Alexander looked at the photos on the dashboard, his gaze fixed on each one, as though searching for something, anything that might connect them. The victims all shared the same tragic fate—each shot cleanly in the forehead, an execution-style kill. No sign of struggle, no defensive wounds. The coroner had been clear when briefing the team: "There’s no sign of torture, no signs of personal revenge. The shot is clean and direct. An execution." Alexander’s mind raced as he processed the information. The lack of any real physical evidence, the coldness of the murders, and the chilling precision of each shot told him one thing: this killer wasn’t just ruthless; they were skilled. Whoever was behind these deaths knew exactly what they were doing.

The fact that there was no sign of a connection between the victims only made it more troubling. There was no pattern, no motive that was immediately clear. No ties between them, no common ground, and yet, they all shared the same brutal fate. Alexander had seen his fair share of violent crime in his career, but there was something uniquely unsettling about this series of murders. The calmness, the methodical execution of each victim—it wasn’t just about killing; it was about sending a message.

The case had taken hold of him, drawing him in deeper than he’d anticipated. As the youngest detective at the 121st precinct, he prided himself on his ability to solve even the most complex cases. But this one? This one had him stumped. The absence of a clear motive, the sheer coldness of the killer, made it one of the most difficult challenges he’d ever faced. But Alexander never backed down from a challenge. His mind worked tirelessly, running over the evidence again and again in search of a breakthrough.

“Honey, I’m home…” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, a tiredness that only you could sense. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the intensity of his thoughts seemed to fade as he looked at you. His smile, though small, was genuine.