[fieldbox= Cynthia]The crime scene panned out nothing new about the killer, no unexpected surprises when the body was lifted, nothing at all. It was as the body had simply appeared out of thin air. Cynthia knew that wasn't a possibility, but that was how the killer wanted it, and he was getting better and better at covering his tracks. All she had to go for this victim so far was that he was a white male, approximately six foot tall, with brown hair if the small amount of leg hair peeking out from the cuff of the sweatpants he wore matched the hair on his head. She knew there was something distinguishable about his arms, but exactly what she could not say. It could be anything from tattoo sleeves, to a missing finger. They could get lucky on a DNA match, but the killer wasn't that stupid. Whoever these victims were, they were either law abiding citizens, or they simply hadn't gotten caught yet. Either way, she was screwed. Identifying the three nameless bodies was the only way she'd be able to find the killer, and they were certainly making sure she hit ever roadblock on the way.
After the medical examiner left, Cynthia went over the evidence collected with the forensics team, who agreed with her assessment that none of what was gathered would lead to any suspects. "Half this stuff's been sitting here for months, probably years. You might find a couple outstanding warrants, but I doubt you'll find your killer." Timothy Roth, lead investigator of the CSI unit admitted when Cynthia questioned him about their findings. No, their guy was improving from being fairly good from the start, now it seemed like he was a perfectionist at keeping his identity, and that of his victims a secret. The detective felt like she was running into the same brick wall repeatedly, and sadly had yet to put even a small dent in it. She was out of luck, and if she didn't catch a break soon the commissioner would end up tossing the case to the FBI. Cynthia may not have minded it, but for her this was now personal. Never had she come across a criminal that could evade her the way this killer had, and she was determined to find out who they were and make sure they were locked away for good. She certainly couldn't do that if the FBI took the case.
Even though CSI had taken pictures of the scene, Cynthia decided to take some of her own, focusing mostly where the body had laid for the past twenty four hours, and on the image painted on the wall. The three crime scenes had all been different, each one becoming progressively sloppier and harder to sift through. The first had been an alley, cluttered with trash and a small group of homeless men who had scuffled over who had rights to the large dumpster beside where the body was found. The three men had contaminated the crime scene before the murder could be called in, but even if they hadn't, there wasn't anything to be found other than the body itself. No fingerprints or footprints. No blood from the suspect. Nothing at all but a teenage boy who should have been worrying about college, not laying on a slab in the morgue.
The second victim, an Asian female who was about five foot three inches tall, and approximately 50-65 years in age had been found in another deserted building, this one more recently abandoned and not quite as ravaged by time and drug addicts. Like the first victim, her teeth had been removed and her face beaten beyond recognition. The difference this time was that the killer had not bothered burning the woman's fingerprints off; he had simply chopped off her hands. All three victims had any distinguishable marks removed, a one foot section of skin sliced off so that they could not tell what it was, and where exactly it had been. The possibilities were endless, and it made sifting through missing persons reports even more difficult.
Sighing softly, the detective left the crime scene, letting the forensics team finish up what they were doing and the cleanup crew to come along afterwards to erase what evidence they did not want to be left behind. Cynthia certainly wasn't thrilled with how her day was going, and little did she know that it was about to get worse.
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The Miami-Dade MCU was stationed inside a six story building, the sleek, modern design making it look more like a work of art than a police station. The MCU was located on the fourth floor, right between the forensics labs and a multi-unit floor with Homicide, Robbery, and a small task force with the Narcotics unit worked. Unlike their counterparts, Major Crimes had their own floor, each detective assigned an office. Currently, Cynthia was the only detective in the unit that did not have a partner, and had requested that it remain that way. Unfortunately for her, her single status was about to be revoked.
It was a little after seven o'clock when Cynthia exited the elevator and entered her unit, a manila folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She had been up since three thirty that morning when she was called in, and it didn't look like she'd be seeing her apartment or her bed anytime soon. She had even less to go on with this victim than the previous two, and she was forced to wait to hear from the ME to get enough to even begin searching the database. It was the start of an extremely long day, and to her dismay it was about to get even longer.
"Matthers, is that you?" Boomed the deep and stern voice of her captain, Richard 'Rich' Holsted, a twenty five year veteran of the force, and CO of the MCU for the past ten. Unlike most captain Holsted was not the nurturing mentor that was often portrayed on TV. He was a small man, only an inch taller than Cynthia herself, and probably outweighing her only by ten pounds. His face was pinched in a constant grimace, as if he'd been sucking on lemons his entire life. There was no nurturing from her captain, no 'We'll get 'em!' peptalks of encouragement. It was 'Do your job and get the criminal put away'; no questions, no arguments, no debates. He didn't deal with bullshit, not from anyone.
Shoulders jerking up in a cringe beneath the light blue sweater she wore, Cynthia debated ignoring the man and pretending she was too engrossed in the folder in her hand to notice him. It might get her a few steps away, but she knew Holsted would simply chase her down. "Yes, sir." She replied quickly, her feet moving toward the doorway to peer in at the man who sat tensely behind his desk. He nodded his head to one of the chairs in front of his large oak desk, and she knew that she was in trouble. She was never called into the captain's office, not unless he was asking her for a report, and usually he would let her get to her office first. No, he was about to unleash something on her; the problem was, she wasn't certain what. She had three cases all linked to the same killer now, and was unable to make progress on any of them. The fact that none of the victims had been identified was the biggest issue, but not something that was under Cynthia's control. "Have a seat, Matthers. I have some news for you."
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she crossed the office and took up one of the chairs. "Look captain, if this is about the serial, I'm trying. So far Missing Persons…."
"That's not why you're in here Matthers. I'm well aware of the situation. I'm also aware that this case is too much for a single detective to handle on their own. That's why you've been assigned a partner. He'll be coming in a few minutes. I want you to go get your files and bring them in here to brief him on the case." The captain looked pointedly over at her, staring at her as if he was waiting for her to argue with him. Cynthia wanted to. Every nerve in her body was stretched thin, her stomach now churning chaotically as she prepared to reject the suggestion. She wasn't an idiot though. She knew that she needed help, and while she didn't like it, she would be an idiot to turn down the idea. "For this case only?" She asked hopefully, willing to give having a partner a shot if it meant she could go solo once this case was solved. The man across the desk snickered humorlessly, shaking his head. "No. From this point on you're part of a team, Matthers. I suggest you get used to the idea. I've got the commissioner and the mayor breathing on my neck about this case. Two months, three bodies, and we can't even ID the vics! You're a smart girl. Your ass wouldn't be in that chair right now if you weren't, but you're not making any progress trying to do everything on your own."
Lips puffing out in a slight pout, she felt the urge to argue against having a partner return, but wisely kept her mouth shut and her ears open. For now she would deal with having a partner, but once the case was closed and the killer was caught she would be putting her foot down. With a soft sigh of resignation Cynthia climbed to her feet, bowing her head down respectfully to the man across the desk. "If that's it captain, I'll go get my files together now. Should I…."
"No. I'll be bringing him by your office, then I want you two to head down to autopsy. The ME has some information for you." He waved her off dismissively, the meeting short, sweet, and to the point, but certainly not anything that Cynthia wanted to hear. She was dismissed, left to go gather up her mountains of paperwork on a killer and victims she knew very little about to brief someone who would assume she was incompetent. No, today was not going her way at all, and Cynthia could only hope that the ME had something of value that may actually prove useful.[/fieldbox]