SCHOOLGIRLS
— Shit, are 3
o'clock in the morning and not being able to sleep—
whisper,
lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
After a
while, I feel, grabbed the cigarettes of the light table and turn one. I look
at the time. If I could stop time, I think.
I think if I was assigned. This is really
screwed up: schoolgirls from different ages, religions, shapes and race. Points
are not in common. However, something I am struck: the places where we found
the bodies. And also the form in which they were killed. Brutal, animal.
Appeared
torn, all with various mutilations.
The only clue, if you can call it that, is
a coincidence that I found in the forensic report. Since the first victim, of 4
months ago; to the last, discovered 3 days ago, there are time differences of
15 minutes.
One blast deep and I get to the filter. I
get up and grab the report. I light another cigarette with tailpiece above. I
know my memory memory what it says there.
The killer acts every 3 weeks, and
according to my calculations the next attack will be 29 this month, April. I
left just seven days and even occurs to me in which College will unleash its
fury.
Just
thinking about it, my chest hurts. The case is going crazy
Walking from one side to another, I turn
the third cigarette. I feel like a caged animal, rub me head, and while taking
a breath of smoke, it sounds the cellular.
— Hello— I murmured, leaving to escape the smoke
from my mouth.
— They found another body, Garcia— said Perez, a
companion of many years, and added— It is on 9 July and Pueyrredon, behind a
pizzeria. The son of a bitch is advancement to your own calendar.
—Are you sure that it is of the same subject?— I
ask, eyes nailed in the report. Being wary.
— We have no doubt— follow Perez, giving me the
impression of a type to whom luck gave the first lottery prize— the victim is a
student and brings the same pattern of injury and mutilation.
— OK, Perez. He hopes that I go out there.
In 15 minutes I am.
— How many doubts, fuck— whisper feeling
deep inside me, that the victim is not what you expect it to be, cannot be the
same killer. Maybe it's just my wish, I would that it were not so, so I would
give more time to follow the track to the son of a bitch.
While I upload to the car, I think of what
was said by Perez, and if he is right that the son of a bitch went ahead, by
God, if so, fuck you with the few tracks that I had.
—What attracted you to come on, son of a
bitch?— I say to myself— Surely after several "jobs", you feel more
confident, I just hope that this time you've trusted more, and let some
miserable track
I speed up, taking with me the last
homicide record.
Reaching the alley, I find the picture
always, many patrols and a truck of the channel 26.
Me approach to perimeter line, I show the
plate and me receives the official Pérez, who spoke with another officer. One
that had not been in my life.
— Good, Garcia— Perez tells me in a tone of
mockery—What face! He is the official Red, they moved the sectional 4th for a
day or two.
At this time am Perez you note the 50 years
and twenties service. It is no longer the same that I met when I joined the
force. Light post Street, in addition to blenders of patrols, accentuates her
gray hair, tanned skin, dark circles. But there was something unalterable, your
mood for anything funny, in my opinion at least.
— Good morning, officer Garcia— said the
such Red— Perez told me of the case, and told me that you were in charge of the
investigation.
Rojas, a boy of about 35 years, medium
stature, sunglasses, combed to the side. Rookie air. It was the idea of wanting
to fall well everyone, what they call a "bootlicker".
— Good— answer them, with very
unwillingly—What do we have?— and I shake my lighter, intending to ignite my
fourth cigarette.
While Perez and his partner, teach me the
place where the body was found, my eyes observe the environment: streets,
sidewalks and parked cars. And, above all, anyone in suspicious attitude
— Young— I tells Perez, while I duck to
closely observe the body, trying to find similarity with other victims— about
18 years. He was apparently returning from school. With signs of wound with a
sharp object, mutilation in several parts.
—Who found it?— I say lifting the look,
seeing how Perez points out of the alley
— Some boys were— Red, the head pointing at
four young punk, painted hair and piercing everywhere, gets an urban tribe—safe
to that they were going partying.
— With those things in metal painted hairs
and skin, they seem ill— Whispers Perez, at the same time, which regarded them
with contempt— I get sick, cursed drug addicts.
—They interrogated them?— I say as I take
my log book, looking for a few seconds to Pérez.
—yes— keeps telling me Perez, reading his
own book— They said that only passed by here and saw something strange. They
approached and noticed the legs of a person, protruding from the dumpster. It
seems that a couple of them were stiff from the fright, a third vomited up what
you ate last week and the fourth call 911— He closed his notebook, he put it
under his arm to light a cigarette. And he returned to open it— The rest is
what you see. Currently, it is becoming the coroner. They will take the body to
the morgue for autopsy.
—ok, ok— I tell you, while I check the
scene from the fact— I don't find anything concerning the case we follow. I
don't know, something does not fit.
The alley: certificate of rats, garbage and
apparently place chosen by some drug addicts, since there are some syringes
thrown in several places.
I looked at the container, where it
protruded the body, to its around garbage has not even had gathered, it was
evident that it had recently had left him there. In addition, it was
practically empty, except gift left by the murderer. A detail: the phone number
of the company
— Please contact this Lumber— I said,
pointing at it—
Find out what time left it. They must know,
according to the route of the trucks that brought them and leads them. Also ask
the neighbors if they saw anything suspicious.
And I was standing watching both the
container as a victim.
This body,
as the victims found earlier, presented mutilations. This time what was missing
was an ear: right ear more precisely. Up there you could say that it was
consistent with the others. The killer wore is a part of each. A finger, an
eye, anywhere. It must be your fetish, I thought.
— Shit— I susurré, realizing that there was
something different—What is I happened by high? Why was this time used a
container? Other victims only the "fit" on the ground, in a
particular place. This alley fit well, but the container...— I looked at Perez
and added in a loud voice— That you take to look for fingerprints, fibers,
anything that we can serve. Though as it is very clean, perhaps without
meaning.
—Something, Garcia about you? —I said
Perez, while still scoring in your book — when you have that look, something
you bring between hands. Come, say it for.
— Nothing, is only is a feeling. Nothing important—
you say thoughtful— And if this is not the victim who we believe that it is?
—What shit are you saying, Garcia?— Bark
Perez— What we find here complies with all that the killer showed us so far:
body, mutilations, place where can move it easily. But you always go out with
your "shit". You always have to define something, hell— it pulled the
book to the ground, with the dislocated and completely red face.
Go to shit, Perez, say between my.
I rather not
close with this body— whisper, as I turn on my fifth cigarette—We are going to
see that he has to tell me the forensic— I say, leaving the crime scene,
heading towards the car....
CONTINUED
