Oh Hell!

The young detective stared at him with wild eyes. Greerson either didn't notice or didn't care. Those who knew him would say both.

"If ya want a bigger piece to look at, there's a small pile of raw hamburger and some tattered clothes over by those techs. I think they're almost done, so you are probably welcome to it. There is more hamburger in the evidence container by the door, and I think they sent another pound or so to the m.e..."

That was how far he got before detective Greene bolted gagging for the door while holding a hand in front of his mouth.

"You really are a sonofabitch Greerson," one of the other detectives remarked.

"He'll be ok Dave," Greerson protested. "He's a good kid, and we've all been there. What doesn't kill ya, makes ya stronger and all that shit."

"So what do you think happened here," Dave asked.

"Judging from the scene I'd say somebody put the poor bastard through a blender and spray-painted the room with the juice."

"So we're basically looking for a house painter who owns a giant Kitchen Aid? Should be easy enough," Dave sighed sarcastically.

Greerson's stony face took on a troubled look.

"Hell if I know what we're looking for Dave. When I served Uncle Sam down in the sand pits, those camel fuckers sometimes blew themselves up trying to take us with them. Some wore grenade harnesses or belts, and a few even shoved explosives up their asses. I did a lot of cleanup back then and saw some seriously bad shit, but I ain't never seen anything like this. Not even close."

"He was discovered by his mother?"

Greerson nodded.

"She's in the hospital under medical care. Had a total breakdown and can't be questioned for the time being. The father and the daughter are staying at the Holiday Inn."

A female detective - an attractive redhead whose maturity was revealed by a few grey streaks in her shoulder length hair - joined the conversation.

"Do you think this is connected to the multiple homicide at the downtown parking lot?" she asked.

"Probably," Greerson admitted. "The two suspects claim that the murders were committed by a girl that we so far only know as Luci in cooperation with the vic of this crime... erhm..."

Greerson fished out a small notebook and checked his scribbles.

"... Michael Weston Bower," he continued. "Eighteen years of age and a student at the local university. The existence of the girl known as Luci has been confirmed by his father, but he has no further information about her. We can't do a reliable composite, cause he only saw her decked out for Halloween. All we have on her so far is five foot four, black hair down to her waist, apparently somewhat of a looker, body proportions like a model... and according to the witnesses interviewed - a complete list is in the case files - she comes across as naive and very forward, bordering on tactless."

"That could be any of thousands of young women," the female detective sighed.

"True," Greerson agreed. "But she is connected to a total of four homicides, so ya can bet that we're gonna look for her pretty hard. If she's out there, we'll get her."

"How does the m.o. of the two crimes match?" she inquired.

"They don't. Well, except for the fact that they both are equally batshit crazy. In the parking lot two of the vics had a section of their thoracic spine mechanically extracted, which caused massive trauma resulting in almost instant death from blood loss. The third vic had his neck broken from a blow to the head by a blunt object that has been identified as the spine of vic number two. Death was also instantaneous for that one."

"Spines mechanically extracted? How was that done?"

"According to statements from the two suspects, the mysterious Luci ripped the spines out of their backs with her bare hands. Though the medical examiner disputes the validity of this, claiming that some type of tool must have been used. The force required exceeds the theoretical maximum of a human hand by a considerable margin."

The female detective shook her head looking like somebody who desperately needed a vacation.

"Do we have a time of death for this vic?" Dave wanted to know.

"Estimated three thirty-five last night. According to the neighbors they heard continuous screaming from this house starting around five minutes past three and continuing for roughly thirty minutes. This being Halloween an' all they didn't think much of it, but fortunately they remembered the time. Plus the fact that it definitely was a man's scream."

The female detective frowned.

"So the vic is alleged to have screamed continuously for thirty minutes?"

"Yep," Greerson confirmed. "Took the poor bastard a long time to die. Whatever happened, he musta been alive and conscious through a lot of it."

"Shit!" Dave remarked.

Greerson nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, hell of a way to go..."