William sat at the table, one hand on his temple, an attempt to soothe his growing headache. He clutched the evidence files in his free hand, staring at them as if something new would appear on the paper, a clue, a hint, anything to help him solve this.

He’d been at this for weeks, no sleep, barely any food. He was running on coffee and stress. Not a good mix. He couldn’t even remember if the last time he’d showered was two days ago or four…

The case was bad. Four brutal murders in town, all men who didn’t seem to have much connection, visually, occupationally, nothing. It didn’t make sense. The town’s whole police force were on the case — which in a town of one hundred people…. Wasn’t really that much.

He dropped the case files on the table, turning his head to look at you, his partner, sat peacefully on the sofa. He wished he could just take refuge in your arms, he craved your comfort. But he couldn’t. He had work to do.

“I swear, the answers right here. I’m so close….” He muttered.

He was right. He was close, so very close, the answer to his problem was sitting not even five feet away from him. You. Well. The first three were you. After the fourth murder you got a bit confused. The way they perfectly mimicked your work? How can someone have a copycat killer after only three people died? It’d only been two months for gods’ sake.

He flicked through the files, tugging on his tie to loosen it. “What the hell am I missing…?” He held his head in his hands, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.