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Cold.Calculated.Intentional.I tune back into the busy world around me, glancing at the pictures laid out on the table in front of me. The pictures reflected images of a murdered woman, body cut and seemingly crudely resewed.Indifferent.Are these reminders for myself?“Anyway, so then I picked up a couple babes there at this conference, you just wouldn’t believe what we got up to together,” one of the forensic analysts kept going on and on about an obvious lie. No one tried to stop him, however, although other than him, it was just myself and another analyst in the room.“You’re right, I probably couldn’t,” I shot back, earning myself a snort from the other analyst in the room. I felt his eyes on me as I spread out the pictures more on the table, eyes darting from the small details to the big ones. “Mid 30’s, 130 pounds. Looks like a potential solicitor, judging on the botched bleach job and wad of cash you can see shoved in her bra. Maybe a dancer.”“Impressive,” The blood splatter analyst raised an eyebrow. “Masuka, your stories get better and better everyday.”That’s his name. Masuka. I managed to tune him out a bit and missed his name. I don’t even know if he said it.“I’m Morgan. Nice to see a new face around here, and a new voice, new stories, new set of eyes.” Morgan finally introduced himself, after slinking in a few minutes ago during Masuka’s spiel. He placed his bag down on the counter, taking a moment to make sure his desk was re-organized for the day.I just walked in about half an hour ago, my title allowing me to be swept away by this interesting, bald man in a button up short sleeve with what looked like tiny little flowers on it. He had been talking non-stop since I first saw him.“Showing the newbie our new case?” The corner of the red-head’s mouth turned up into what looked like a smirk.Barely.Morgan stared down at the photos. His eyes flickered to me standing next to him. “Don’t think I caught your name.”“You didn’t.” My mouth twitched.Cold.“LAST NAME. I would give you my first name, but you didn’t give me the formality of giving you yours.”“It’s Dexter.” He picked up one of the pictures on the table. It was the close up photograph of the woman’s right hand, the only hand that each individual joint was pulled apart and sewed back together.Calculated.“Or the blood guy. I do the blood spatter analysis, mainly.”“NAME. I do bugs, pollen, bone identification, and weapon identification. These marks are clean. No hesitation. No jagged edges. Moderate bug activity, probably outside about 12 to 16 hours before being discovered.”Interesting that they were sewn together at the joints. I wonder what’s in there. I wonder what’s in the mind of the person behind this. I wonder why.Dexter’s gaze flickered back to me, his eyes glancing over me again.Intentional.
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The new kid was interesting. It’s not often that someone piques Dexter’s interest like that. Almost everyone falls into the same criteria of being the same, predictable.Except this kid is like him.Hiding something, he can feel it. Just by the way their words come out, by the way that they held themselves. Dexter wanted to know more.Dexter needed to know more.
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I held the cigarette up to my lips,struggling for a split second with the lighter. Drawing back, the cigarette finally lights, the end of the day tasted sweet and satisfying. The sky was a dark blue, with only a hue of pink to the west, a few clouds here and there, but overall a clear sky. I leaned against my car. The ‘99 Subaru Impreza WRX STI shifted under my weight. The car that has been through it the past couple moves with me was still holding strong.My mind shifts to Dexter, the red-headed analyst from the lab. Something felt familiar about him. The way he held himself. The way he spoke. The way that he guarded himself, only showing exactly what he thought everyone else wanted to hear. Dexter’s convincing, everyone seemed to believe him. I didn’t blame them. He was charming, handsome. What would he have to lie about?I watch as a car across the parking lot pulls in. The soft rumble of the car shuts off and a figure gets out, grabbing a bag of groceries out of the trunk. I take a long drag of my cigarette, as the figure walks towards the apartment buildings. I finally was able to see who it was when they walked through the light, the soft light bouncing off the familiar reddish hair.Dexter?I chuckled. It was him. The small time spent with him today led to me picking up on a few unique mannerisms. The slight glances over his shoulder was one of them. Almost like he was watching for something or for someone.I needed to know more. I needed to really figure out what makes him tick.I watched as he walked up to his apartment, unlocking the door and heading inside. The lights flicked on and the door closed. I presume the door was locked, with a chain because he seems like that guy. Safe but not too much. I toss my cigarette butt to the side.I will figure it out. I will chisel a small hole into those walls built around him. I want to see what’s inside.
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It was the night of the full moon. The pale light illuminated my steering wheel as I drove away from Miami. It was the night of a kill. The routine I’ve done so many times.The body was wrapped in the trunk. Wrapped in a tarp, bound together by duct tape. The lucky chosen one was an older man. A man that spewed plenty of homophobic remarks to me at the bar. And one who still decided to grab my ass. I spent a week following him, discovering his routine, seeing what else he was. He was a fucking pervert, pictures of young boys were littered across his house, carefully hidden just for him.He was the perfect choice. The perfect choice of fucking scum to scrape from this pathetic excuse of an earth.I finally reached my destination, about 45 minutes out of Miami. It was better than the two hours before, an easy drive in comparison. The property was down a winding, gravel driveway, shielded with trees. The area was dark, the house was quiet. I got out of the car, taking a second to breathe and take in the silence. The sound of the crickets and chirping were soothing. The past two weeks were the first two weeks at my new position. My new city, my new apartment. I had spent the last two weeks working on the case of “The Surgeon.” It was an interesting case, although the most excitement was during my first day in the lab. The lab was nice. It was refreshing to be in such a nice lab. Masuka and Dexter saw me for my skills as an analyst and talked to me like their equal.Not that this was a problem where I last was though. Everyone there didn’t know or didn’t care. I mostly get misgendered in general anyway, I get clocked as a he/him when I am a they/them. I couldn’t be bothered.And this man in my trunk was my first kill around here.I popped my trunk and grabbed the body, hoisting it over my shoulder as I closed and locked the car. I walk around the house, towards the building in the back. The keys fumbled in my hand as I started unlocking the door. It was padlocked and deadbolted, twice. Finally, I get it open, flipping the switches inside.The faint hum of electricity bolts on, as the lights begin to flicker on. There were two rows of long, steel boxes. Each row had four of these boxes and they were about seven feet long and roughly three feet across. The room had an echo of a slight buzzing and clicking. On the opposite end of the door, there was a long, metal table, where I placed the body. On the wall hung a few black aprons, there were a few boxes of gloves, and various sharp instruments. I slipped an apron over my head, tying it in a bow behind my back. I pulled on the gloves and opened a drawer, grabbing a pair of shoe covers. I grab one of the knives from the wall and walk back over to the tarped body.Carefully, I draw the knife down the tarp longways, cutting through, careful not to nick the body. His pale, disgusting face came to light. His neck was red from being strangled with a wire. I shift the tarp out from under him, tossing it to the side. I begin cutting off the items he’s wearing, removing his jewelry from his neck and his fingers.I turn around to a door behind me, opening it with my gloved hands. I flick the light on and the pale yellow light fills the room. There’s a small crematorium and some odds and ends, along with a giant stretcher. I roll the stretcher out of the small room and next to the table. I move the body over to the stretcher, pulling the clothes out from under it. I carefully roll the stretcher next to one of the giant steel boxes. I unlatch the latches on the side, flipping open the lid.When the lid flipped open, the buzzing and clicking grew even louder. Inside the box there were thousands of dermestid beetles and soil, beetles that would eventually eat the decaying flesh off of the corpse beside me. I transfer the body into the box, pressing it down into the soft soil and hissing beetles. The beetles begin to crawl over the body, over the skin, over the face.A soft smile graces my lips as I flip the lid closed.My mind flips to Dexter again.Something feels so familiar with him.