Diary of a Detective

Resolution

8/12/1997 10.08am Matvei's house

Matvei's front door bangs open on its hinges, and in trudges Tejas, eyes bloodshot. His keys and gun are missing, but he won't be needing them. All he has with him is a pair of handcuffs. He makes his way to the den easily. Hanna is the only officer on the scene - all the others have fled presumably. She kneels over Matvei's corpse, face down on the wooden floor in a pool of crimson. A bloodied kitchen knife lies beside him on a sheet of plastic. On seeing him Hanna stands, walking over to him with some notes. "Tejas, the other officers will be coming in a while. It’s still early. But we've finally got some evidence. Your prints match those found on this knife," she points to the murder weapon on the floor. "Did you have a break-in in your house last night? We could investigate that..." She trails on, but Tejas stops registering words.

He freezes. The knife... He gapes down at it. It looked awfully like the knife he brought to bed last night. Can't be... "And before I forget again, here's your pistol. You left it at Henrique's house yesterday." Tejas takes it blankly. He didn't remember going to Henrique's house yesterday. A sickening feeling starts to rise in the back of his throat. His eyes dart around desperately, coming to rest on none other than his own house keys, lying innocuously on the ground, half hidden under Matvei's sofa. Everything in his mind clicks in a sudden moment of clarity. His shaky fists clench in frightened resolve.

"Alright, Hanna, I'm gonna need you to examine the wounds on Matvei's neck. Could you take a blood sample for me?" Tejas says, light-headed. He can't believe Hanna doesn't notice the trembling in his voice. The meek assisting officer nods, retrieving a syringe and bending over Matvei's corpse. While Hanna's back is turned, Tejas slowly picks up the kitchen knife on the floor. His kitchen knife. The heavy handle fits in his hands, like a glove. His fingers close around it comfortably. It feels worn. It feels made. Made for him.

The beautiful honed blade slid easily through Hanna's neck, slicing through her spinal accessory nerve, her external jugular vein, past flesh and nerve and bone. She gasps in shock, coughing blood and struggling, but her vocal cords are severed, Tejas thinks grimly, and she can't make a sound. The heavy knife clatters onto the floor as police sirens wail in the distance.