Inside the precinct, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and anticipation, and the harsh glare of fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the faces of the detectives. Detective Marcus Blackwood stood at the head of the conference room, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard covered in photographs and evidence from the crime scene.
"Our victim is Sarah Parker, 26 years old," Blackwood began, his voice low and commanding, each word echoing in the tense silence. "She was found murdered in her apartment last night; a single rose was left behind as the killer's calling card."
The room fell silent as Blackwood outlined the gruesome details of the crime scene—the pool of blood, the deep, jagged gash on Sarah's neck, the torn and tattered remains of her clothing—each piece of evidence more chilling than the last.
"But why the rose?" Ramirez asked, his voice breaking the silence like a thunderclap and his eyes narrowing in frustration and determination.
Blackwood shook his head, his frustration evident in the tight line of his jaw. "I don't know yet. But we need to find out. We need to find this killer before they strike again."
The room erupted into action as Blackwood's team set to work, their fingers flying over keyboards and their eyes scanning over the evidence spread out before them. The hum of the fluorescent lights filled the room, casting a harsh, almost clinical light over the scene, intensifying the urgency of their task.
Blackwood watched as his team worked tirelessly, each detective driven by a fierce determination to unravel the mystery. They chased down leads, analyzed every scrap of evidence, and precisely followed each clue. But with each passing hour, Blackwood's frustration grew. They were no closer to finding the killer than they were when they started.
Just as hope began to wane, something caught Blackwood's eye—a small, seemingly insignificant detail that he had overlooked before. It was a fingerprint on the rose left at the crime scene—a partial print, but it was enough to give them a lead.
With renewed determination, Blackwood and his team redoubled their efforts, working through the night to track down the owner of the fingerprint. But as they delved deeper into the investigation, they soon realized that they were up against a cunning and elusive adversary—one who would stop at nothing to evade capture.
As the first light of dawn crept through the windows of the precinct, Blackwood knew that the hunt was far from over. But with each passing hour, they were one step closer to bringing a killer to justice. Just a few minutes later, the chief said an older lady was here to report a missing person, which would be Sarah Parker.
Send her into my office, please He said that he was not sure how she would take the news of her family member passing, but this came with the job description, and he never really liked doing this part of his job. Mrs. Parker was a little old lady with short gray hair and small glasses around her eyes in her mid-sixties.
"Hi, Mrs Parker is it right? My name is Detective Blackwood I hear you filing a missing persons report Is that right? "asked Mr. Blackwood.
"Yes, her name is Sarah Parker. She is 26 years old and never came for this morning tea session," she said as she was shaking nervously.
"I am sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, but your granddaughter was found dead in her apartment last night at midnight, he said as he was handing her a tissue for her tears.
"Who would want to hurt my sweet Sarah? "she asked while trying not to cry.
"I was hoping you could tell me if there was anyone at all who wanted her dead or even wished her harm," asked Detective Blackwood.
"No, everyone loved Sarah; she was well respected by everyone in this town. She was always trying to find people to help, even if they did not see it coming, she said.
Well, if you ever think of anything that can help us find this person who killed your granddaughter, please call me at this number, "he said.
"Oh,, one more, can you look at a few photos and tell me if there is anything you notice that looks familiar to you he asked with a little smile.
"Sure, it's the least I can do," she said as he laid out the crime scene photos in front of her.
She began to look at the photos, but she nodded as she saw nothing to reach out to her. But then she looked closer and saw the rose lying peacefully in her granddaughter's hands, and then she got pail as if she had seen a ghost.
"Mrs.Parker are you alright?" he asked as he guided her to a seat.
"That rose that was placed in her hands can't be," she said as she was still in shock.
"Have you seen that rose before?" asked Detective Blackwood.
"Only a few people make these roses from a thorn bush, she said, but why did she have to kill her? She did nothing wrong.
"Who is this person you are talking about?" he asked her.
"Her name is Morrigan Bloodrose, and she has her own red rose shop in the middle of the shop, she said.
95Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPBH4rIXlE8
