Is This Just The Beginning?

Police sirens blared loudly in the area, creating a disturbance. Are you interested in finding out why? Maybe you're genuinely curious. Well, it's not something you'd particularly want to know. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. Driving through the neighborhood where the sirens were coming from, I tried to organize my thoughts.

I recently got deployed in an assignment as a detective in the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD). What's my name? I am Vivian Claymore. Standing at 5'6" tall with dark hair and a heart-shaped face, wearing a coat that reached until my knees. I can't really say that I'm good-looking. Let your imagination picture my appearance as you wish. This is where my story begins.

As my supervisor warned, we were dealing with a cunning and elusive criminal, like a rogue wolf leading us on a futile chase. The situation had worsened, leaving us frustrated and uncertain. This case affected more people than we expected. To make matters worse, the authorities hadn't caught the murderer yet. It was disappointing, to say the least.

The killer was cleverer than we initially thought, and the previous investigators assigned to the case became caught up in their tactics. It's not hard to guess what happened to those detectives. They were either fired or taken off the investigation. But I didn't plan on following in their footsteps.

It became clear that this was no ordinary serial killer. They had a peculiar method of targeting victims alphabetically, which added complexity to the case. It is undoubtedly the most difficult challenge I will face as a detective. There was a lack of reliable information, with only a few names or leads to go on. There were no tracks to follow or fingerprints to guide us. It seemed like the killer had planned everything perfectly to confuse us at every turn. The urgency within the department grew as we desperately searched for a breakthrough. Believe it or not, we are almost running out of clues. Pathetic, right?

We managed to identify the victims, determine the cause of their deaths, and locate where the crimes occurred. But frustratingly, we had no leads on the perpetrator. These cases had already gained global attention, and we didn't want to prolong the investigation any further.

I abruptly turned my car and headed towards the crime scene, the screeching tires breaking the silence. Memories of past cases flooded my mind, reminding me of the unresolved connections between the victims. They had never established a clear link. Would you like me to fill you in on what we've discovered so far? I can sense your curiosity.

Intriguingly enough, the killer displays a calling card with a cryptic message "A-Z." It's as if they're personifying their calculated approach by targeting victims alphabetically. The reasons behind these chilling murders remain unknown, leaving us puzzled.

The detailed and peculiar manner in which the killer selects and disposes of their victims is fascinating. It's not a simple act with a knife; they go to great lengths, using unique and elaborate methods. This raises the question: Why go through all this trouble? The motive behind these carefully planned choices remains a mystery, adding complexity to the case as I search for answers.

I realized we weren't dealing with any random killer but a mass murderer. Entering the building, I found myself surrounded by police officers and photographers. The yellow tape marked the crime scene, a grim reminder of the tragedy unfolding here.

"Evening, detective," a silvery but familiar voice called out. Heh, I knew he'd be here. I turned to my left, and there I found Harper Ortiz, my apprentice, and close friend, who had been with me from my early days as a detective. He is 5'9" and wearing the same coat I am wearing; of course, protocol called for it. He fixed his round glasses, strutting over to me confidently.

"Sorry for my late arrival. Have you finished looking for the police reports I asked you for?" I told him, my coat swishing as we trekked further into the lab, the dim lights flickering as our footsteps echoed. We were walking into the heart of the incident, and my heart pounded quickly.

Harper nodded, taking envelopes out of the inside of his coat, and I took them gratefully, smiling at him. I could definitely count on him at times like this. He cleared his throat, "Anyways, as I was saying, the victim's name is Diego Martinez, a scientist working here at Salazar Research Laboratory, which focuses on animal mutations," Harper informed me, and I raised my eyebrow curiously. Why would the killer target a scientist?

"What caused his death?" I asked urgently, anticipating another horrifying method. Really, what is it this time? I turned towards him, my curiosity reaching its peak while I waited for him to brief me on the details.

"You won't believe it when I tell you," Harper replied mysteriously. With those words hanging in the air, he opened the door to the crime scene, revealing a sight that left me speechless.

Before me was a scene more gruesome than anything encountered in this case so far.