Diary of a Detective

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5/12/1997 10.15am Kuvam's house

A weary detective steps through the door of the old home, hinges squeaking noisily. The scene is already swarming with officers. Tejas' sunken eyes are greeted with the sickening fluorescent yellow of crime scene tapes embellishing every corner of the cosy abode. The dulcet tones of persistent officers fill his fatigued ears even as the detective makes his way through the officers like a ghost, his lifeless gaze coming to rest on the equally lifeless corpse of Kuvam, his childhood friend, propped up to rest in his favourite bearskin armchair. On his face - a look of pure terror, shock. Maybe he recognised the killer. Maybe he knew who the killer was. He had to be silenced. Tejas utters a silent prayer for his friend before inspecting the body.

A stream of crimson trails from a large gash in Kuvam's neck. Tejas stares, hardly believing his eyes. The corpse's common carotid artery, he identifies, has been cleaved clean. Tejas shivers. His thyroid gland, pretracheal fascia and everything past that had been severed. The murderer's precision is almost surgical, with anatomical knowledge only a doctor would possess. Tejas fears for his own life. Anyone next, anyone targeted, was as good as dead.

The lead investigating officer, Hanna, comes over with the details. Based on the blood samples, the murder occurred between 2 and 3am in the morning - the deathly hours of the night where no living creature stirred, not even an insomniac detective. Like the previous 4 murders, no prints were found - everything wiped clean. A significant number of bullet casings had been found on the floor, and the back windows were shattered, pockmarked with bullet holes. A solid piece of evidence - the killer was slipping up. Tejas had to end this spree fast.