KAI
Mary Alarcon's murder scene reeked of violence and despair. Bloodstains trailed across the floor, leading to the lifeless body of a young girl with a promising future, now snuffed out. The scent of fear lingered, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. I crouched next to her, examining the scene with meticulous attention.
"She didn't go down without a fight," Marcus said, standing beside me. His voice was grim, eyes scanning for any missed clues.
"Yeah," I muttered, noticing the defensive wounds on her arms. "This wasn't just an attack; it was a message."
We found broken glass near the windowsill and muddy footprints leading out the back door. They were distinct – too deliberate to be overlooked. "These prints," I pointed out, "they're leading away from here."
"Someone wanted us
