Stepping into the squad room, Joe sees some officers typing reports, while others are staring at a computer screen. The third group is busily shuffling people around. There's never a dull moment in this place. He plops his stuff on his desk. Yawning, he continues to survey the assortment of desks squeezed into the small, overcrowded room. We really need a bigger space. Yawning again, he turns towards the coffee pot. If that crap can't revive me, nothing will.

"Morning Captain." He reaches for the pot.

"Morning, Detective. The forensic reports from Frank and Bernie's murders are on your desk. It looks like the signature is the same, thirty-three stab wounds to the chest."

"What about the rest of the evidence?" Joe asks, walking towards his desk.

Throwing empty sugar packs in the trash; the captain follows. "The blood and fingerprints are from the victims. They're working on the rest now."

 Joe quickly scans the report.

"I'll leave you alone so you can work your magic." The captain pats Joe on the back.

"I'm going to need a lot of that to solve this case, Captain," he says, picking up the second page. He's still reading the information when Jerry walks through the door.

"Is that the report on Frank?" he asks, shedding his coat.

"Yeah, but it doesn't give us any leads. I don't understand how someone can commit such heinous crimes and not leave a single piece of evidence behind. That's just impossible. "Joe slams his fist on the desk. Papers scatter across the floor.

"Don't worry boss, we'll figure this out."  A snarling dog runs to the front of Jerry's computer screen when he bumps the mouse. Screaming, he jumps back. Losing his footing, Jerry falls into his chair. His leg hits the lever, his seat drops to the floor. The dog retires to his original spot in the center of the page. "Damn screensaver," Jerry grumbles.

"That was better than I imagined." Joe laughs.

"I'll get even with you, Joe."

"I'm sure you will." Mocking Jerry's girly scream, Joe laughs harder.

***

This part of town scares her. It was where she spent most of her childhood, but even then danger lurked around every corner. Now it's a place where criminals hide from the law and the cops are too afraid of the drug cartel to do anything about it. It's a place where no one dares walk the streets at night and walks guardedly in the daylight hours.

Everyone knows this cesspool exists, but turns a blind eye to it. She figures prominent citizens would rather have criminals stay in this grungy part of town than in their lavished neighborhoods.

She steps over the heaps of trash scattered across the sidewalk; then cautiously continues on. The wind picks up giving the morning air a crisp feel. She shivers. Wrapping her arms around herself, she quickens her pace. She feels a strong hand cover her mouth as she's being pulled backward. She tries to scream but the large, firm hand muffles her every sound.

"Keep fighting me and I'll cut you right here and now," a deep voice informs her. He brings a knife up to her neck.

She stops fighting.

"That's much better," he says, dragging her towards the building.

Seeing he's distracted, she tries to break free.

"I'm not warning you again," he says, securing the weapon against her neck.

She stops moving around. Warm tears stream down her wind-chapped face as he drags her into the building. Closing the door with his foot, he hauls her to the faded mattress on the far side of the room. 

"Are you as good as you used to be, Rachel?" he asks, slamming her body on the bed.

"I'm not Rachel," she screams, trying to push him away.

He pins her arms with his knees. "Change names, did you? I guess Rachel isn't good enough for you now you're high society. I hope you're still as good in bed as you used to be," he replies, feeling her up.

"Please don't do this," she tearfully begs. Childhood memories start flooding back. Hot salty tears stream from her hazel eyes.

"Shut up and take it, whore," he yells, slapping her across the face. Rising to his knees, he pulls down his pants.

Realizing her arms are free, she reaches towards her pocket.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks.

Lifting up her knife, she stabs him in his chest. The sudden force sends him flying onto the dusty wood floor. Straddling him, she pulls the weapon out.

"You're never going to hurt me again," she screams, plunging the knife into his chest. "And I'm not a whore," she yells, thrusting the object into his heart.

Hearing someone coming up the steps, she pulls out the knife and then takes an opposing stance. I'm ready for you now. She pictures a gang of burly men walking through the door. I can't take all of them on. Frightened, she darts through the house. Discovering the doors and windows are boarded up, she looks for a place to hide.

***
Joe and Jerry are sitting at their desks, trying to make sense of the recent crimes. The chaos around them is giving Joe a migraine. I wish we had our own work area, he thinks, trying to ignore the commotion. 

"I've summarized all the facts hoping that might help." Gathering up several sheets of paper, Jerry continues, "We have four stab victims. Three took place in a public area and one at home. He killed two in the morning and two in the afternoon. The first stabbing occurred in Urbanette; the next two in town, and the last one in Eureka Springs. All four are married, they're in their mid 40's, and have been in Berryville for at least 15 years. They're all in the six-foot range and have brown hair, brown eyes. Max is the DA; Frank and Bernie work at Tyson and Lenny in accounting. I know both Frank and Bernie use to beat their wives so I'm thinking the killer is trying to stop them. Maybe his dad beat his mom, possibly killed her, and her death is what sent him over the edge."

"Well, that's one theory, but according to Rachel, Max treats Bonnie like a queen. I'm not too sure about this Lenny character. Tell you what, I'll look into his and Max's relationships just in case."

"Ok, how about this theory, Boss? Since the killer targets men in their forties, he could've been abused by a man who's that age?"

"That's possible. Look up murders where domestic violence is involved and then narrow that down to only men in their forties."

"I'm on it boss." Jerry snickers.

"What?" Joe nervously looks around.

"Nothing, Boss." Jerry snickers again.

***

She's still searching for a hiding place when the front door squeaks open.

"Hey, Carlos are you home?" Jimmy asks, stepping in the door. He sees his friend lying motionless beside the bed. "Oh my God, no." His anguish quickly turns to rage. "I'm going to find and kill whoever did this," he yells, storming through the house.

Her entire body is trembling with fear as she slides under the bed. Please don't let them find me, oh, please don't let them find me, she begs. Hearing the doorknob turn, she takes a deep breath and holds it. Boots clump towards her as she lay frozen on the cold, dusty floor.

Rushing over, Jimmy searches the closet. "Not in here." Turning, he walks toward the door.

She starts feeling dizzy, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. It's almost over, she thinks, trying to hold on a little longer. Dust particles tickle her nose when he walks by. Not now, she begs. Too frightened to move, she wiggles her nose, hoping to relieve the sensation. Her eyes start watering trying to keep it contained. A few more seconds, she coaxes, watching him step into the hall. The urge becomes so strong that she can't hold it back any longer.

"I know you're in here somewhere," he yells, searching the room again.

She sneezes a second time.

Jimmy checks under the bed. "There you are." Grabbing her short brown hair, he pulls her out.

Reaching up, she swipes the blade across his arm. Blood gushes from his extremity.

"You bitch," he screams, grabbing a hold of his arm.

She runs towards the hall.

"I don't think so." Running across the room, he shuts the door.

"You better let me go," she warns, swinging the weapon around.

"You don't scare me." 

"I'll kill you like I did your friend, I swear I will," she hisses, lunging towards him.

Grabbing her wrist, he tries shaking the weapon out of her hand.

Bringing up her knee, she lodges it into his groin.

"You bitch," he screams, doubling over in pain. Grabbing his head, she slams his face into her knee and then shoves him to the floor. Turning, she darts towards the door.

Grabbing a hold of her ankle, he pulls her to the floor.

Her hand flies open causing the knife to spiral across the room.