Not long ago, they started calling us the Misery Sisters. We were only five cases in, and we were working on a slew of unusually gruesome murders. No one wanted to touch the cases- that's how we got our break, well, whatever you could consider what a break would be for detectives. It was what we were looking for: credibility, but unfortunately, that came with a price.

Two bodies were found a few months ago within the city walls. After the first body appeared, they were close to ruling that it was an accident, but then the second body showed up, and the style of death was oddly identical; they knew something sinister was at work. It's pretty rare to come across a genuine serial killer, but they were on that shaky line where the police knew they might have had to admit that t was what they were dealing with. We would've never been put in this position, to begin with, if the war hadn't been raging on; we probably would've never had the desire to solve murders or mysteries to start with, but the lack of policing left people in the city unsatisfied with retribution.

Joey Devoni, the owner of a local cafe and a good friend of mine, is who I was with when I saw my first dead body.

On most Thursdays, I walk to the cafe and get there just thirty or so minutes before it opens. That's when Joey would go in to prepare everything for the day before officially opening. I would sit with him while he organized and put the fresh food on display, and we would chat about whatever was going on. One Thursday morning, I was walking to the cafe and, oddly enough, ran into Joey. We didn't live on the same side of town, so I never caught him walking even though we were going to the same place around the same time. When I saw him, I waved, and he stopped to wait for me.

It is hard to think back that far and remember the exact details, but there are some that I will never forget. I remember laughing about something when he put his key in the lock. He went through the motions and looked over his shoulder to keep our conversation going. When he opened the door, he held it for me, and after one step inside, I saw something odd near the door to the back room. It looked as though there was a pool of water.

Joey, I said, do you have a leak?

I pointed over to the puddle.

Oh great, just what I need, he said.

He handed me his keys and ran to get a cloth to wipe it up. I walked over and looked up to see if the dripping was coming from the ceiling, I didn't see anything so I looked down at the puddle; I was close to it this time and realized it was much too dark to be water. The floor was very dark brown, so it was hard to tell, but I knelt down and realized it was blood.

Joey!, I yelled

I'm coming, I'm coming, he said as he tossed me the cloth.

I dipped the end of it in the puddle and pulled it out. Joey's eyes got wide.

This is blood.

The image was much more horrifying when we realized all of the liquid on the floor was blood. We both weren't sure how to react. I cringed and whispered,

Call the police,

Joey gagged and turned away.

Joey, I said again

He ran to the phone behind the counter, after he called we stood together and didn't touch a thing. The trail of blood headed toward the back room, and we both didn't dare attempt to follow. The police arrived about ten minutes after we called and we immediately told them hat happened.

Sergeant McCloud was the man who arrived with a young trainee. I looked over at him

Hes new, he said, Im taking him on the standard lower level calls in town today.

Joey nodded.

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McCloud was a seasoned veteran who lost many good officers because they were shipped off to Europe for the war, so he was left with less-than-stellar men to help him.

He knelt next to the first big pool of blood.

Bag, he said.

One officer named Ken handed him a plastic bag with tweezers, another bag inside, and gloves. He put on one glove and dipped his hand in the blood, then took off the glove and placed it into the bag. He handed it back to Ken.

Put this on that table over there,' he said, pointing to the table closest to the counter.

He followed the blood into the back room and immediately yelled.

Call the ambulance!

The body of a young woman lay on the ground. She was face up, and her eyes had rolled back into her head. She was wearing all shades of brown, and her hair was matted with blood.

Joey, he said, could you come here and tell me if you recognize her?

Joey looked at me. I knew he wasn't going to move a damn muscle so I walked over to the detective.

Miss, I don't think you should see this, he said.

I know, but we have to know who it is, and Joey cannot handle something like this.

The detective figured letting me see and regret my decision was easier than fighting me. I walked into the room and saw the body. I was immediately upset. Joey heard me and ran over.

Oh, no, he said, this is terrible.

Joey fell to his knees next to her. He was going to touch her face, but McCloud urged him not to.

How did you know her? McCloud asked.

She delivers pastries from the bakeshop every morning, pretty early, just before I open up.

Okay, we know why she's here. I assume she has a key?, he said while jotting into his notepad.

Yes, Joey said,

I interjected, Something isn't right.

McCloud looked at me.

She comes in every morning to drop off the pastries, but where are the fresh pastries? I looked around the room, then back to the body, then I realized what else was wrong.

That's it!, I exclaimed; she's wearing the same outfit she wore yesterday!

Mccloud pulled out his notepad again.

Are you sure? he asked.

I nodded.

Where would she normally put the pastries when she delivered them?

Joey walked to the counter in the stock room.

Here, he said.

Mccloud walked to the back door, this door is unlocked, he said. does that mean she came in here last night after I closed...but why? Joey had a look of confusion plastered on his face.

We eventually had to leave the cafe while the police tore it apart. Usually, Joey would've been entirely uncomfortable leaving his business to be disrupted by anyone while he wasn't there. Still, he was distraught and wanted to forget about everything.

When we were allowed, or told to leave, rather, McCloud asked us for our home addresses so he could talk to us the next day. He never came. I remember going home that day, eating, then sitting on the couch. I cried a bit, then picked up a book. I read until Charlotte got home, and I told her everything. She sat next to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

I know what will cheer you up, she said, Lie down in bed, Ill be right in.

I didn't argue; lying down in bed sounded lovely.

When I entered the room, the lights were off, and I left them that way. I took off my shoes and got under the covers. A few minutes later, Charlotte came in with some tea, turned on the radio, and then got into bed next to me. She gave me encouraging words, and I turned around. We were facing each other in bed, and I confessed how I felt,

I'm not upset because of what I saw; I'm upset about how I felt about what I saw.

How did you feel?, she asked.

I was sad but not distraught; I just took the death as one would take a task up in work. Just another problem to solve...that's not the proper way to react.

She was quiet for a moment. I imagined she was thinking that I was unwell, but she surprised me again with her understanding.

So, like a doctor when they see a dying person, no emotion, just solutions?

I never thought of it that way, and I told her so.

I believe, she said, you processed what happened very quickly and jumped into righting the wrong immediately, just like a doctor would.

I inched closer to Charlotte and put my arms around her. We held each other until we both fell asleep.

Two days passed, and I thought McCloud would follow up with us, but he hadn't, so I decided to walk to the station. The police station is a moderately sized building made of what I think is limestone or something similar. The building is only a block from my apartment, so I knew where it was and didn't have to catch a ride. I walked into the station wearing a black jacket and a brown dress, the air smelled like lukewarm coffee and cigarette smoke; I walked to a low-level officer at the front counter. He was trying to figure out how files worked; at least, that's what it looked like he was doing. I greeted him and told the man who I was and why I was there. He quickly walked to the Sergeant's office. McCloud came out a few seconds later.

Oh, Sara. He said, I'm so glad you stopped by.

I followed him to his office.