Chapter 1
Chapter 1
288 Vouchers
The iron bars rattled as dawn broke over St. Louis.
“Inmate 9527, you’ve got a visitor.”
Adelina Moran opened her eyes. Once, her gaze could strip every mask and expose every hidden truth.
Now, it was flat, hollow–three years in prison had stolen her light.
She had been the youngest prodigy on the police force, a profiler who could read killers like open books.
Now, she was nothing but a number in an orange jumpsuit.
And the man who put her here was the very one she had once called husband–Captain Franco Alvarez, head of the Criminal Investigations Division.
“Who is it?” Her voice rasped, dry and cracked.
The guard’s reply cut through the silence.
“Franco Alvarez.”
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Her chest seized. The name felt like a rusted blade twisting in her heart.
In the sterile visiting room, she faced him at last. He looked untouchable in his uniform, every line of his body rigid with authority.
He didn’t even spare her a glance—just slid a document across the table.
“Sign it,” he said coolly. “Then get out there and help me catch the killer.”
Her eyes fell on the bold letters: Parole Agreement.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
“Captain Alvarez, is this how you beg for help?”
At last, his dark eyes lifted to hers–once warm with love, now as cold as stone.
“This isn’t a favor, Adelina,” he said, voice sharp as steel.
“It’s an order.”
***
Franco arrived at a desolate graveyard on the western outskirts of St. Louis.
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The moment he stepped out of the car, the stench of blood mixed with damp earth assaulted his senses.
A woman’s corpse, gruesomely eviscerated, was planted in the dirt in a grotesquely twisted pose. Only her head pro- truded from the ground, her face ghastly pale, her eyes wide in eternal horror.
“Ugh…”
A young rookie officer doubled over and vomited on the spot.
Franco surveyed the scene with a stoic expression, his brows furrowed.
This marked the third victim.
The killer’s methods mirrored those from the infamous “Rainy Night Butcher” serial murders three years ago–the very case that had landed Adelina behind bars.
Each victim had been tortured savagely, their bodies slit open from sternum to groin. The elusive perpetrator re- mained as rampant as ever.
The butcher was back.
“Captain Alvarez, still no leads.” Deputy Captain Judson Myers approached, his face grave. “The scene’s been wiped clean–no traces left behind.”
Franco clenched his fists. He knew the killer was taunting him–and forcing his hand.
“Has she arrived?” he asked, his voice gravelly and strained.
Judson paused, then realized who “she” referred to.
“Yeah, she’s in the car.”
Franco turned and strode toward the black car parked beyond the caution tape.
The door swung open, and Adelina emerged.
She was clad in a bright orange prison jumpsuit, an electronic ankle monitor shackled to her leg. She was frail and pale, yet her eyes blazed with intensity.
When her gaze fell upon the corpse, there was no flicker of fear, only a chilling composure.
It was as if she were dissecting a complex puzzle rather than staring at human remains.
“Well?” Franco’s voice carried a faint tension.
He hated Adelina. Still, he had to admit: when it came to criminal profiling, she was unmatched. Without her, this case would go nowhere.
Adelina didn’t respond immediately. She circled the body methodically, round after round.
She examined the wounds and the surrounding soil, picking up details that no one else had noticed.
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The team held its breath, waiting for her verdict.
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“The murderer is a male, standing between 1.8 and 1.85 meters. He’s strong, and he’s been through professional com- bat training.”
Adelina’s voice was raspy but crystal clear.
“He has severe OCD, an obsessive cleanliness compulsion, and… antisocial personality disorder.
“The killing itself isn’t the point for him; he finds pleasure in the process. In his eyes, it wasn’t a crime; it was the work of art.”
The veteran detectives gasped in unison.
She’d figured out so much just from observing the scene for a while?! It was nothing short of extraordinary!
Franco’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Her insights aligned perfectly with the conclusions he’d pieced together over three sleepless years.
“What else?” he pressed.
“And…”
Adelina raised her head slowly, locking eyes with Franco for the first time after she got here. Her once clear eyes now shimmered with frosty derision.
“He’s intimately familiar with police procedures.
“He might even be… one of your own.”
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