The Thirteenth Target

There was rain streaking through the streets of Detroit, tapping against the windows relentlessly. Ivy Harper climbed and pressed against Ethan’s chocolate-toned body, letting herself feel the rare warmth of a quiet moment. The room’s light was dim, bedsheets tangled around them and their breathing uneven. She looked him in the eyes for seconds and gave him a genuine French kiss. He smiled at her and professed his undying love for her, and even her daughter Gift. For a few minutes, she stopped thinking about the city, her job, and even her personal problems. Ethan’s fingers traced her laps and thighs slowly and softly, grounding her. She closed her eyes, savoring the intimacy not just of the cuddles, but the rare feeling that someone had her completely, if only for a moment. She hadn’t felt this way since her baby daddy abandoned her when he found out that she was pregnant. Then her phone rang. The sound cut through the soft hum of rain like a gunshot. Her mood changed. She groaned and picked it from the bedside table. The screen flashed: Captain Jackson Wyatt. Ethan sighed... “Hang up babe, let’s enjoy our moment.” “Come on sweetie,” Ivy said, voice low but sharp. “Duty calls, please give me a minute.” Then she swiped the call. “Harper.” “Detective Harper, we’ve got another one,” Captain Jax said. “East Detroit. The T:10/13 mark, same pattern as the other.” Ivy felt her stomach twist. “Details, sir?” “Not much yet. We need eyes on the scene now.” “I’m on my way sir,” she said, snapping the phone shut. The familiar negative energy that she always felt before stepping into danger settled over her. She remembered the manifesto written by Travis Ward: Thirteen innocent souls for one guilty soul. Everyone believed Travis Ward, who lost his sister in the hands of a bad guy and got no justice, was the one orchestrating terror from the shadows in revenge. Even Ivy couldn’t shake that possibility. Sliding off the bed, she began dressing up, ignoring Ethan’s concerned look. “I’m going to check it out,” she said. He frowned, lingering a moment before he answered, “Ivy… be careful. Something about this doesn’t feel right.” She nodded. The calm intimacy of the morning and that rare peace with Ethan was gone. The precinct, the case files, the bodies all pressed in, and she welcomed the chaos, if only to shake off the quiet. Gift’s small voice floated from the corridor. “Mom… are we going?” Ivy sighed as she opened the room door and saw Gift. She brushed the damp strands of hair from her daughter’s forehead. “I’m going to check on something, baby. Uncle Ethan here will be with you, okay?” Gift frowned, not entirely understanding, but nodded. She clutched Ethan’s hand tightly as Ivy gave them both a quick warm hug. Then she stepped out with her umbrella, the rain waiting like a wall of glassy silver. The precinct smelled of coffee, wet coats, and tension. Ivy catalogued every movement, every discussion, every subtle clue the room might hold. Davis, Ivy’s colleague was already there, crouched beside the victim, latex gloves on, his calm demeanor steadying the chaos. He looked like someone who liked order and patterns. The type who stayed calm when everything else felt like it was falling apart. “Detective Harper,” he said, rising to meet her. “You’re right on time.” “Wish I wasn’t,” she muttered, crouching beside him. “What do we have?” “Female, mid-thirties. No identity. A single injection to the neck. Toxin traces in her bloodstream, same as the last nine.” He gestured to the victim’s right wrist. “And this.” The mark was clear and deliberate: T:10/13, stamped in blood-red ink. Ivy’s breath hitched. “Number ten. He or she is keeping count.” Davis nodded. “I ran the chemical residue. It’s consistent with the previous cases.” Do we have anything new?” she asked. “Nothing but the pattern,” Davis said. “Every three weeks, one victim. No connection between them, except the mark.” Jax arrived moments later with his coat billowing, “Harper.” “Captain.” “I know you’re exhausted, but this one is personal now. The city’s scared. You’re the only one I trust to end Travis Ward.” His tone softened. Ivy nodded, jaw tight. “Then I’ll end it.” On her way home after 8:00pm, the streets were dull and cloudy, with rain drizzles as she headed home. Suddenly, she heard strange noises of a man calling out for help. Then he stopped. Ivy parked near the bush, grabbing her flashlight and badge. Footprints led to a dark path that looked uneven, deliberate, cautious. Someone wanted her to follow. And she did. Inside, shadows stretched long and alive. Broken crates, faint chemical smells, messy stones. They were deliberate. Someone had left a trail. Her flashlight caught a streak along a rock. Dark, viscous, almost invisible. Toxic, maybe. Not ink. Not paint. Her stomach dropped. Whoever had been here had planned this. Then she heard it: a soft shuffle from the far corner. She froze and her heart hammered. Whoever it was, they were careful. Observing and waiting. “Hello?” Her voice cut through the bush, steady despite the adrenaline flooding her veins. There was no answer. She felt a shadow move, just beyond the reach of her flashlight. She edged closer. Footsteps echoed behind her. She spun, and then she saw it. Attached to the rock was a note, scrawled in jagged, uneven letters and numbers: T:10/13 done. Three to go. Ivy became terrified and swore that the note wasn’t there when she arrived at the site. Nine people are already dead. The tenth victim marked. And now, someone wanted her to see the message. Her phone buzzed. Someone sent her an anonymous message. Her stomach turned as she saw the picture. A stamp on the right wrist, the same chilling “T:10/13.” Ivy’s chest tightened. This wasn’t random. Someone was behind everything. And the next target? She feared it could be her. Or worse, her daughter. A faint noise from afar. Moving. Watching. Waiting. Ivy gripped her flashlight tighter. Whoever or whatever was there knew she had arrived. She wasn’t alone. And suddenly, the rain drizzles, the darkness in the bush and the shadows on the walls all felt alive. “Hello, who’s there?” She shouted, but everywhere was silent. “I shouldn’t have come here alone.” She said with her voice trembling.