PARANORMAL INVESTIGATIONS

In the heart of Eastgate City, a disturbing crime disrupts the usual urban bustle—the beloved owner of Carter's Corner Bookstore, Helen Carter, is found murdered in her shop. I step into the chaotic crime scene, I know this case won't be straightforward. The security cameras, which should have captured the crime, are mysteriously non-functional, adding another layer of complexity from the get-go. I start my investigation at the heart of Helen's world, her bookstore. Despite being nestled in a district that blends high culture with deep urban challenges, Helen had made her store a sanctuary for literature lovers. I interviewed her employees and the regulars who were all in shock; Helen was not just a bookstore owner but a pillar in the literary community. Her loss is deeply felt, making the motive behind her murder even more baffling. As days go by, our team expands the search, combing through Helen's digital footprints, her recent communications, and her financial records. Each piece of evidence seems to weave a more intricate web. I feel the pressure mounting; the killer is still out there, and now, more than ever, they're aware that we're on their trail. "Mm, I don't understand why people like him" I cross my arms, my frown deepening as I continue to glare at the window to Chief Regan's office. The curtains might as well be walls for all they hide. Sam, leaning against the cool hallway wall, seems momentarily lost in thought as she gazes in the same direction. "I get you," she murmurs absently, her voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. Samantha Rivera stands at a striking 5'7", her spiky blue hair is typically pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, framing a face that holds piercing brown eyes. Sam holds a Bachelor's degree in Graphic Design, complemented by specialized training in digital media and user experience design. My gaze sharpens, and I turn to look at her. "You do?" I ask skeptically. Sam snaps to attention, her daydream shattered. "Wait, what!" She blinks rapidly, refocusing on me. "I just said I don't like him," I clarify, my tone edged with irritation. "There's something off about him." Sam chuckles, shaking her head. "There's nothing wrong with him. Everyone loves him. I'm sure some husbands are even willing to trade their wives for a chance to be him." "Exactly!" I exclaim, feeling a spark of validation. "So you get it?" she probes, a playful smirk playing at her lips. "Yes, he's loved by everyone. That's exactly what's suspicious. It's unnatural and very wrong. Even Lucifer isn't loved by everyone," I argue, my voice rising slightly in my passion. Sam raises an eyebrow, "Who even likes Lucifer?" I count off on my fingers, "Me, The Church of Satan, occult groups, satanic worshippers, internet forums..." "Okay, I get it. Devil worshipers," Sam interrupts, waving a dismissive hand. "Exactly! Everyone talks about him, some even sacrifice animals for him, but that guy, Dr. Alex Turner. He's even worse. Some would die for him. It's bizarre." Sam's eyes widen slightly as she processes my words. "That man is Dr. Alex Turner, a multi-disciplinary expert who assists the police with cold cases. He holds four degrees: a B.Sc. in Biology, an M.Sc. in Forensic Science, a Ph.D. in Forensic Anthropology from Yale, and an M.A. in Criminal Psychology. He's practically a deity!" I scowl, my disdain bubbling over. "Oh, great. I hate him even more now." Oh, I'm Detective Avaneshia Johnson, well Ava for short. I'm 5'9" tall with a strong, fit body that I've maintained by training in martial arts for two weeks. My bright red hair flows over my shoulders, and my striking red eyes and sharp facial features stand out. I usually wear black high-heeled boots, black pants, a black crop top, and a black coat every day. This outfit is stylish, practical, and professional. I graduated with top marks, earning a Bachelor's degree in Psychology, followed by two Master's degrees, one in Criminology and another in Nutrition, focusing on dietetics and public health. As Sam and I continue our conversation, the door to Chief Regan's office swings open abruptly. Dr. Alex Turner steps out, his presence immediately commanding the hallway. His sharp gaze sweeps over us, lingering just a moment too long in what could be construed as a silent assessment. Sam straightens up, looking very professional. I step back without thinking, feeling a strong dislike for the man. "Dr. Turner, I'm Detective Sam Rivera and this is my partner Ava Johnson," Sam says, nodding her head as she speaks. Her voice is calm and polite. "We are just talking about your great work." Dr Turner smiles a little like he knows something we don't. "I hope I'm living up to the reputation," he says smoothly, his voice steady. "There's no doubt about that," Sam replies, while I stay quiet, my arms crossed tightly. Dr. Alex Turner stands at 6'1" with a lean, athletic build. His intense blue eyes and neatly trimmed dark hair give him a commanding presence. Known for his sharp style, he often wears tailored suits that enhance his professional demeanor. Alex carries himself with a calm confidence, reflecting his meticulous and methodical approach to forensic psychology. Yet, if you look closely, there's an intensity in his demeanor that might suggest he's unstable, I can't be the only one who thinks that though, some are just scared to admit it. Chief Regan appears at the doorway, his eyes flicking between us. "Ah, you've met Dr. Turner. Good. He'll be joining us on this case. It's a tricky one, and we could use his expertise." I bite my tongue to keep from protesting. Working closely with Turner was not what I had in mind, but complaining now would look unprofessional. "Let's head to the briefing room," Chief Regan announces, leading the way. Dr. Turner follows, with Sam and I trailing behind. As we walk, Sam leans in and whispers, "Give him a chance. Who knows? He might surprise you." "I doubt it," I mutter under my breath, skeptical but begrudgingly open to the possibility that my first impression could be wrong. In the briefing room, Chief Regan starts outlining the details of the new case on a large screen, the room dimly lit except for the glow of the projector. Maps, timelines, and photos flash by as he speaks. Dr. Turner sits at the front, jotting notes into a sleek, black notebook, his expression unreadable. I find a seat at the back, still unsettled by Turner's presence but determined to focus on the task at hand. Sam sits next to me, her attention divided between the presentation and making occasional reassuring glances in my direction. RING! RING! RING I wake up confused, the edges of a pleasant dream still clinging to my consciousness. The alarm rings sharply, pulling me further from the gentle grasp of sleep. As sunlight spills through the curtains, I try to hold onto the fragments of the dream where I was at work, a scenario so different from my reality. I stretch slowly, trying to shake off the confusion and orient myself in the familiar comfort of my room. The dream had felt so real, filled with the buzz of an office, a stark contrast to my usual, unhurried days. "Huuh! Sam is not even a detective, what the hell!" Rubbing my eyes, I sit up and take in the warmth of the room, letting the remnants of the dream fade. "Who the f**k is Dr Alex Turner?" Okay, I'm really confused. Was that all just a dream? Some parts seemed real, but not the detective part. I'm not a detective. I started with psychology because my mom was kind of my role model. Then my dad was upset that I followed her path, after years of training me to be a police officer, so after getting my master's, I switched to criminology. To be honest, both were pretty dull. I ended up studying dietetics, which was awesome, but even with all those degrees, I'm still jobless.