No Trace

Image borrowed from:
Image borrowed from:

The detective was absolutely perplexed. “All the crime scenes look the same,” he commented to his partner. “How is he doing it?”

The body was displayed exactly the same was as the other four victims. The victim looked almost identical to the other four (brunette, brown eyes, around 30 years old, female, approximately 130 pounds, around 5’4” tall, etc.). They all had the same occupations (waitresses). They lived in one-bedroom apartments within 10 miles of each other.

But that wasn’t all, there were absolutely no fingerprints anywhere to be found; not even fingerprints of the victims. The shell casing from the bullet used to kill them was placed in virtually the same spot at each crime scene. There were no signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. No trace DNA evidence on or near any of the victims. No blood found except on the victims themselves.

“Whoever this is, he is really good,” his partner replied. The problem lies in that if they didn’t catch the guy soon, there were a potential for a great many more victims. This was New York City, after all. There were plenty of 30-year-old brunette waitresses living in one-bedroom apartments in a 10-mile radius.

“John, take a look at this,” the beat cop who arrived on the scene first pointed to what looked like a business card laying on the floor a few feet from the victim. After it was photographed, John carefully picked it up in his gloved hand and read what it said.

It was for a local nightclub just two blocks from where they were. A smile slowly crept over John’s face. “Gotcha, you bastard!”

Written for:  Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Winner of:  Daily Flash Fiction Challenge



I am a 43-year-old, single mom of 19-year-old boy/girl twins living in an extremely small town in rural Texas. Currently, I am employed as a Site Supervisor for a prominent corporation that provides security officers for homes and businesses.

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