Page 108 of Unholy Bonds

“Sorry, it’s Detective Patel. I have to answer it,” I whispered with a frown. Early morning calls always carried the stench of death.

“Doctor West. Wagner Park.” I heard the agitation in his voice, the cloud of distress. I jumped from the bed, tiptoeing toward the door.

“I’ll be there ASAP. Homicide?”

“Yes. We have to clear the scene before the reporters get wind of it,” Detective Patel said before he hung up.

I stopped by the door and looked at Ryden. “I have to leave.”

He was already pulling his pants up. “Homicide?”

I nodded as he buttoned his shirt. “Ryden, you need to clean your wounds,” I said. “Come with me.”

“No, I’ll drive you, and then I’ll take care of it. Go,” he said, pushing me gently out of the door.

I went to my room and quickly got ready. When I came downstairs, I could smell the fresh coffee brewing in the pot, and I felt a weird sensation creeping up my stomach, up my heart, until I couldn’t breathe properly. Fear. It was fear.

He looked like he belonged here. Like he had been here for forever.

“Coffee,” he said, handing me the tumbler, his smile so bright and familiar.

For all his darkness, he was a better person than I could ever be.

“Come on, I’ll drive you.”

“I can drive, Ryden. You don’t have to go out of your way to—”

“Get inside.” He opened the door for me. With a sigh, I entered the car.

When we reached Wagner Park, I could already see uniforms everywhere. He parked his car a few feet away from the scene of the crime as I emptied my coffee.

“Thank you, Ryden,” I said, getting out of the car. “Don’t forget your wounds.”

“I won’t, I promise.” He smiled, looking past me. I knew he was curious to know more. I expected him to get out of his car and follow me.

Instead, he drove away, blowing a fucking kiss in my direction, much to the amusement of the uniforms around.

Composing myself and wiping away the smile that threatened to overcome me, I walked towards the crime scene. A uniformed officer pulled up the yellow tape to let me in. Detective Rosario was talking with someone, his face red. Detective Murray and Patel were already covering the dead body as if they didn’t want anyone to see it.

“It’s The Strangler,” Detective Patel said when I finally reached where they were. I stopped in my tracks. “His second kill of the year after Baltimore.”

The detectives moved away to show me the display on the park bench. The woman was sitting, her hands holding onto a white calla lily bouquet. “Why did he go and change his MO now? What a fucking mess,” Detective Murray cursed as I continued to study the woman, noting down every small detail.

She was wearing a red dress and a thick layer of makeup, and she had a red wig on. Dark red lipstick. Nails properly filed and painted a glittering red.

“She looks like she’s waiting for her date,” Detective Patel said, making my heart shudder. “If we didn’t see the bow tied around the victim’s neck, we wouldn’t even have known that this was The Strangler’s victim. Everything is different. Every fucking thing.”

I snapped my gloves on and walked closer to the woman. Scraping her makeup, nail polish, and lipstick, I quickly sealed them in the evidence bag.

“There are no visible injuries. No blunt force trauma. A small needle impression at the base of her neck.”

It was consistent with The Strangler’s MO. He gave them anesthetics. Sometimes, he gave them drugs before he killed them. I untangled the bow and carefully took the letter from around her neck, putting it into another evidence bag before handing it to Detective Murray. “There were abrasions and soft tissue damage along her skin,” I said, poking against her neck. “The hyoid bone is damaged. Everything is consistent with…”

“Strangulation with a garrote,” Detective Rosario, who had finally joined us, said.

I removed her wig using forceps.

“He’s evolving. Fucking evolving,” Detective Rosario said in anger. “He just made it harder for us to find him. He isn’t fucking spiraling. Like you said, it was all a game.”

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