Act 1.3 Search for the Serial Killer

Amber pulled up to the library, located in the old part of town. She noticed a police car parked nearby and spotted Frank standing in front of the entrance.

Stepping out of the car, she walked over to him.

"Hey, have you been waiting long?" she asked as she approached.

"Not too long. The door's locked. I tried breaking in, but something's blocking it from the inside," he replied.

Walking over to a window, Amber saw that the door had been barricaded with something.

"We'll find another way in," she decided.

Amber started walking along the side of the building, examining it. Her search for another entrance led her to a dark alleyway, a narrow passage between two buildings. The alley was filled with trash, old furniture, and other things that had either been forgotten or left behind. It smelled awful. The distant noise of the city could still be heard, but here, there was a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sound of cars passing on the nearby street.

"Ugh," she coughed from the stench. Her partner, Frank, only wrinkled his nose slightly. After all his years on the job, he'd seen much worse. A bad smell was the least of his concerns.

She spotted a broken window.

"Give me a boost," Amber said.

Frank leaned his back against the wall and crossed his hands, offering her a step up. Amber placed her foot on his hands and climbed up onto the windowsill. As she pulled herself inside, she scraped her hand against the edge of the broken glass.

"Dammit."

Inside, it was dark. No daylight reached this side of the building. She switched on her flashlight, illuminating the old room. The sound of scurrying filled the silence as dozens of mice darted into the corners. The room was full of old books, broken furniture, and assorted debris. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and the air smelled of decay and mildew.

Leaving the room, she entered the main hall, where she headed toward the front entrance, moving aside the fallen bookshelf that had blocked the door. She cleared the way.

Frank entered, and together they began exploring the library. At first glance, it looked like no one had been here for years. Yet it was clear that kids had been sneaking in, leaving graffiti on the walls.

Amber wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for. Maybe the killer's clothes, left behind, or the murder weapon. Starting in one of the corners of the room, they began sifting through everything they could find. The floor was made of wooden planks, partially covered by rugs.

"Frank, help me move this bookshelf. Let's see what's under it," Amber said, tapping her boot against the floor.

Together, they pushed the bookshelf aside. An old cabinet was in the way, so they moved that too. Amber lifted the corner of the rug. The floorboards were rotting in places, but there were no hidden secrets beneath them. Several bookshelves remained unsearched, and as she combed through one, she found a stack of newspapers.

"Baron Herman Strutz tragically dies," Amber whispered, reading a headline. The article described his death as mysterious: he'd died of fright, his eyes wide open, mouth frozen in a scream. Rumors quickly spread about his mansion being haunted. No new owner had ever come forward to claim it, and it had been abandoned ever since.

Setting aside the useless old newspaper, she finished checking the room and headed for the next one. Room by room, they searched the entire first floor. Everything was covered in dust and grime, and eventually, they slumped down onto a bench, exhausted.

"Ugh, I'm too old to be running around like this," Frank said, wiping sweat from his brow.

"One more floor, and we'll be done with this," Amber replied, yawning from exhaustion.

"Could use some coffee. Let's take a quick break. I'll grab us some donuts and coffee," Frank offered, noticing her yawn.

"Sounds good. I'll keep looking around while you're gone," Amber said.

After Frank left, Amber took a moment to catch her breath. That's when she noticed a jacket lying on the floor, smeared with oil. At first, it didn't seem significant, but as she approached and saw the workshop logo, she realized who it belonged to. It was Thomas' jacket, the mechanic who had fallen victim to the killer. Turning it over, she discovered a hammer, stained with blood. It was both good and bad news.

Good, because it confirmed they were on the right track. Bad, because it meant they had missed this clue for so long. If any fingerprints were left on the hammer, they might be one step closer to catching the killer.

Fueled by renewed determination, Amber resumed her search, scrutinizing every little detail. More and more, she began to find items that once belonged to the victims. On the second floor, in one of the rooms, she found a hidden compartment beneath the floorboards, tucked under an old rug. The boards had been carefully cut to fit together seamlessly. Lifting them, she found old clothing, smelling exactly like the scrap of fabric she had seen before. The clothes were decades old, heavily worn. As she pulled them out, she uncovered a mask.

A sharp pain throbbed in her head, as if something inside her was trying to break free.

"Did you find something?" a voice called out.

The strange sensation vanished as quickly as it had come. She looked up to see Frank standing there, holding a box of donuts and two cups of coffee.

"Yeah, it's his clothes. I also found items that belonged to the victims. We need to call the forensic team and cordon off the area," Amber replied.

"So, we're getting closer to catching him. Are we done searching?" Frank asked.

"No, I still feel like there's something else here," she admitted.

"Alright, let's keep looking," Frank said, handing her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Amber said, gratefully taking a sip of the energizing drink.

As they continued their search, Amber noticed something odd—a set of footprints on the carpet, as if someone had frequently walked or stopped there. Lifting the carpet, she found nothing underneath. Glancing around the room, she saw only a small side table, which was too far from the spot to be relevant. Shifting her gaze to the wall, she scrutinized the faded, peeling wallpaper, noticing the seams where the sheets met.

"Hmm, maybe…" She pulled a small knife from her pocket and slipped the blade into the crack between the wallpaper. Suddenly, the blade slid into a gap. Pushing to the left, she hit a solid surface. Trying the other direction, she felt an empty space. Pressing harder, a hidden panel opened, revealing a cache of documents inside.

Amber inspected the first folder, filled with strange symbols that didn't make any immediate sense. Flipping through the pages, she saw photographs of houses, people, and various locations. The writing was barely legible, messy and full of mistakes, but one line stood out to her.

"Wals down Busnas avena," she read aloud, struggling to make sense of the scrawl. It looked like this person had no formal education, given how badly the words were written. Still, she understood that the killer had been tracking his victims.

As she flipped through the files, she realized all the victims had already been murdered, except for one—the final target wasn't listed. It seemed the police officer's death had been a coincidence.

By the time she finished her review, police officers and forensic experts had entered the library. They cordoned off the area and began collecting the evidence Amber had uncovered.

"Amber, great job. At least we managed to find something," said Captain James as he approached her. "The District Attorney's been calling me multiple times a day, threatening to remove me from my position as precinct captain."

"Just doing my job," Amber replied simply. She knew that when things went wrong, the captain was always the first to take the blame for any mistakes or poor results.

"Still, thank you. At least we have some progress now. We'll catch this bastard soon," the captain said, his voice filled with determination.

"Yeah," Amber murmured.

"Take the night off. You've worked hard enough," Captain James said.

Nodding, Amber headed towards the exit. She paused for a moment to glance back at the library, a feeling she couldn't quite shake lingering inside her. Getting into her car, she began driving home.

When she stopped at a traffic light, her gaze drifted to a nearby store. Needing a break, she turned right and parked in front of it. Walking inside, she made her way directly to the alcohol section. She decided to grab just one bottle. After making her purchase, she headed back to her car and drove the short distance home.

Finally home after just a few minutes, she collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of relief. Kicking her feet up onto the coffee table, she opened the bottle and, after a brief hesitation, took a swig straight from it. Leaning her head back into the soft cushions, she let out a contented sigh.

"It'll all be over soon. Just hang on a little longer," she whispered to herself. The pressure from others—and from herself—was starting to take a toll on her mental health. "Time to get back to work."

Pushing herself off the couch, Amber set the bottle aside and returned to her desk. She began sorting through the notes she'd written on small pieces of paper, and after organizing them, she moved over to a board and carefully pinned them in place.

"If he's been hiding out in the library all this time, where are the signs of him actually living there? It looks more like a temporary hideout—there's no trash, no evidence of meals or anything like that. So, he must live somewhere else. We need to find that place. Hmm..." She pondered for a moment before marking the library on the map.

"You definitely can't be living in the city—it's too risky to stay in plain sight. In a small town, everyone notices strangers, and the locals all have solid alibis. But how are you getting food? You can't just be hunting in the forest, can you? Maybe you are... I should check that out. Victor would know if someone's been hunting in the woods," Amber said aloud.

Victor was responsible for guarding the forest, keeping an eye on poachers, and rescuing lost hikers. As a forest ranger, he knew the area well, and if there had been an increase in the number of animals killed recently, it would confirm her suspicions.

Determined to find out as soon as possible, Amber grabbed the phone and dialed Victor's number. After a few rings, a male voice answered on the other end.

"Victor, Forest Service, speaking."

"Hey, it's Amber," she said.

"Oh, good to hear from you. Though, your calls are usually work-related," Victor replied with a chuckle. He had often helped them search the woods for missing people or remains of murder victims.

"I wish I could say this was a social call, but it's work-related again, unfortunately," she admitted.

"What's going on this time?" he asked.

"Have there been any recent increases in the number of animals killed by people?" Amber asked directly.

"Hmm, hard to say. I caught one poacher, but he was fishing. I've seen him a few times before, and he's been caught in other regions as well. However, there have been strange cases where animals were killed unnaturally, but I didn't find any hunting tracks," Victor explained.

"What do you mean by 'strange'?" Amber asked.

"They weren't killed by firearms or traps. It doesn't look like wolf or bear claws and teeth either. It's as if someone used a sharp object to decapitate them. But trust me, chasing down and then decapitating a wolf is not something a human is capable of," Victor said.

"And was the meat taken?" Amber continued her questions.

"No, it wasn't. Everything was left in place. I suspect it could be some kind of new poaching trap or something similar, but it's hard to say. Another possibility is a tranquilizer, followed by manual finishing off. But I have no idea why someone would do that," Victor concluded.

"I have a suspicion that the maniac is living somewhere in the forest and surviving on game, but since you're saying the meat wasn't touched, now I'm confused," Amber admitted.

"That is odd. You know, come by and take a look at the site. Maybe you'll spot something I missed," Victor suggested.

"Alright, I'll take a look. This is my only lead for now," Amber replied.

The puzzle had been coming together so well, but now she had hit another roadblock. They had already checked the alibis of everyone in town multiple times, and no one had raised even the slightest suspicion. There were no reports of strangers in the area, only the occasional traveler passing through, staying one night before moving on.

She needed to examine the animal killing sites. Rifling through the case files, she found photos of the victims with severed limbs to compare the strikes. This was her only lead that could put her back on track.

After getting back in touch with Victor, they arranged a meeting spot. It was already midday, and she needed to finish everything before dark—searching in the forest at night would be difficult, and even worse, there could be another murder. Time was running out.

On her way, she stopped by a supermarket, grabbing some junk food and eating it on the drive. Simple music played on the radio as she left the city behind. There were few cars on the road, allowing her to drive faster and reach her destination quickly. She pulled up next to a vehicle parked on the side of the road. Stepping out of her car, she didn't see Victor inside. Nearby, there was a well-trodden path leading into the forest.

Deciding to follow it, Amber entered the woods. The trees echoed with the occasional chirp of birds, while a gentle breeze rustled the leaves and branches. Soon, the path began to fade, becoming less and less visible until it vanished altogether. Standing still, she glanced around, uncertain of which direction to go.

"I really don't need to get lost now. Victor, where did you go?" Amber muttered.

Just as she thought of him, she heard the rustling of bushes, and snapping her attention in that direction, she saw Victor emerging. He was a man of average height, with a rough-looking, clean-shaven face, and a slight frown. He was dressed in the uniform of a forest ranger.

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"Sorry, I stepped away for a bit. Let's go," said Victor as he walked through the dense forest.

"Yeah," Amber responded.

"How's the investigation going?" Victor asked as they continued down the forest trail.

"We've managed to catch a lead," she reported.

"That's good news. I didn't think the maniac would be hiding in the forest," Victor noted.

"Neither did I. I was too focused on the idea that he was in or near the city," Amber added.

"We all think we're smart, but life has a way of humbling us," said Victor, his voice carrying the weight of experience from countless tough situations.

"Maybe, but so many people have suffered because of me," Amber sighed.

"Don't carry that burden alone; no one blames you. We all know you've been working tirelessly, barely sleeping, just to catch the criminal," Victor said, holding a branch aside for her to pass.

"It doesn't make it any easier," Amber replied as they crossed over a fallen tree without much effort.

"I understand," Victor agreed.

Soon, they arrived at the site, and the smell hit Amber hard, triggering a wave of nausea. The stench of a decaying body lingered, and flies buzzed around.

"Here's one of the animals. I found it recently, didn't have time to deal with it yet," Victor said. He usually either buried the animals he found or took them to areas where predators lived, so the meat didn't go to waste.

"And where's the head?" Amber asked.

"I don't know. Every victim like this is missing its head. At first, I thought poachers were taking trophies to sell on the black market, but they wouldn't leave the carcass and all this evidence behind," Victor explained.

"Why do you think it wasn't a person who did this?" Amber asked, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it to her nose as she moved closer to the body.

"It's hard to say. The animal wasn't caught in any traps or hit by a weapon, just the decapitated head. After the first victim, I set up trail cameras to figure out how the animals were dying, but they didn't show anything useful. In some footage, the animal suddenly got scared, bolted off, and then I found them like this. All the cases happened in blind spots," Victor explained.

"Why didn't you report these incidents earlier?" Amber asked.

"I knew the police were busy dealing with the maniac and wouldn't have time for animals. Plus, I did report it to the district office. But they said they'd handle it later. And the number of victims has only increased in the past two weeks. Before that, there were only two cases," Victor said.

"Strange. The number of human murders has also increased in the last two weeks," Amber noted, as she compared the photos, noticing similarities in the injuries—cut edges, strike trajectories, and other details matched up.

"What do you think?" Victor asked.

"I think our maniac is killing anyone and anything he can get his hands on. It's definitely him," Amber suggested.

"Are you sure? Why would he target animals?" Victor asked, puzzled.

"Psychopaths don't care who or what they kill," Amber replied, taking out a camera and snapping a few photos of the animal. "Can you show me the footage from the trail cameras?"

"Yeah, they're back at the office," Victor replied, glancing thoughtfully at the animal. "I'll give you the keys. You can check them yourself while I take care of burying this deer."

Nodding, Amber headed back toward the car.