn't know the difference between the real work as a detective and the perks it brought. The poor ignorant girl has more visions of pleasing the higher-ups rather than solving a case on her own. 

Paige hated that. If only she can remove excess baggage like her, she'd do it the first time Ivana stepped in the team. Not only because she did nothing but flaunt her legs and tease the men, she had never shown any courtesy to Paige as a co-worker and even as a senior. 

"Fill Detective Morsen on what she should know. I'm going back to the station to brief the Chief," Loftgant said before he turned to Paige. "Make sure you'd be done in an hour; I want you back on the station immediately. I don't want to cover up your ass for your fecklessness. And don't ever forget to clean this mess before you leave. You hear me, Morsen?"

Paige's jaw clenched and nodded subtly without spoiling the umbrage she just felt. This wasn't a new scenario, nevertheless. She didn't even need to glance at Ivana who smirked after Loftgant just made those coarse instructions. She even looked proud that Paige was, once again, insulted at her presence. 

After Loftgant went out of the picture, Paige filled her lungs with the fresh morning breeze, hoping that she could get any refreshment from the unpleasant conversation with the supervisor. She turned to the body and study her again. As she prolong her stare, Ivana's presence went near and she almost forgot about her existence.   

"You have your way pissing Loftgant," Ivana said and chuckled. "I won't be surprised if one of these days, you'd be cleaning your desk off."

Paige ignored her and decided to examine the surroundings instead. She recalled the report that the victim was found at midnight in this deepest part of the forest park. Even the whole forest has now been lit up by the dancing rays of the sun, Paige could still feel the chills of finding a lone leg here.

"Do we have any identification on the victim?" she asked, intentionally changing the subject to a more imperative matter, transferring her attention to the body.  

Ivana let out a scoff. She fished out her small notebook from her pants and like a memorized statement, she recited the information about the victim. 

"Her name's Miranda Gail, a math instructor from Lincon University. Still have no information about her family but Bailey is already running on it. Went missing one week ago based on the reports. Her picture was posted days after she didn't show up at class," Ivana said, closing up her notebook. "Fresco and his team are still working on the forensics so I can't give you anything other than the fact that she was beaten up pretty badly. Her face is the evidence, as you can see."

Of all the things she had said, that's the only statement Paige could agree upon. The damage on the body was already sickening to Paige but the blow on her face is on a different level. It was utterly unrecognizable and almost blank, for it was smashed with such force and powerful object. Could be a hammer. Her eyes had been splattered and the bones had been crushed. 

There's a hint of extreme emotion in there. Probably smashed her before she was torn. 

That only added to her growing inquisitiveness. She thought that everything seems in disarray. The body was cleaned and yet the outrage it had endured was radically inhuman. 

She wasn't sexually abused, Paige could be certain in that. No bruising near the private area could indicate that she had to go through that phase. If it wasn't circling any sexual connotation, Paige thought that they are not dealing with a sicko rapist. A calculated and elusive killer could be a potential profile. 

"How did you identify her?" 

"Her ID was found on the left side pocket of her skirt. Seems it was intentionally placed there," Ivana said, pointing to the lower part of the body. "Aside from it, her uniform and nametag suggested that her job and what university she's in. Geez, do I really have to spoonfeed you on everything?"

"And the witnesses?" Paige squinted her eyes when on the side part where the leg was cut, something minuscule caught her attention. 

Getting more and more impatient, Ivanna grunted, rolled her eyes, and flipped her notebook once again. "At the cabin. Ramirez is on the floor, interviewing the kids. They admitted that they went here to smoke pot and do what teenagers do. It was the girl who found the body, well, not totally the whole body. Said she heard something while waiting for her boyfriend to return. Shuffling, etcetera, etcetera. She checked it out and there, she stumbled across that leg. They called the police and voila, we have a murder case on our hands—Jesus, Paige, what on earth are you up to?" Ivana stopped in mid-sentence when she spotted Paige already kneeling on the ground, up close to the deceased. 

Already absorbed by the thing she saw, Paige ignored Ivana and put her gloves on. She wasn't sure what it was but it looks like figures of some sort. She flipped the leg on its other side and there it was, carved in an italicized form, a series of numbers mixed in letters flaunted on her sight. 

P1618-P

The manner of writing wasn't decent but it was fairly understandable. Paige felt a sudden rise of excitement through her veins. She took out her cellphone and captured it. She zoomed it in and the gibberish became more readable to her. 

Bingo. 

"This is why people can't stand you, Morsen. You're a creep—"

"Goodman," she called out, saving the lectures from Ivana. Her heart continued to beat with anticipation as she reads it. "Did Fresco say anything about numbers?" 

"Numbers? What numbers?" Ivana shuffled at her side and pored over her shoulder to see what she meant. "That looks pretty damn phony. It's just numbers, Morsen. You really think it has a connection with this?" Ivana shook her head with disappointment and slammed her notebook. "Damn, you're always full of nonsense." Already apathetic of what Paige had figured out, Ivana left her alone and went back inside the cabin. 

Nonsense as it may seem, Paige couldn't shake off the idea that it might be essential to this. Whether or not this is the mark she's been looking for, Paige couldn't disregard it so easily. Especially that her gut told her that this isn't just a normal murder case.