When investigation on the murder of Angel Flowers lead to futile results, the Arizona Department of Public Safety reaches to the FBI for assistance. With not a single thread of evidence and only a mocking message left behind, Oliver is assigned to start a new investigation on what would turn a series of serial murders that would change his life.

Will Oliver find Faline?


2. Case 2


Case Two





The body hanged from the second floor inside balcony, most specifically on the chandelier, and dearie, it wasn't a suicide. I would not allow that. The usual victory smile was on my face as I sat right at the end of the staircase, so that the blood wouldn't touch me. The dripping sound made the experience more perfect, it reminded me of the water dripping from the faucet when someone left it half opened...


This place was perfect; I could come back and buy it when the police found out that the owner was dead. The mint green tea relaxed me as I waited for the police to come and find the dead body hanging, right in front of the door, so that it was the first thing they could see.


I believe that this kill wasn't as successful as the last one. My victim had the time to call 911, yet he couldn't speak, the only thing that they heard was a scream, and then I hanged up. You could say that I killed him pretty fast, yet I was waiting for the sirens to ring once again.


Right before I hanged my fellow friend on the chandelier, I decided that I needed to make sure that nothing that could incriminate me was left, so I hacked into his computer and security home system, deleting all the videos and recordings of the day.


I was going to become the most wanted serial killer.


My last victim deserved to die, and so did this one. There is no need for cheaters in this world, non-recyclers. The world needs to be clean from all the wrong that there is, and it is my job to clean it all.


The sirens where coming and I stood up, drinking up my tea before placing it on the stair. I slowly made my way outside the house through the kitchen door into the forest.


I followed the same routine like last time, taking my time removing all the clothing that didn't belong to me. I picked up my list and scratch my victim. I read the name of the next and started my car. I had to visit another person.




‘Who was that on the phone?’ asked Clint.

            ‘Police. New murder by our pseudo-serial killer.’ I answered

            ‘Guess we ain’t going to ask questions anymore.’

            ‘Nope. We’re going to Arroyo Rojo.’

            ‘That’s just like around the corner.’ said Clint. Indeed, Arroyo Rojo was just around the corner of Arizona’s FBI division, and after a five-minute ride, we parked in front of Jacob Castle’s house. Having it being recent, the “do not cross” police tape surrounded the scene.

            ‘Call the team,’ I said to Clint, ‘TelI Sarah and Ernest to get here. I’ll wait for you inside.’

            ‘Oliver!’ called someone from behind me. His voice was familiar, and when I turned the voice had been Jonathan Brown, a police detective and my partner before I joined the FBI.

            ‘God have mercy on me! How you’ve been, man?’ I asked as I hugged him.

            ‘Was fine until we had to come check this son of a bitch.’

            ‘What happened here?’

            ‘Come, I’ll tell you inside.’ he said.

            The first thing my eyes saw was Castle’s body hanging from the chandelier. Slit throat, two shots to the head –again. Considering other pictures that I was obliged to see in other cases, I was genuinely more surprised of how the chandelier was not yet on the floor.

            ‘911 received a call from Castle’s; a scream and a disturbing guttural noise were all that could be heard. We assume Mr. Jacob had the opportunity before the killer eventually slit his throat. We don’t know if he was shot before or after he was hanged.’ explained Jonathan.

            ‘What about the tea cup?’ I asked as it was probably the only thing that really mattered.

            ‘Green mint this time, I won’t spoil you the message,’ said Jonathan, pointing to the cup in short wooden table, ‘it’s over there. There’s some gloves there, too.’

            I took the cup into my hands and slowly turned it to look inside. There was something about this job that I loved, something that always made me feel alive and burning inside. I never knew how to describe it exactly, but I always explained it as a mixture of boiling blood and cold blood according to the common phrases. As I turned the cup around, a sensation of fear, or perhaps even terror ran through my whole body and simultaneously a feeling of excitement and adrenaline rushed besides the fear, eventually culminating in anger and the disgust. Somehow, it felt as throwing up.


‘Two down :)”


‘Fucking smiley face.’ I muttered, angry and disgusted, almost hurling the cup at the wall in front.

            ‘Easy, buddy,’ said Clint, ‘team’s going to be here in five.’ He turned to Jonathan then and greeted him with a fist bump.

            ‘Have Sarah and Ernest look for any evidence. We might get something if we are lucky.’ I said.

            ‘What about Jenna?’ he asked.

            ‘Tell her to investigate about Jacob Castle. Everything.’

            ‘Roger, coach. And us?’

            ‘We’re going to ask some questions.’ I Oliver with a smile.

            ‘Aw, fuck. Thought we were off the hook from boring shit.’

            I walked towards Jonathan and said: ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, but we got it from here.’ Jonathan chuckled and bumped my fist goodbye.

            ‘You always hated when the FBI took over our cases.’ he replied.

            ‘And I love it now. Let’s go, Clint.’


Clint gave a call to Sarah to let her know we would go ahead to Mrs. Flowers place. Once we reached Deer Valley Road just in front of the FBI, Clint asked where the murder of Mrs. Flowers had been.

            ‘Flossmore, near the park.’

            ‘Holy fu… that’s like half an hour away.’ he complained.

            ‘We just have to the interstate and it will go by fast.’

            ‘Just let me know when we’re there, I’ll take a quick nap.’


Once we took the exit from the interstate, we found ourselves in front of Angela Flowers’ house after a few minutes. It’s perimeter was covered with a short metal fence, which seemed to me to be a complete waste of money considering I could easily jump over it with a minimum effort.

            We walked up to front door and knocked on its wood. A moment later a man opened the door halfway. ‘Yes?’

            ‘Hello. Mr. Flowers, I assume.’ said Clint

            ‘Right.’ he answered.

            ‘We’re from the FBI. My name’s Clint Farren.’ he said, raising his badge. ‘He’s Oliver Green, partner.’

            ‘Does Oliver here happens to have a tongue?’ said Mr. Flowers.

            ‘Sorry, sir,’ I answered, ‘we meant to ask you some questions about your wife, Angela.’

            ‘I’ve answered a lot already.’ he said annoyed.

            ‘To the police, yes. We took over the case as their request and… well, we need to start from square one.’ I explained.

            ‘Just come in then.’ said Mr. Flowers as he unlocked the door for us. ‘Can I offer you anything?’

            ‘Don’t worry, we’ll try to make this quick. We understand it might be hard for you.’

            ‘It is. Do you want me to fetch my son too?’

            ‘We were told your kids were away for college.’ said Clint.

            ‘They were. Chris stayed over for the rest of the term. I’ll call him,’ he said standing up, ‘you sure you don’t want anything?’

            ‘Maybe a glass of water. Thanks, Mr. Flowers.’

            ‘Call me John. What about you, hotshot?’

            ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

            Mr. Flowers came back after a short while with a glass of water; A young man walked behind him and in his face I could notice the lingering sadness of his loss, something Mr. Flowers’ face seemed to lack.

            ‘Hi, I’m Chris.’ he said extending his hand to both of us.

            ‘Hey, Chris. I’m Oliver.’

            ‘I’m Clint. Sorry for your loss.’

            ‘It’s okay.’ said Chris.

            ‘Here’s your water, agent.’ said Mr. Flowers as he handed me the glass.

            ‘Thanks… we just have a couple of questions. First: did someone had any motive to murder Angela?’

            ‘Not that I know of.’ said Chris.

            ‘There’s no one I can think of, honestly.’ said Mr. Flowers.

            ‘Any neighbors, friends?’ asked Clint.

            ‘We didn’t had much friendship with the neighbors. We didn’t have much neighbors for that matter...’ explained Mr. Flowers.

            ‘Mr. Flowers,’ said Oliver abruptly, ‘did your wife had an affair?’

            ‘What? No, of course not.’ said Chris angrily.

            ‘Chris… Honestly, I don’t know for sure. I suspect she did.’

            ‘Dad! Yo-’

            ‘Do you have anyone in mind?’ interrupted Oliver.

            ‘Mark.’ he mumbled.

            ‘Mark who?’

            ‘Ferguson. Mark Ferguson. He works with me at the factory.’

            ‘I see...’ I said. It took me a moment after that to finally speak again. ‘I think that’d be it, Mr. Flowers.’

            ‘That’s it?’ asked Chris and Clint together, although Chris had meant ‘How can THAT be it? I didn’t know my mom had had an affair!’ while for Clint it may had been ‘You’re not suspecting of him? He barely looks sad and he has a motive.’ or ‘Fucking amen.’

            ‘That’s it.’ I repeated.

            Mr. Flowers stood up without asking anything. ‘I’ll show you out then.’

            ‘Thanks for everything.’ I said after Mr. Flowers offered to give him a call shall we need anything else.


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