today.”
Steve sighed. Civilians. “What about the bodies?”
The speed at which all the blood drained out of the rookie’s face told Steve everything he needed to know. He was tempted to give the guy an out and ask the medical examiner, but he knew there wasn’t any point. He was a cop, and this stuff happened.
“Not good?”
“The ME said something about… ritual killings. They have pictures. I think they have most of the pieces picked up.”
Russell felt his own stomach lurch. ‘Pieces’ was a very bad word.
Unfortunately it was his job to find out who, which meant he needed to know how. He’d probably find out why, too, and he had a feeling it would haunt his dreams for a long time.
The apartment door opened into a small foyer then opened up into a kitchen, and on the other side of that was the living room. There were, if the floorplan of this place was the same as the other apartments in the complex, three bedrooms past that. The living room was where most of the people were.
The smell hit him as he walked in. It smelled like blood and shit and vomit, with a tinge of something that must’ve been fear. He recognized the MEs and the other officers in the room. They were all veterans. With nine years of experience, he was likely the newest guy in the room. The looks of shock on their faces didn’t make him feel at all good.
He looked around the room as he got in. It was a standard room, cream colored walls, a light beige carpet, white trim, white curtains over a sliding glass door that would’ve looked out into the trees bordering the complex. There was a TV in one end of the room, a tan sectional couch.
Everything in the room was splattered with blood.
The bright red in the carpets showed where the bodies had been, so much blood the carpet was still soaked despite the time. Three blobs, a large one in the center and two smaller ones slightly offset. There was a ragged red circle around the puddles, maybe six feet in diameter. And everywhere there were splatters of blood.
“Jesus,” Steve whispered. “What happened?”
“You missed the good bits, Detective,” said one of the people in the room. He was wearing a Medical Examiner’s jacket and the only person not looking ill.
“What were the good bits?” He didn’t want the answer to that question, but it didn’t stop him from asking.
“The three were killed in what looks like a ritual of some sort. The bodies were laid out, their throats about in the centers of the… puddles. The mother was in the center, the boy on the right, the girl on the left. They were both prepubescent, probably nine or ten. We’ll know more when we get some of the family details. Their throats had been cut. Enthusiastically but not expertly, the cuts weren’t clean.”
“The killer drew the circle around them with their own blood?”
“Oh, no, Detective,” the man said with a cheery grin. “The circle’s from their intestines. Three times around, once from each of them from what we can see.”
Steve was feeling a little faint.
“It gets better,” The ME said. His grin was nearly manic, as he clearly enjoyed Steve’s discomfort. “The kids were missing their eyes. Mmmm, tasty!”
Steve shuddered. “Sick bastard. You’ve got pictures and diagrams and stuff like that?”
“Yeah, we’ve got the works. Cause of death’s pretty straightforward. The bodies have been taken out for a workup – some of the splatter patterns look typical for severed major arteries, but there’s no sign of struggle or thrashing, nor of restraint, so we’re assuming they were drugged when they were killed. Tox screens may tell us what. There’s no evidence on the bodies of struggle, but they were pretty badly mutilated
Steve sighed. Civilians. “What about the bodies?”
The speed at which all the blood drained out of the rookie’s face told Steve everything he needed to know. He was tempted to give the guy an out and ask the medical examiner, but he knew there wasn’t any point. He was a cop, and this stuff happened.
“Not good?”
“The ME said something about… ritual killings. They have pictures. I think they have most of the pieces picked up.”
Russell felt his own stomach lurch. ‘Pieces’ was a very bad word.
Unfortunately it was his job to find out who, which meant he needed to know how. He’d probably find out why, too, and he had a feeling it would haunt his dreams for a long time.
The apartment door opened into a small foyer then opened up into a kitchen, and on the other side of that was the living room. There were, if the floorplan of this place was the same as the other apartments in the complex, three bedrooms past that. The living room was where most of the people were.
The smell hit him as he walked in. It smelled like blood and shit and vomit, with a tinge of something that must’ve been fear. He recognized the MEs and the other officers in the room. They were all veterans. With nine years of experience, he was likely the newest guy in the room. The looks of shock on their faces didn’t make him feel at all good.
He looked around the room as he got in. It was a standard room, cream colored walls, a light beige carpet, white trim, white curtains over a sliding glass door that would’ve looked out into the trees bordering the complex. There was a TV in one end of the room, a tan sectional couch.
Everything in the room was splattered with blood.
The bright red in the carpets showed where the bodies had been, so much blood the carpet was still soaked despite the time. Three blobs, a large one in the center and two smaller ones slightly offset. There was a ragged red circle around the puddles, maybe six feet in diameter. And everywhere there were splatters of blood.
“Jesus,” Steve whispered. “What happened?”
“You missed the good bits, Detective,” said one of the people in the room. He was wearing a Medical Examiner’s jacket and the only person not looking ill.
“What were the good bits?” He didn’t want the answer to that question, but it didn’t stop him from asking.
“The three were killed in what looks like a ritual of some sort. The bodies were laid out, their throats about in the centers of the… puddles. The mother was in the center, the boy on the right, the girl on the left. They were both prepubescent, probably nine or ten. We’ll know more when we get some of the family details. Their throats had been cut. Enthusiastically but not expertly, the cuts weren’t clean.”
“The killer drew the circle around them with their own blood?”
“Oh, no, Detective,” the man said with a cheery grin. “The circle’s from their intestines. Three times around, once from each of them from what we can see.”
Steve was feeling a little faint.
“It gets better,” The ME said. His grin was nearly manic, as he clearly enjoyed Steve’s discomfort. “The kids were missing their eyes. Mmmm, tasty!”
Steve shuddered. “Sick bastard. You’ve got pictures and diagrams and stuff like that?”
“Yeah, we’ve got the works. Cause of death’s pretty straightforward. The bodies have been taken out for a workup – some of the splatter patterns look typical for severed major arteries, but there’s no sign of struggle or thrashing, nor of restraint, so we’re assuming they were drugged when they were killed. Tox screens may tell us what. There’s no evidence on the bodies of struggle, but they were pretty badly mutilated
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