One lone lightbulb flickered a few times and then settled on being turned on, illuminating a cold corner of a dark archive room. An older man in a nothing-fancy suit set a paper box on the table and sat down, the chair squeaked under his weight. With a sigh loud enough to echo from the tall iron shelves surrounding him, the man opened the paper box and set the cover aside. The tag on it read 'Recovered from body site, case S218.11'
His hands moved slow as if they were too heavy on their own when they took a plastic bag out of the box. Inside the bag was a crumpled leather bound journal. Its pages were wrinkly and stained and the ink on the paper was somewhere smudged to no recognition, yet the man treated it like the most valuable document he’s ever held.
He just held it for a moment and felt his face swell up, the skin around his eyes felt too tight and his throat was dry. Taking a deep breath and rubbing the bridge of his nose seemed to help. Once he felt better, he opened the journal and his mind sunk into its content.
So my therapist says I should start a work journal. It will help me separate my professional and private life apperently. I’m not saying she’s wrong but she’s defini ly not right. Poor trees didn’t need to die just so I could mumble about my work day. I’m gonna forget about wr ing this in a few days anyway. But for now, I guess these few lines are good enough. Can’t say I didn’t try, right?
There’s a n w case. We found a body of a woman in the river a few days back. I.. can’t get it out of my head, nobody kno s who she is. So ne has to be looking for this girl, right?
So apperently, nobody misses this woman. No ID, no driving license, no missing person report matching her appearance. S just drowned. Somehow.
The chief is ruling this an acci nt, how fucking dense can he be? This wasn’t an accident. I’m sure of it. I’ve got no proof but I know it’s not. I just got… a hunch.
Another body found. Young girl just like the one before. Jane Doe #2. So far no match within mis ing persons, again, no ID.
I and Gabriel got the case assigned. I knew it, there’s more to this than just accident drowning. First step is to invest te the riverbank and surroundings, we’ve got no other lead so far anyway.
We’ve been walking in freezing mud and water for th ee days and still nothing.
Found cigarette butts in the middle of the Legion Bridge. A whole ton of them. The bridge matches the estimated distance sec nd dead body traveled down the river. It’s not much but it’s all we have.
The chief pulled us from the case. He an idiot or what? I mean, yeah, we’ve got nothing so far but that doesn’t mean there’s not g going on! We’re just waiting for another dead body I guess. Who’s the wannabe Jane Doe #3?
I got sent the re ul s from the lab about the ci e tte butts. I guess they didn’t stop the testing when chief cancelled the investigation. And it has a DNA match. Karl Zannis, a pimp. Been in jail more often than out of it.
The chief didn’t even lis n to me. T re w e out of his office. Gabriel told me to drop it as well.
I’ e decided to confront Zannis on my own.
The man turned the fragile page to keep reading but the rest of the little book was familiarly blank.
“Gabriel,” said a deep voice from behind him, belonging to a colleague, “Reading it again, huh?”
The big figure hunched over the table stood up without answering and swiftly put the journal back into the plastic bag and the bag back into the box. With a few long steps, he approached the correct shelf and put the box away on its place.