‘I don’t care if he knows we’re here, I just want to get this done. It’s a job to me and the sooner I get this done the sooner I can move on to the next one. After all, they just aren’t getting it. They don’t understand what I am, what I’ll become. I’m leaving my calling card to the true followers- the people that need me in their lives. I save them.’ A quick snap as a bone is broken. ‘I want to go further, leave my mark higher, but I can’t yet. I haven’t found the right one yet. It needs to be big. I want all eyes on me and only on me! I want the world to know that I set this all into motion.’
“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
The quote was written above the body in a pasty black that was clearly spray paint. It made the red drops clinging to it stand out. The man’s death hadn’t been pretty, nor had it been quick. The man, the late state judge Christian Whither, was currently splayed on display in his plush corner office, head missing and chest cavity open. Inside it was the body of a small bird, a dove, a dead give away that the judge had been the latest victim in a string of murders that had come to the FBI’s attention after the second body, another judge, had been found. Beside Mr. Whither was a young girl, early teens, and seemed almost untouched except for blood covering her hands and face.
Four, now six, bodies in six weeks. Each had been a prominent member of the community, starting from a up and coming musician to two judges. Each body was found where they worked and had been carved open with a sparrow left inside. Some quote about death or rebirth painted above them in a gaudy black spray paint, and there was no sign of struggle. An unknown substance had been ingested hours before death of the last two, but the lab was still working on breaking it down.
“It’s from Romeo and Juliet.” Beverly Katz spoke softly, running a gloved hand over a section of the dried paint.
“Another quote about death. Seems a little cliche.” Brian Zeller spoke, grunting slightly when he bent down to look under a table for clues. “It matches with the others. Quote, crime scene, even the target. High profile. Kid’s new. Normally only have one body per scene.”
“Won’t know what that means until we get them back to the lab.”
The light chatter was cut off when Jack Crawford entered the room. The team cleared out silently and Jack looked behind him with a scowl as he waited for his top profiler to take a look into the mind of another killer.
“I’ll be waiting outside.”
