A broken lamb’s leg, emotionally unstable wife, blood on the mahogany-colored hardwood floor: the scene was perfect. The decomposing body of Patrick Maloney laid on the floor of his own home, and yet he was just the first, merely a number. Of all the homicide cases that Sergeant Noonan had seen in the past ten years, this one had troubled him the most. It wasn’t just the placement of the body or even Patrick’s distorted and cracked cranial membrane. Even the smell was the norm for the course by now. No, it was the identity of the killer. How could somebody commit such an atrocious act all under Noonan’s own nose? Resting his head in his hands, Sergeant Noonan was thoroughly ashamed. If only time could reverse itself, all would be well. Rewinding the tape for the tenth time that…show more content… There had to have been a way to have avoided this. Could he have perhaps stopped Patrick from going home that night, may be suggested for a take out at his place? Yet, in the epiphany of paradoxical thought, the universe itself knew that nothing could have stopped him that fateful night, right? No...there was a way. If this tape got to the forensics department, they would be able to confirm the murderer’s identity. Just as Noonan got out of his plush velvet chair with the CD in his hand, he felt a wave of nausea come over him. Reaching for the water pitcher, he poured himself a glass of water as his hands shook and with a swig, he took it all in, oblivious of the snake venom embedded within the drink. The taste of salt and chemicals squashed in the back of his throat, and as the strange flavor of the drink enveloped, his body convulsed, and with thick intense noises, he choked on the fluid, and with a thud, Noonan fell to the ground. If he hadn't been so absorbed by the video, he might’ve noticed a cloaked figure in the corner of his room, observing his every move. He might’ve even seen that it was, in fact, a woman, just a few months short of being a
