Chief Finch had been thinking calmly through all of it. He raised a hand, silencing the room's chatter, then passed the letter to one of his people.
"Run it for prints."
The results came back fast.
"Chief, we didn't find a single print."
"The killer has some level of counter-forensic awareness. They likely wore gloves while writing the letter. Not a single fingerprint anywhere on it."
Almost at the same moment, while everyone was scrambling over the dead-end lead, one of the female officers on the task force suddenly looked around in alarm.
"Where's Justin?"
My head snapped up.
"That's not right. He was just here a second ago."
Chief Finch's expression changed in an instant, as if something had clicked.
"Move!"
"Find Justin now!"
The worst possible outcome had come to pass.
In the dumpster downstairs.
Justin's body was found, already stiff and cold.
Shocked cries rippled through the task force. Chief Finch clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white, a vein pulsing at his temple.
"How is this possible?"
My eyes burned red. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the ground in total despair.
"Who did this? Who killed Justin? Show yourself! If you have some grudge, come after me! Come after ME!"
I sobbed until my throat was raw.
I had completely broken down.
Jacqueline Whitney, one of the female officers on the task force, couldn't stand to watch any longer. Her own eyes were rimmed with red as she came over and gently pulled me to my feet.
"Deborah, you need to calm down."
"Justin's death hurts all of us too. But this isn't your fault."
She lifted her gaze, eyes blazing with fury, toward Justin's body.
"What matters right now is catching whoever did this."
"The killer was willing to leave us that letter. Whether it's the handwriting or something else, there has to be a clue in it."
"And Justin was killed right under our noses."
"I refuse to believe the killer didn't slip up somewhere."
They immediately called in the medical examiner to perform an autopsy on Justin.
The results were identical to those of my four dead boyfriends. Exactly the same.
I broke down wailing.
"Am I really cursed?"
"Justin wasn't even my real boyfriend. Does even pretending to be my boyfriend mean a death sentence?"
But right then.
Chief Finch gripped the letter so tightly his fingers trembled. His head snapped up.
"I know who killed him."
