Chapter 1: The One Who Watched
Grafton City – 4:36 a.m.
The girl in the red dress floated like a ghost.
Her body bobbed near the riverbank, pale skin glowing under the flicker of a dying streetlamp. Water tugged at her hair like fingers, turning her into something too fragile to be real.
Detective Mara Vex stood on the soaked concrete, hands clenched in the pockets of her long coat. She’d seen dead women before. But this one had been left with care — posed, almost… cherished.
“Third one this month,” Officer Lin said quietly beside her. “Same style.”
Mara didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the girl’s hands — one resting on her chest, the other extended, palm up, like she was waiting for someone to take it.
No defensive wounds. Just bruised knuckles and smeared lipstick. Mara crouched, ignoring the cold biting through her jeans.
“She was dead before she hit the water,” the coroner confirmed behind her. “Lungs are clear.”
He always kills them first, then places them here. Dressed up. Washed. Posed.
Like art.
Or a message.
Mara stood and lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. She didn’t smoke. Not since her sister died. But some mornings called for fire.
Somewhere Else
He watched her scream, again and again, in high definition.
Paused the video. Rewound. Watched the moment she realized.
Her mouth opened in shock. Not terror. Recognition.
He smiled, fingers caressing the trackpad like it was skin.
“She knew me,” he whispered in the dark room. “She saw me. That makes her mine.”
He clicked off the video. Three down. One waiting.
He already knew who she was.
Grafton City Homicide HQ – 9:12 a.m.
The rain hadn’t stopped. It never did in this part of the city.
Mara dumped her soaked coat on a chair and slapped three photos on the corkboard. Same river. Same red dress. Same bruised wrists.
The victims weren’t random. They were chosen.
But chosen for what?
She reached for the subway footage from the second murder. Blurry shot. Early morning. A man in a hoodie, head down. Just a background shadow.
Until she saw him again — same angle, different time — standing across the street from the first victim’s apartment.
Her blood ran cold.
Same build. Same stance. Same nothing face.
He wasn’t stalking them. He was studying them.
Mara leaned in, heart pounding.
Whoever he was, he was getting closer.
And she had the gut-deep feeling…
He was already watching her.
