Act 1.1 Search for the Serial Killer

Amber settled into a comfortable sofa and slowly lit a cigarette. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes and disheveled hair clearly showed signs of long, sleepless nights and unrelenting stress. Her gaze was fixed on the board, covered with photographs and notes pinned with various pieces of information.

"The Murder of Sarah Parker" read the large heading. Below it, the note stated: "The victim was killed by a slashed throat with a sharp object, presumably a knife. The murder occurred on May 3, 2008." A photograph of a young woman, her lifeless body lying in the middle of a dirty alley, was pinned beside the note.

Amber knew this girl too well. Sarah had been kind and friendly, living on the first floor of their building. She loved tending to the flowers that grew in the flower bed outside the entrance. Her death had been sudden and brutal. Amber couldn't understand why Sarah had gone to that cursed alley. It was a remote place, where there was nothing, let alone anything good. Why had she been there? It remained a mystery.

"The Murder of Tom Adams" was the next note on the board. "The victim was beaten with a hammer, suffered severe cranial trauma, and his face was disfigured. May 10, 2008." The photograph of the victim clearly showed what was left of his head, and the sight was so horrifying that Amber turned away every time she glanced at the picture.

She had known Tom, too. In their small town, where the population barely reached a thousand, everyone knew each other. Tom owned a car repair shop where he was found dead. At first, they assumed it could have been a dissatisfied customer, but soon that theory was discarded. Tom was a jack-of-all-trades, and no one ever complained about his work. Just a day before his death, Amber had taken her car in for an inspection, and they had enjoyed a pleasant conversation, discussing the latest news and weekend plans.

Amber took a deep drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke, and continued to think. Both murders were unrelated in any way. Almost all the victims were people she knew, and the killer's modus operandi was marked by brutality and cold-bloodedness. Her heart clenched with horror and despair. With each passing day, this puzzle became darker and more hopeless.

"Missing since May 16, 2008" – read the note above a photo of a young man with a bright smile. "Presumed dead, body hidden, search ongoing."

This was the first case where the body had not been found. The police had searched numerous forests and abandoned buildings, and the trail had led them to freshly dug ground near the river. When they dug it up, they discovered a decapitated body.

"Killed, presumably with an axe, head severed" – was the note added later, and a photo of the gruesomely mutilated body appeared on the board.

Richard had been fond of skateboarding through the city streets at night. Warnings about the serial killer hadn't stopped him, and he met a tragic end. Amber had often seen him skating around and couldn't believe that someone could do this to such a lively guy.

Rubbing her tired eyes, Amber raised her gaze to the ceiling. She had been hunting this maniac day and night, but he disappeared like a ghost, leaving no trace behind. There were eight victims in total, and the interval between the murders was shrinking by one day. Today, another victim was expected, and all patrol officers were on the streets, closely monitoring the area. All the residents had locked themselves in their homes, hoping to stay safe.

Getting up from the sofa, Amber headed to the bathroom, deciding to wash her face. Turning on the faucet, she watched the cold water run into the sink. She cupped her hands and splashed her face several times. Looking up, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her reflection seemed foreign. Dull eyes with deep, dark circles beneath them, her hair tangled and lacking any shine. She barely recognized herself. Each new death took away a piece of her soul.

"Amber, where did your life go so wrong?" she whispered, staring into her yellow irises. It was a mutation in her eyes, congenital. Though she had hated this trait in her youth, she had grown to love this unique feature about herself.

With a heavy sigh, she grabbed a towel and dried her face. Walking back to her desk, she noticed an overturned photograph. She briefly lifted it, gazing at the face of the man she had once wanted to marry, but things hadn't worked out, and he had left, abandoning her in this town.

Angrily, she slammed the photo back onto the desk, and the glass in the frame cracked.

"Damn it," she muttered, picking up the frame and scattering shards across the desk. "Amber, get it together. You're a mess today," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing the trash can next to her, she swept the broken pieces into it. After cleaning up the mess, she took the photo out of the frame and, after one last glance, slipped it between the pages of a book.

"Sorry, but you're a forgotten chapter of my life," Amber whispered, sitting back down to sift through the case files, trying to find a lead.

Before she could dive deeper into the mystery, her landline phone rang.

"Who needs me in the middle of the night?" she muttered, rising from her chair.

Approaching the phone, she waited a few seconds, hoping the ringing would stop, but when it persisted, she reluctantly picked up the receiver.

"Detective Amber Hill speaking," she answered.

"We've got a situation. Get to 7 Baker Avenue," Frank's familiar voice came through.

Work again. Hanging up the phone, she grabbed her leather jacket, stepped out of the house, and, locking the door behind her, slipped the keys under the doormat.

Concepts of the Main Character