The only group of people in this world who put their art of insanity on display for all to see are the killers. And the people don't see it's beauty, it's disgust all on a canvas of flesh. They always clean it up, painting over the work only for theirs to be buried 6 ft underground...

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Every couple of steps, I can hear the faint crunch of the crisp, fallen leaves as I walk through the forest to the growing crowd. So much for keeping this private. I quietly and kindly shove my way through the reporters with their flashing cameras and their endless questions. None of them look twice in my direction. They’re too focused on the body before me.

Oh.

Not one.

Two.

Confused, I walk closer to the yellow caution tape, only to be stopped by what appears to be a bored police officer who looks to be in their mid thirties. His dull, blue eyes were drooping from what appears to be lack of sleep. His balding head reflects the sinking sun behind me as I size him up.

“Please ma’am, you can’t go beyond this point. Just like the other reporters, I’m going to have to ask you to step back.” He mutters with anything besides a stifled yawn. I casually roll my eyes and flash him my badge as I briskly walk past, not missing the creeping burn of embarrassment on his face as he masks it with a grunt, not saying anything further.

I scoff to myself. Amature, I think as I step underneath the bright yellow tape, the only bright thing amidst this somber sight before me. As I'm inspecting the bodies, I hear a voice coming closer and I turn to look.

"Alright, alright move- Oh! hello there, you must be Detective Grayson," The stranger sticks out her hand. "I'm Percy." She bestows a proud, smug look on her face as if she's a celebrity I'm supposed to fawn over. She looks at me for a moment as she realizes I'm not begging for an autograph. She clears her throat. "I'm Percy, from 'Cook and Sons'." I shake my head and give her a glare as I size her up.

She's a tall, petite Black woman with braids tied up into a bun. I must say, the only thing keeping me from fully cutting her off would be her eyes. They look almost like mine-

"Hello?" I blink back to the present only to find the woman, Percy, snapping her fingers in my face.

I grit my teeth.

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"What is Percy? I have things to do!" I say as I cross my arms.

Percy smirks. "Like staring off into space? Checking me out maybe?"

I give her the coldest look and my voice goes steely. "Let's keep this appropriate and professional, yes? And if you wouldn't mind, explain to me why you're here."

She rolls her eyes and mutters to herself before she continues on. "Okay Grayson. The bodies before us are two young girls, Elane Jackson and Kylie Jackson. Both are twelve years old and the daughters of Malcolm Jackson." I look at her in surprise. “Malcolm Jackson as in, big Drug Cartel, Jackson?” I whisper frantically in a hushed voice as I glance at the reporters ten yards away. Percy nods and looks at her notes. “Let’s see.. according to some witnesses,” She gestures over to a family, huddled together talking to another police officer.

“The family heard children shrieking with laughter before it turned to shrill screams. Then after that, dead silence. The killer appears to be a male in his early twenties and is, like, six foot.”

I shake my head. It’s always a male. And it’s always someone close to the victim. And the killer is always at the crime scene. But, as I look around, no one matches the description from the witnesses. I nod at Percy and stalk over to the police officer questioning the family.

“Excuse me ma’am. Could I talk to them for just a moment?”

She nods, clearly eager to take a break and I swoop in. The family in question seems a little.. odd. They seem calm over the fact that they, well, witnessed a murder.

There was a little girl with them with long, black hair. She had a cute butterfly clip with blue wings as she held a purple bunny. She looked wistful almost as she looked at the scene before her.

I looked at the father and he looked calm yet underneath, now that I was up close, he seemed scared. The wife as well. They both looked cold too as they seemed to have dressed lightly for the weather despite it being nearly freezing for the evening. The girl however was dressed appropriately. I look out to the sky. Almost nightfall now with the pretty mix of blue and purple hues. I look back at the family.

"Hello there sir and ma'am. I'm Detective Grayson." I smile politely and stick out my hand. Formality makes everyone comfortable. Or so I thought.

At the mention of the word detective, the father looks at me with an exasperated expression. "Please Mrs. Grayson, we've been interrogated for three hours. Let us go home and we'll call you if we find anything else." He sounded final as he turned to go, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder, who, in turn, grabbed the little girl's hand and led them to their car behind the reporters.

I nodded and headed back to the crime scene. Once I got close to it, my phone rang. They found something already? I thought as I pulled it out of my pocket to see it was. But the minute I looked at the caller ID, the ringing stopped. Silence except for the handful of reports still desperate to get a story in before the day ended.

Which meant more work for me if a story got out before we could gather all the facts.

I saw Percy getting some more info and samples from someone in her field so I went up to the bodies to look at them myself. And what I found shocked me. I immediately called everyone over.

"I think we need to send backup on this one!"