1

“Who in their right mind kills a woman 9 months pregnant?” Questions Campbell, shocked by the sight in front of him.

Diaz breathes heavily, trying his hardest not to pass out from the massacre. He swallows thickly whilst trying to reel in his composure enough to collect more clues.

“Diaz, are you alright? I know what this means for you. Maybe we should put someone else over the case,” Campbell sympathetically offers.

“Don’t force yourself to fight this battle.”

“I’m fine,” He grits.

“If I can’t handle it, I will tell you,” he states, not fully convincing Campbell one bit.

“Detective Diaz, this was addressed towards you,” a fellow cop states, passing a black envelope to him.

“Hmm, wonder what this is,” He places the letter in his jacket pocket and scoots down to collect a sample of the poor woman’s body.

The Damsel in front of him was covered in burns. That’s how he knew to find her in the first place.

“Campbell its smoke, its a smokescreen, a misdirection. The killer is misleading us to get us off his odorless scent. I got it!”

From that, he gathered that the victim would be in a place with a fire or one that represented the heat. What better place than the abandoned fire station on 37th Street?

When the police arrived with paramedics the building was ablaze and it took 2 hours to put the flames out. The woman was presumed dead before the fire even began. Further proving that the killer was a sick person because he didn’t have to burn her. Or her dead child.

“I can’t take this,” Diaz exclaimed, walking to the other side of the room face drawn of all its color.

Amid his mini breakdown, the letter had slipped out of his pocket. Campbell grabbed the object off the floor gesturing to Diaz to ask if he could open it. Diaz shrugged not caring what the contents inside would insinuate.

Campbell fell silent, a scared expression creeping across his face as he urged Diaz to take the letter.

“Campbell I don’t feel up to reading fan mail.”

“I don’t care if I have to sit you down myself, read the letter.” Campbell urged, voice going a decimal higher than normal.

As the Detective grabbed the letter, he opened it slowly not sure if he was ready to see the black that would haunt him.

The letter read:

To the dearest Diaz,

I was there that night, like every night, everywhere, I was chosen. Fortunately for you, I was an angel. The mule that carries a load of burden and chance to its destination. Are you confused? So was I when I realized that our fates went beyond these petty crimes.

Doesn’t this scene remind you of anything?

Look up and scan the room. I urge you to take in the smell and the images before you because it reminded me of your untimely descent from all things happy and honed. How a decision of your own making burned your future.

Diaz looked around, heart racing, not fully trusting his body with such an anxious feeling. Quickly scanning the room for a reaction to indicate if this was a prank gone too far. Woozily, he decided to take a seat, proceeding to continue the cryptic letter.

Rain. That was what you’re child’s name would have been right? Pity.

Like I told you I was there that night.

Your wife called me. Asking for me to hurry to her need because you were nowhere to be found. How does it make you feel, that you gave your all to a job that took away the only thing you couldn’t obtain?

A goodbye.

So here lies a symbolic gift.

Say goodbye to this Damsel and her child. Just like you wished to do for your wife and unborn baby.

I would say I am remorseful for you, but you threaten all I build.

I pity you Detective, I am sorry that the last hope your wife and Rain had was me in their time of need. But I could offer them no consolation as I have my own family to tend to.

Unfortunately,

Mr. Q.

P.S.

Rain is such an ugly color. You really have a way of cursing the things you create. How gray.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Diaz stood abruptly, dropping the chair behind him with a thud. Campbell gives him a sad look, forcing Diaz to realize that everything he just read was real and vivid.

“Come with me!” He yanks Campbell and pulls him outside.

“How could he have known, no one knows! I, you, she? Am I the reason this woman and her child died today?” Diaz is hyperventilating, on the verge of hitting anything to let some emotion out.

Campbell, just stares, before slowly talking.

“Matt, Matthew. I know what my sister meant to you. Hell, I was going to be an uncle, but you. You lost out on being a Dad, and a Husband. And the sicko is taunting you, bragging about his complexes.”

Diaz lets out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I have to do the right thing, don’t I? I have to hand this over to the Captain and explain how this poor woman and child are dead because a serial killer is obsessed with me.”

Campbell lowers his head before slightly nodding.

“I know you wish for nothing but catching the Bastard, but sit down, process your thoughts and tomorrow come to me with your answer. Okay?”

Diaz nods, not fully taking in all his Brother-in-law said.

2

Back at home, Diaz didn’t bother to close the door or even turn on the light. He just stood there amidst the dusty terrain reeling in the what-ifs.

As he began to walk around he stepped on an old toy. It would have been Rain’s, he would have been 3 this year. Tall, probably, not afraid of the world, for he would have had Diaz the mighty detective to his aid. And his wife…

Diaz couldn’t take it and threw his keys at the fireplace, the photo he took of his wife when they first heard the news of their bundle to be, fell, glass cracking on the ground.

Diaz utterly broken, walked solemnly to pick up the frame. He had no mind of the sharp glass but stared at himself within the picture. When was the last time he even smiled sincerely, or had a heartfelt laugh, or spent a night not thinking of what his life could have been if he just picked up the phone that night?

“Call me if you need anything,” Matthew said to his wife Gia, before grabbing his coffee and heading out the door.

She blew him a kiss and proceeded to look at the patches of paint samples on the wall. There were so many variants of gray one could choose to paint elephants and rainclouds before they all seemed the same.

Rain was a homage to the day Matthew me Gia. She shined so bright and pure like white upon a dark canvas. And his day had been bad and blackened. But when he saw her amidst the pour he knew he found peace. So they decided to name their little one Rain, to show that love could wash the sadness away.

Gia not completely sold on the choice of color in front of her, texted her husband asking if thought it was a good idea to hit up the paint shop.

Diaz mentioned how blue was cliche, so now gray was their color of choice. His black and her white to create a world of gray.

He blindly answered okay, and off she went to the paint store. As she began to return home, the floods opened and it was time for Rain to arrive. Gia called Diaz but he was fairly new at his promoted Detective status and agreed to a last-minute priority mission.

Panicked and alone, Mrs. Diaz phoned a cab and frantically spoke the address of the hospital to the man behind the wheel.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea lady, that Hospital is kinda far from us. You sure you will be okay back there?” asked the quizzical driver.

“Yes, this is where my Husband agreed. His job is closer so he can visit more often. In case something like this happened.” She fastly spoke in between sharp breaths.

“Dial him, no man wants to miss the birth of their child. I know I didn’t when my wife had my boy.”

No answer.

Ring. Ring. No answer.

“You have a son?” She asked trying to take her mind off the escalating situation in front of her.

“ Yes. He takes after my wife, very kind and inquisitive. What about you what will this one be?”

“It’s a boy, my Husband decided on the name Rain, I like it, it sounds impactful like thunder yet quiet.”

Ring. No Answer.

“Well, we’re here. Do you want me to help grab your stuff?”

“Please and thank you.” She handed him more than the bill amounted to and squeezed his hand in thanks as he helped her out of the car.

As she rushed to the correct ward a small elephant had fallen out of her bag. Being rushed by the doctors around her she reached her hand back to gesture to the gift she wanted to present to her son.

“Here,” the man offered, handing her back the plush item.

“T-Thanks, can you hold on to that for me?” She gasped.

As further events ensued within the room, a nurse scribbled Gia & Rain on the board hanging next to the door.

Hours later and no Detective Diaz, the same nurse erased the names and sadly sauntered off.

The man held his head low, before placing the elephant on the counter and walking away.

3

Diaz remembered what happened next when he got off of work. He had checked his phone that night and saw all of the texts and calls his wife had sent him. Then there was nothing for a while.

Afraid of what he thought in his head to be true from the lack of answers anyone around him could give. He walked into the Hospital doorways, down the long-winded hall, and froze as he saw the elephant on the table. Lonely and misplaced.

He didn’t dare to believe what was true, and walked into the ward, shocked to find his love and his heart covered in white cloth. His feet no longer reacted well and as he began to fall the world around him fell dark.

4

As Diaz awoke from this tormenting dream he often had, he realized that he wouldn’t win. He couldn’t.

Not when everything he prized his life upon was gone in a flash. So as he put on his uniform and stared at the walls half gray with paint swatches, He kissed the cracked photo on the mantle and dialed Campbell.

“I’m not done yet. Let’s catch this psycho.”