Another murder

Ethan Graves leaned back in his chair, staring at the wall of his office. It was lined with photos, newspaper clippings, and case files—a chaotic collage that represented his life's work. He was a man obsessed, driven by a need to solve the unsolvable, to catch the uncatchable. His latest case was no different—a series of murders, each more brutal than the last, with no apparent connection between the victims. But Ethan knew better. There was always a connection, even if it wasn't immediately obvious.

He rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion. His instincts told him he was close, that the killer was within reach. He just needed to find the missing piece of the puzzle. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it reluctantly. It was his mother, probably calling to ask why he hadn't shown up for dinner last night. He let it go to voicemail, pushing thoughts of familial obligations out of his mind.

Ethan was about to dive back into his files when the door to his office swung open with a sharp creak. Max Harper, his right-hand man, burst in, his face pale and eyes wide. The usually composed detective looked rattled, which immediately put Ethan on high alert.

"Ethan, you need to see this," Max said, his voice tense.

"What is it?" Ethan asked, already feeling the adrenaline begin to pulse through his veins.

"There's been another murder," Max replied, stepping aside to allow Ethan to see the file he was holding. "This one happened at the Gulf Continental Hotel."

Ethan's eyes narrowed as he took the file, flipping it open with practiced efficiency. He scanned the details quickly, his sharp mind absorbing the information in seconds. The victim was a young man in his late twenties, a businessman who had been in town for a conference. His body had been found mutilated in his hotel room—throat slashed, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, and strange symbols carved into his chest.

"What's the connection?" Ethan asked, his voice calm despite the rising tension in the room.

"His name," Max said, pointing to the page Ethan had just skimmed past. "It's the same as one of the names you mentioned in your investigation. The guy was staying at the hotel where another one of our victims stayed before his death."

Ethan's interest piqued, his mind racing. He didn't believe in coincidences, and this was too close to one for his liking.

"Let's go," Ethan said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. Max followed closely behind, already contacting the crime scene team to let them know they were on their way.

The Gulf Continental Hotel was a grandiose building, its elegant facade betraying none of the horrors that had taken place inside. As Ethan and Max arrived, they were met with the usual throng of police officers, crime scene investigators, and hotel staff who hovered anxiously around the lobby. The hotel manager, a nervous-looking man in his fifties, approached them immediately.

"Detective Graves, thank you for coming," the manager said, his voice trembling slightly. "I can't believe something like this could happen here again…"

"Where's the room?" Ethan asked, cutting through the man's nervous babbling.

The manager swallowed hard and gestured for them to follow him. They took the elevator up to the 14th floor, the air growing thicker with tension as they ascended. The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt unnatural, almost oppressive.

"This is it," the manager said, stopping in front of a door marked 1408. The door was ajar, with a police officer standing guard outside.

Ethan took a deep breath before pushing the door open fully. The sight that greeted him was not a normal one, it was a gruesome one.

The suite was immaculate, every piece of furniture perfectly in place, every surface spotless. It was as if no one had ever stayed there, let alone died in such a horrific manner. But the body on the bed told a different story.

Ethan approached slowly, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of a struggle, any trace of the killer. There was nothing—no overturned furniture, no broken glass, not even a wrinkle in the carpet. The victim lay on the bed, his body arranged as if he were simply sleeping, but the truth was far more sinister.

The man's face was a mess of jagged cuts, his features unrecognizable beneath the layers of brutality. His chest was a canvas of violence, deep gashes crisscrossing his torso in a pattern that was too deliberate to be random ones. Ethan could see the precision in the cuts, the way they were placed with almost surgical care. But there was no blood—none on the sheets, none on the floor. It was as if the killer had drained the life out of him without leaving a trace.

Max stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing. This isn't just a killing—it's a statement."

Ethan nodded, his mind working through the possibilities. The killer had taken their time, had ensured that the room was left spotless. This wasn't about the victim; it was about control, about sending a message. But what was the message? And why had the killer chosen this particular hotel, this particular room?

He turned his attention to the rest of the suite, his eyes narrowing as he noticed something out of place. On the dresser, next to a neatly folded towel, was a single white lily. It was fresh, its petals unblemished, as if it had just been placed there. Ethan felt a shiver run through him. The lily wasn't just a flower—it was a symbol. Of what, he wasn't sure yet, but it felt important.

There were no signs of a struggle, no indication that the victim had fought back. It was as if he had been taken completely by surprise.

"What do we know about the victim?" Ethan asked, turning to Max.

"His name is Gregory Hanes," Max replied, consulting his notes. "He was in town for a business conference—stayed at this hotel for two nights. He was supposed to check out tomorrow morning."

"Did he have any connections to the other victims?" Ethan pressed.

"Not that we've found so far," Max said. "But I'm sure if we dig deeper, we'll find something."

Ethan stared at the body, the symbols etched into the man's skin glaring up at him like a taunt. The killer was daring them to find him, to catch him before he struck again. It was a challenge Ethan couldn't ignore.

"We need to find out everything we can about this guy," Ethan said, his voice firm. "I want to know who he was meeting with, what his schedule was, and who knew he was staying here."

Max nodded, already making notes. "I'll get on it."