Prolog

Life. Death. What exactly is in a person to make them feel the need to exterminate a life with their own hands? Does it take abusive parents or a troubled childhood? A chemical imbalance in the brain? No one really knows for sure. It takes all kinds.

Psychologists have tried their best to pinpoint all the reasons why killers do what they do. Anger, rage, black outs, they all add up on some cases. But not this one. Young women are the target of so many horrible things in this world. Abusive bastard boyfriends, stalkers, envious other women. The killer could come down to the man who was working the cash register at CVS the night that the young woman stopped in to buy tampons and he didn’t like the artwork on the box of the brand she bought. You just never know with society today.

What I do know is that another beautiful, young, California girl was dead. I stare down at the case file every night. I have her face memorized. Her blue eyes seem as deep as the ocean. And her smile would make anyone melt. Why would anyone want to kill what seemed to me as a gentle young woman?

Chapter 1

I Threw my cigarette to the ground, putting it out with the bottom of my shoe, “What do we have here boys?”

A tall blonde cop answered me. I knew him; his name was Chad Markins, “Hey Davies. 24 year old, Caucasian female.”

“How’d she die?” I slipped on a pair of latex rubber gloves.

“She’s been beaten, stabbed, and strangled.”

I crouched down to examine the body. Her blue eyes stared back at me, “Do we have an i.d. yet?”

“Uh, yeah. Miss Spencer Carlin. She’s been missing since last Tuesday.”

“A week.” I picked up her hand, it was cut. A defense wound. She had various bruises on her arms. There was bruising around her neck from the rope that was still tied around it. Whoever killed her took too much pleasure in causing her pain, “Alright, get any prints that you can off of her. Then let’s bag her and get her in for an autopsy.” I pulled my gloves off and then headed back to my car.