Carlia Barkhuizen

Police sirens could be heard in the distance, growing louder as the white and blue police vehicle came to a sudden halt in front of an ordinary hotel.

Nothing seemed strange or even out of place.

Detective Carl Murphy gave a slight laugh as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

That is clearly what she wanted everyone to think. Well, now the game is finally over.

"Hey, Murph, you sure this is the place? If we hadn't known any better, you would think this is just a normal hotel." Carl's partner and friend, Roy Gilbert, said with a frown. The creases on his forehead deepened from worry.

"Oh, I'm sure, Gil. You should know by now how these creatures operate. You never know what you are going to get." Carl answered, also frowning.

This was the last straw. The fifteenth murder was reported earlier tonight. The body was reportedly seen inside this very hotel. The report was made by one of the hotel employees. She claimed to have seen a woman dragging what looked like a body bag into one of the hotel rooms, but was too petrified to give any further details.

We have got you now.

"This woman is lethal, man. I have never seen anything this gruesome before. It is about time we put an end to this." Roy said, rubbing his face. He could feel a migraine coming.

Carl nodded decisively and pulled the handbrake up. They both looked at each other and quickly got out of the car.

Armed and ready, they entered the building and hurried straight towards the elevators, dismissing the alarmed receptionist with a quick but soft response of "Stay calm, ma'am, we've got this."

According to the witness, the body was seen on the fourth floor, Room 302.

After reaching the fourth floor, they crept into the hallway and slowly reached Room 302.

"Prepare yourself, Murph. We are sitting with a heinous psycho killer on our hands. She could get violent." Roy whispered.

"I expect nothing less. Nevertheless, we must remain calm. We treat her like a wild animal, contain her, and then we pounce." Carl whispered back while carefully knocking on the door.

No response.

Another knock, more purposeful.

A muffled "Who's there?" could be heard.

"Detectives Carl Murphy and Roy Gilbert from the police, we're here just to ask a few questions, miss. Please open the door."

Something that sounded like an object falling and rushed footsteps could be heard. The key fumbled in the lock before finally turning, and the door swung open.

A disorganised young woman appeared, with tangled red hair and black circles under her eyes.

It seemed that she had been crying and was not sure what was going on.

"May we come in for a moment?" He asked more subtly.

The woman seemed to struggle to take in what he was saying.

"Uh...yes, yes... of course. Excuse me, officers, I apologise, but what seems to be the problem?" She asked, looking confused and uncertain.

I can smell alcohol; no wonder she looks so bad. Carl thought. Typical criminal.

Both detectives walked in, pushing her aside, and started to investigate.

"What the hell? You can't jus..." She tried to protest, but Carl interrupted her.

"A very serious allegation has been made against you, Miss."

"Wait, what? What do you...Ouch!" She tried to speak but somehow managed to trip over her own feet and landed hard on the floor.

"Murph, uh...I think you need to see this." Roy could be heard from the main bedroom, and Carl slowly walked closer. When he looked where Roy was gesturing, he swallowed heavily, looking back at the woman.

"Miss, you are officially under arrest for first degree murder and attempted disposal of evidence."

As the words left Carl Murphy's mouth, they rang in the air with an ominous silence. All three of them stood in shock, as they had just seen the most gruesome scene with their own eyes.

Roy Gilbert has just found a decapitated female corpse underneath the main bedroom's bed.

"What the actual heck..." He whispered, slowly looking back at Carl.

The corpse was so badly damaged you could see hatred in every scar, bruise, and wound. It was horrifying.

After contemplating the scene for another minute, the two men turned their attention to the suspected murderer.

The young woman stood frozen, not uttering a word or showing any expression. Then, without warning, she bent over and spilled her guts all over the floor.

Due to instinct, Roy rushed forward to help her, but Carl stopped him.

"No, Gil. Let her puke her lungs out. May it be her first punishment of many to come." He said, staring at her with a look of disgust.

She threw up again, with continuing intensity, coughing and shaking in between.

"Alright, that's enough. You must come with us now, Miss. No sudden movements. You have the right to remain silent. I really hope you have your story straight; you've got a lot of explaining to do." Carl responded with bitterness, clearly evident in his voice. Managing to stand up straight, the woman tried to speak.

"Wait...."

She was immediately silenced as both detectives darted towards her, with Carl grabbing her arms from behind and Roy placing the handcuffs firmly around her wrists.

Forcing her to walk, they pushed her outside the door into the hallway and led her through the rest of the hotel, with a few bystanders staring in horror.

Cold air brushed against Brayleigh Connor's body as she lay limp on the hard cement floor. She was sleeping, or at least trying to. Her head throbbed with pain, forcing her to slowly open her eyes.

What happened?

It felt like she had some sort of nightmare; she was drenched in sweat.

A damp scent was hanging in the air. Getting her eyes to finally focus, she realised with a shock where she was and her memory began to return. Her heart raced with cortisol rushing through her body, and she jolted upwards.

I am in a prison cell! No, no, no, this cannot be happening! Ouch, damn!

Brayleigh shrieked as another sharp pain went through her head. She had forgotten about the hangover. Steadily sitting down and rubbing her temples, she remembered her sad attempt to drown her sorrows last night with alcohol. What was she thinking!? Clearly, she was not.

Well, have mercy on yourself, Brayleigh. Bradley dumped you a week before your wedding day. Anyone else would have done the same.

However, now she had bigger issues to worry about. A corpse was found in her hotel room! The sickening picture popped up in her mind intrusively, and she had to resist throwing up again.

What the hell was going on?

Every thought was too painful to consider, so she tried to yell and get someone's attention.

"Hello? Anyone in here?" She asked, regretting raising her voice instantly. The headache was worse now. Before she could do anything else, she heard footsteps and a door unlocking. Brayleigh froze and just sat still.

A loud bang against the prison bars made her shut her eyes tight with pain.

"Get up, Miss." A man spoke harshly, unlocking the prison bar door and yanking her up with one arm.

"Ouch! Hey, please, stop! You are hurting me!" She cried out, but the man did not seem to bother to take her seriously.

Detective Carl Murphy laughed sarcastically.

"Shut up! You can thank your lucky stars we are nice enough to even give you a chance to explain yourself. Not that you deserve it." He yelled in her face.

Brayleigh said nothing further and just whimpered silently as the detective dragged her across a hallway towards a small room with a black door.

After a few minutes, she was pushed down onto a chair, and the man stomped onwards to the other side of her and also parked himself on a chair.

For a while, there was only silence.

The man stared at her with anger in his eyes. Finally, summoning up some courage, she cleared her throat and tried to speak again.

"Excuse me, detective...Murphy. I have a terrible headache, is there a chance I can just get something for the pain?" She was done with feeling small under his intimidating gaze.

Carl ignored her but scoffed loudly instead.

Probably a drug mule too, he thought.

He organised a file in front of him.

"So, Brayleigh Connor, at last we have found you," Carl said softly, almost in a whisper.

"What do you mean, detective? Can someone explain to me what's going on here?" Brayleigh said, with an urgency evident in her voice.

"Ahh, of course, the 'I'm the victim' game. Is it not interesting, a forensic therapist, someone who is supposed to understand and help criminals, became a criminal herself? Seems like you have spent too much time with them. You are not going to make it easy for us, are you?" He exhaled, as bitterness was expressed with every word.

Brayleigh frowned with confusion, "I don't know what you are talking about."

Her statement made Carl laugh out loud.

"Oh, I would have believed you all right. If only you could explain how your DNA was found on the very corpse under your bed and all fourteen previously murdered women. Go on then, I'm listening."

Detective Carl Murphy and Brayleigh Connor sat in silence. Twenty minutes have passed since Carl urged her to explain herself.

Brayleigh tried to gather her thoughts through the pain and swallowed heavily. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest. She was terrified.

Clearly, this man had already made up his mind about her; also, somehow, her DNA was found on all the murdered victims. It was dooming evidence! As far as her fate was concerned, her future did not seem very bright.

"Hmm...now we're quiet, aren't we? Cat got your tongue?" Carl asked sarcastically, clearly enjoying mocking her.

"Detective, um...Honestly, I don't know what to say. All I know is that there must be some mistake." Brayleigh said, trying to explain.

Carl scoffed and shook his head.

"I'll tell you what to say, admit to your wrongdoings! You'll make my life and everyone else's way easier." He said, paging through the file and flipping back to the beginning, frowning intensely.

Brayleigh could not bear the pain any longer and shut her eyes tightly. She could feel her face clamping up.

It seems like she is really in pain. I guess she cannot act that well, Carl thought, feeling a bit of empathy for her.

"Okay, try to relax. I'll call someone to get you something for the pain." He said as he picked up the phone and made a call.

"Thank you..." She muttered gratefully.

After a few minutes, Brayleigh received some headache tablets and a glass of water; without hesitating, she drank them immediately.

Detective Carl looked at her carefully as she sat, completely still with her eyes closed. He could uncover anyone who was trying to lie to him. He was excellent at it! After all, he had been working for the police for seventeen years. However, this girl sitting in front of him was nothing he had encountered before. She seemed genuinely upset and scared, as if she truly had no idea as to how she got in the position she was in now.

Come on, Carl! You know how messed up these criminals can be. The evidence is too clear. She is probably psychopathic and manipulating you already. Well, there is only one way to find out.

"Okay, Miss Connor. Let's get this over with. I'm going to ask you a few questions regarding all the crimes you have been charged with up until now. If you cooperate, you might have a chance to explain your side of the story. However, do not get too hopeful. You have serious allegations made against you. You should be thankful that this town does not allow the death penalty, otherwise you would have been done for. You understand that, right?" Carl leaned forward with his arms on his knees, observing her quietly.

Brayleigh just sat for a minute with her hands folded in her lap, the handcuffs' chain dangling from her knees. The next moment happened so suddenly that neither Carl nor Brayleigh saw it coming. She burst into hysterical tears.

Detective Carl did not know how to respond. If he had not known any better, he would have sworn she really was innocent.

"Okay, Miss...uhh...let's try to calm down. Work with me here, let's start from the beginning." Carl tried to explain, awkwardly pushing a box of tissues towards her. Brayleigh managed to stop shaking and slowly grabbed a tissue, wiping her eyes.

"Okay." She muttered with courage.

Carl flipped once more through the file and pulled out a photo.

"Miss Connor, does this woman look familiar to you? Do you know her?" Carl asked, showing a photo of an eighteen year old blonde girl. Brayleigh looked at the photo intensely, trying to concentrate.

"No, detective. I have never seen her before." Carl leaned forward again and watched her closely.

"You see, I find that very hard to believe. This is Judith Smith, a local prostitute here in Willow Creek. Her body was found mutilated, decapitated, and abandoned a few yards from the local club. One of the locals claimed they saw you many times at this very club, leaving with various women. One bystander took a photo of you with Judith." Carl showed another photo to Brayleigh.

It was indeed a photo of what seemed to be her and Judith Smith.

"Wait, this can't be possible. I didn't even know this club existed! This person looks like me, but she is wearing clothing I don't even own." Brayleigh protested, looking more closely.

"Come on now, this person looks exactly like you! How do you explain..." Carl started, but was interrupted.

"Look! Right there...on her neck in the photo. There's a birthmark. I don't have a birthmark like that! It's small, but it's there. I recognise it. Oh my goodness, I think I know what is going on."