There was just something about it, the smell of blood. Tangy, almost…sweet. Mixed with the scent of freshly disturbed soil, it almost took on an aphrodisiac quality. But then suddenly, something broke through the sweet haze. Footsteps. Too heavy to be any sort of animal which meant…

 

"Sh*t." He leapt to his feet, brushing his hands clean on his jeans. He glanced down at the poor fool at his feet, only haphazardly buried, and shook his head. It would have to do. Couldn't risk getting caught. 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

Out of everything, it was the strangest sense of deja vü that hit Patrick as he and Ricky walked up to the yellow tape. He'd been out of the field for nearly a year but it felt like he'd hardly been gone. The detective in charge of the scene was one they'd met before and internally, Patrick braced himself for the questions he just knew he'd be fielding.

 

"Ricky," the detective said, extending his hand. "Nice to see you again. Wish it was under better circumstances but you know how sh*t goes. And…" His eyes traveled over Ricky's shoulder and his gaze noticeably softened. "Patrick. Wasn't expecting to see you. How are you…um, how are you doing?"

 

How are you doing? What a loaded f***ing question. In truth, he was doing terrible. Drinking in excess, laying in his childrens' bedroom crying himself to sleep over his slaughtered family, wishing he'd been home so he could've saved them or at the very least, gone with them. "I'm…fine," Patrick said. He gave the detective a look that told him not to push things further and thankfully, the detective seemed to take notice.

 

"Anyway, victim is 38 year old Michael Wegovy. Same MO as all your other ones. Only difference is this guy doesn't seem to be as low-risk as your first three. No wife or kids but he had a couple of other close family members we've notified. They should be down at the station for you guys to talk to."

 

"Yeah, I think Erica and Joe are handling that," Patrick said. "Now are you gonna show us the f***ing body or do we plan on standing here all day?"

 

The detective barely seemed to hide his bewildered expression. "Uh…yeah. Right this way." 

 

Eyes, eyes, eyes. It seemed like every f***ing pair of eyes on scene was fixed on Patrick as he followed Ricky and the detective. He wasn't surprised. His family's murder had turned this town on its head. Murder wasn't a new concept for Buffalo, not even close. But an entire family slaughtered in their home? It was unimaginable. People whispered that it they'd never imagined something like that could happen, that it was their worst nightmare. 

 

And Patrick was living it.

 

"Well, here you go," the detective said. It was spoken with the air of a waiter handing you a plate of food. "We've already gone over the entire crime scene so take whatever you need."

 

"I still can't figure out how he manages to cut the ribs so cleanly," Ricky said, crouching down next to the gravesite. With a gloved hand, he reached out to touch the exposed tip of one of the victim's ribs. "And what he does with the f***ing heart."

 

"Probably eats it," Patrick said. Ricky looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Patrick simply shrugged. "Just saying. This world is full of f***ed up people. As for the ribs, I'd say some sort of saw."

 

"Like a bone saw? How would you even get one of those?"

 

"You can buy just about anything on the internet," Patrick said. "Hell, I bet I could go to Amazon right now and order a medical grade bone saw, the kind surgeons use? Have it on my doorstep by Tuesday."

 

"Right…" Ricky eyed Patrick strangely as he got back to his feet. "I'll have Spencer look into that, see if he can't dig up any leads. In the meantime…you stay off Amazon, holy sh*t."

 

For the first in what seemed like forever, the smallest hint of a smile flickered across Patrick's face. But he wasn't looking at Ricky. He was looking at the cavernous hole in Michael Wegovy's chest, where his heart used to lay. "Guess there's more than one way to lose your f***ing heart."