A Killer's Field Day [Part E]

Collins in the station was going through a file, it had the case of Jon Klever murdered in his own home two years ago. His neck was sliced and his mouth was stuffed and Collins thinks that this case might be related to the Owl Serial Homicides as the case was now called.

It had to be connected.

Collins turned the page. No mention of an owl figure in the crime scene inventory. That was unusual. Was this not related at all? A break in the pattern? Or had the killer evolved from then?

Collins tapped his pen against the desk, his mind racing. If Jon Klever's murder was connected to the Owl Serial Homicides, then why was there no owl figurine at the scene? Every other victim had one—a small, hand-carved owl left near the body, like a twisted calling card. But Klever's case lacked that crucial detail.

Had the killer changed their methods? Or had they not yet established the ritual back then? Collins frowned, flipping through the pages again. The brutality was the same—deep, precise cuts. The mouth being stuffed shut… that was also a recurring detail. But something still didn't fit.

He reached for his coffee, now lukewarm, and took a sip. The precinct was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional rustling of papers and the distant ringing of a phone. 

He scanned the crime scene photos again. Jon Klever's body had been slumped in his armchair, blood pooling around his feet. A clean slice across the throat—deliberate, practiced. The stuffing in his mouth… fabric, it had said in the report. A piece of his shirt. That was odd. Most of the other victims had something different—paper, napkins, and sometimes even money. What did it mean?

Collins flipped to the autopsy report. Klever had defensive wounds on his hands, meaning he fought back. That wasn't common among the other victims. Usually, the Owl Killer's targets were taken by surprise, and subdued quickly. But Klever… he had struggled.

His gut told him this was still connected. Maybe Klever had known something. Maybe he had recognized his killer. He had worked at Nerss Consulting as a senior consultant so... a college? Or maybe a client. 

Collins ran his hand through his blonde hair as he leaned back in his chair.

Then the door creaked open Hensley and Elli came in. Elli slammed a file onto Collins' desk so hard and it might have almost cracked in half. Collins jolted awake and looked at Elli with a pointed look.

"You asked about Klever he was dead for two years so took some f***king effort." 

Hensley sat down beside Collins. "Lady show some damn f***king respect to Collins."

Collins sighed, rubbing his temple as he looked at the thick file now sitting on his desk like a challenge. Elli was never one for patience, and her temper was on par with Hensley's and that was never a good thing. But she was damn good at her job.

He pulled the file toward him, flipping it open. "So? What did you find?"

Elli crossed her arms. "Klever had some enemies. Nothing unusual for a consultant, but a few names kept popping up—clients pissed about bad deals, coworkers who thought he was a snake. Most of it's just business grudges."

Hensley leaned in. "Except for one. His old assistant, Jacob Firth. The guy was fired a few months before Klever bit the dust. Made a big scene, threatened him in front of half the office."

Collins frowned, scanning the pages. "And where is this Firth now?"

Elli smirked. "See, that's the fun part. He went missing six months after Klever's murder. Just vanished. No family, no bank activity, no body."

Collins felt a cold weight settle in his gut. "You think he's another victim?"

"Maybe," Hensley said. "Or maybe he's our guy."

Collins considered that. The Owl Killer had a pattern, but every killer had to start somewhere. Could Klever have been the first? The prototype? If Firth was missing, it was just as likely that he had been silenced.

Collins flipped through the file, scanning for more connections. His eyes landed on an address—Klever's home, the crime scene. It had been sold after his death, but something felt off.

"When was this place last checked?" he asked.

Elli raised an eyebrow. "Not since the case went cold."

"Then we're going back." Collins stood, grabbing his coat. "Something about this doesn't sit right. Either Klever was the first, or he knew something."

Hensley groaned. "Great. Another long f***king morning."

Elli grabbed the keys and handed them to Hensley. "Shut up and drive."

"I have been a detective for thirteen years since I was twenty-five and now I am a chauffeur," Hensley grumbled as he looked at the keys in his hand.

"Shut the f***k up," Elli retorted. "You are the one breaking human rights by biting people's ears off laterally." 

Collins chuckled as he pulled on his coat. "She's got a point, Hensley. You're lucky Internal Affairs didn't hang you out to dry after that one."

Hensley scoffed. "Guy was a drug dealer resisting arrest. I didn't 'bite' his ear off—I just took a chunk out of it."

Elli rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, that makes it so much better."

Collins shook his head, suppressing a grin. "Enough. Let's move."

The three of them exited the station, stepping into the chilly morning air. The streets were quiet, the city wrapped in a blanket of the first sun rays of the day. Hensley unlocked the car with a sigh, slipping into the driver's seat. Elli took a shotgun, leaving Collins in the back with the files.

As the car rumbled to life, Collins flipped through the pages again. Something about Klever's case kept gnawing at him, an itch in his brain that wouldn't go away. The lack of the signature owl figurine, the fact that Klever had fought back, and now this missing assistant—none of it fit cleanly.

"Hey, Hensley," Collins said, eyes still scanning the file. "How long does it take for a body to decompose beyond recognition?"

Hensley shrugged. "Depends on the environment. If it's out in the open? Few weeks, give or take. Buried? Longer. Why?"

Collins tapped the file. "Firth went missing six months after Klever was killed. No body, no activity. But what if he wasn't missing?"

Elli twisted in her seat. "You think he's dead?"

"I think he was made to disappear," Collins said, shutting the file. "And if that's the case, someone wanted him gone for a reason. Either he was a loose end…" His voice trailed off.

"Or?" Elli pushed.

"Or he knew something."

The car turned down a street covered in shadows, the soft hum of the engine the only sound.

Hensley sighed. "Great. We're not just dealing with a serial killer. Now we've got a damn conspiracy too."

Hensley groaned. "Told you it was gonna be a long f***king morning."

******

Daniel woke up and checked the time 6:45 a.m perfect time for a jog around the garden... but Daniel was in no mood for it. He just woke up and took a shower.

After taking the shower he came out and just wore his normal clothes. A white shirt made with cotton—probably more expensive than a second-hand car—the same can be said about his pants and his watch.

Daniel ran a hand through his damp black hair as he adjusted his watch, the sleek, silver dial catching the morning light. He wasn't one for excessive luxury, but his clothes—his entire lifestyle—reflected something unavoidable. Wealth had a way of embedding itself in the details—especially with his mom showering him with these things—even when he didn't try.

He stepped out of his room, the cool marble floor beneath his feet grounding him. The house was quiet, the only sound coming from the distant hum of the kitchen staff preparing breakfast.

As he made his way downstairs, he checked his phone. A few notifications blinked back at him—some message from his mom in Paris and his friends Ron and Aren, and a news alert. He skimmed through them with disinterest.

As he reached down he went to the living room larger than most houses and a TV as large as a wall. He sat on the plush and soft sofa. 

'Things get boring after a time... well the causals at least I do very much enjoy my... hobbies. Hahaha the fear in their eyes, the dread oh my my how delightful that is. Pointless lives are finally being a use to me as entertainment. No TV show, book, or movie can compare to seeing them squirm and yell and die.'

Daniel leaned back into the plush sofa, a smirk playing on his lips as he scrolled through his phone. The news alert caught his eye.

"Owl Serial Homicides: Authorities Still Searching for Leads."

He tapped the article, scanning the words with mild amusement. They were still scrambling, still lost in the dark, chasing shadows and ghosts. He had to give them credit—they were persistent. But persistence meant nothing without intelligence, and the ones hunting him were so painfully predictable.

A chuckle rumbled from his throat as he read a quote from Detective Jacob Collins. "We believe the killer is evolving, adapting. We won't stop until we find them."

'Evolving? Maybe. But adapting? No. They were the ones who had to adapt.' He set the phone down, staring at the massive TV screen as it mirrored his thoughts.

A staff member came and placed a bowl of Daniel's favorite fruits. Grapes, Strawberries, watermelon, and blueberries, a healthy and tasty snack. 

"Linda," Daniel called out as he took one blueberry and tossed it in his mouth. 

"Yes sir," Linda answered back turning to her.

"I think you're son... Ethan is getting a bit radical," Daniel casually said as he took a bite of a strawberry.

Linda tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. "Why would you say that?"

"He is sixteen it's the time to be radical." Daniel gestured vaguely at the kitchen counter. "I left a tip of three to four hundred dollars, didn't bother counting. Tell everyone their shift ends early."

Linda nodded and got back to her duties, but her mind was still on what he said about Ethan. Did he know something she didn't? She didn't bother asking any more questions. The other staff might love Daniel for his natural 'charisma,'  but she gets the creeps from him.

So ending the conversation fast is always what she does. Though he still gives generous tips, so she always tries to get a shift when he is home.