Body On The Table

They could finally shake hands. "Sorry, I forgot. I have news about that girl's body. Did you find out her identity?” He ran to his desk and grabbed some papers from it. "The sad reality is, that the girl was killed with enormous brutality. I'm done counting... She's been stabbed all over her body and the total is fifty-six. She was also the victim of repeated rape over several days, possibly weeks, but I couldn't find any bodily fluids, that didn't belong to her.

She even suffered from malnutrition. Where she was, she was definitely not given anything to eat or the bare minimum. The killer had to be very careful. I took an x-ray and a video super projection to create a picture of her "real" face. Someone went to the trouble of putting a lot of makeup on her face and putting a wig on her head."

Stefan handed the papers over to Marek. He took them in his hands and looked at the picture of that poor girl. Without a single word and with his eyes fixed on the picture, he just nodded for a goodbye to Stefan and just left. Back in his office, he surfed his computer, trying to find her on the missing persons list.

After about an hour, he found what he was looking for. Anna Maria Bosakova... was her name. She was only seventeen and still in high school. She was missing for two weeks. He rested his forehead on the palm of his right hand. He finally found the victim's identity, but now came the hard part... breaking the news to her parents. This was always the worst part of his job.

Later that day, he went to tell the couple, that he had found their daughter dead. Anna Maria's mother collapsed right in the doorway as soon, as she saw the serious expression on the detective's face. Her fears that her daughter was no longer alive became a cruel reality. These things are every parent's worst nightmare.

Mrs. Bosakova was right. Marek wished he could bring only good news, but mostly he was the messenger of bad news. They invited him in. They were sitting in the sunroom. Her mother, a woman, who had her hair dyed blonde with brown eyes, about fifty years old, was sobbing in the arms of her tall, tanned, brown-haired husband. He just hugged his wife stiffly and tried to keep his feelings in check.

The couch was white with embroidered colored pillows. The television was hanging opposite on the sloping wall. Immediately to the left was a window and a door to the terrace. Behind the couch, stood a fireplace, and on either side was a tall bookcase with books, decor, and photos. To the right stood a black piano with flowers on it.

While he was talking to the victim's parents, he was looking at photos of the girl. Stefan's comment came to his mind. "Did Anna Maria have a taste for doll fashion?" Mr. Bosak woke up from a sad mood to a serious one. Mrs. Bosakova's husband answered. "Why are you asking us such an absurd question? She never dressed like that. She may have had a doll face, but my daughter was a rocker. You can go upstairs to her room and see it for yourself.”

Marek got up and went up the stairs to her room. Her father was right. She's been a hardcore fan for years, so her room and outfits were in the same style. Not even the smallest trace of the doll's clothes. So he already knew, that the doll style was the killer's obsession. The guy will probably be a weirdo with a Lolita complex. At least a small hint, that brought even more confusion to the whole case.

This was just the beginning of something terrible. Two months have passed since the first murder. There were now a total of six cases on Marek's desk. He knew it was one and the same person. But this time an ordinary killer turned out to be a serial killer.

Victoria; his latest victim went missing just three days ago. So far, he has failed to catch the suspect. He was overcome with guilt and fell into a deep depression through this whole hell ride. He felt useless, hopeless... Following findings, Marek always ended up with the body at Stefan's... in the autopsy room. It didn't matter if it was day or night. He wanted to be the first to learn new information about the case.

How else could he achieve this, than by being right next to the morbid source? His diet and lifestyle suffered. He was not eating properly and his hygiene remained more or less a lower priority. A quick shower the night before fixed it. He washed his clothes occasionally and didn't even think about ironing.

Every time he walked up and down the gloomy corridor with his palms clasping his elbows in front of the door of Stefan's "workshop", sometimes his eyes wandered to the TV screen, which captured the victim's body in more detail. Other times he really didn't give in to the pressure and had to look away.