DETECTIVE NOLAN RIVERA
The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Detective Nolan Rivera stepped into the morgue.
The air was a frigid bite against his skin, thick with antiseptic and the faint, metallic tang of blood.
Outside the coroner's building, news vans were clustered along the curb, their satellite dishes stabbing at the gray sky. He could hear reporters shouting into cameras, the words massacre and slasher echoing over and over.
Dr. Leoni, the county medical examiner, stood beside a row of draped bodies. He looked exhausted, eyes ringed in red, the collar of his white coat stained faintly with dried blood.
Nolan blew out a slow breath. "Okay. Take me through it."
Dr. Leoni peeled back the first sheet.
Amber Jones.
Twenty-one.
She lay naked beneath the sheet, pale skin stark under the fluorescent lights. A clean, vicious slash ran across her throat, so deep the tissue gaped open like a second mouth.
Leoni's voice was low. "Amber Jones. Fatal incision to the neck. The wound was so deep it almost completely severed her trachea and major vessels. The killer used a heavy, sharp blade. Death was almost instantaneous."
Nolan winced. "Almost?"
Leoni shook his head. "She might have lived… maybe twenty or thirty seconds. Enough time to bleed out internally. There are defensive wounds on her forearms. She fought back."
Nolan nodded slowly, jaw clenched. "Okay. Next."
Leoni pulled the sheet back from the second body.
Tre Daniels.
Twenty-two.
Tre lay naked as well, deep crimson gashes crossing his abdomen, muscle and tissue visible beneath savage wounds.
"Tre Daniels," Leoni murmured. "Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen. Nearly disemboweled. Intestines partially eviscerated. Also a stab wound to the upper chest, likely puncturing the lung."
Nolan forced himself to look. "How long did he live?"
"Hard to say. The abdominal trauma would have caused massive internal bleeding. But there's evidence he was conscious for at least a minute or two. He was likely trying to crawl when he died."
Nolan pressed a palm over his mouth for a moment, swallowing bile.
Leoni moved to the third table.
Austin Grant.
Twenty-one.
Austin's naked body looked impossibly large and vulnerable on the table. The coroner gently tilted Austin's head to the side, revealing a deep stab wound under the jawline.
"Austin Grant," Leoni said. "Stab wound to the side, initially survivable. But the fatal injury was this."
He indicated the gaping wound near Austin's ear.
"Knife entered under the ear canal, severed the carotid artery and brainstem. Instant death."
Nolan winced. "Jesus."
"Whoever did this knew where to stab."
Fourth table.
Josh Harris.
Twenty.
Josh lay naked under his sheet, his sailor costume long removed and bagged as evidence. His chest was torn open by a deep wound just left of the sternum.
Leoni gave a somber nod. "Josh Harris. Stab wound to the chest. Penetrated the heart. Death was rapid but not immediate. There's evidence of significant blood loss and aspiration."
Nolan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He bled out."
"Yes. It would have taken… maybe five to ten minutes. Long enough to suffer."
Fifth table.
Chloe Freeman.
Twenty.
Even under the stark morgue lights, Chloe looked beautiful—and so heartbreakingly young. Blonde hair matted with dried blood, her body lay bare beneath the sheet. Angel wings and costume were removed and placed in a biohazard bag nearby.
Leoni's jaw tightened as he spoke. "Chloe Freeman. Multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. The wounds suggest a frenzied attack. Some strikes hit vital organs, others were superficial. She may have lingered for a minute or two. Defensive injuries indicate she fought hard."
Nolan shut his eyes for a second. "Jesus, ."
"She tried to escape," Leoni said quietly. "But there were two assailants restraining her. She never stood a chance."
They moved to the sixth table.
Ray Diaz.
Twenty-one.
Ray lay naked beneath the sheet, his tan skin pale now under the morgue lights. Long, ragged stab wounds marred his side, dried blood crusted around them. Another, deeper gash slashed clean across his throat.
Dr. Leoni's brow furrowed. "Ray Diaz. Multiple stab wounds to the lateral abdomen and flank. Significant internal bleeding. The fatal wound was a horizontal slash to the throat, severing the carotid artery and trachea. Death was nearly immediate after that final injury."
Nolan swallowed hard. "Was he trying to fight back?"
Leoni nodded. "Defensive wounds on his hands and forearms. He fought as long as he could."
Nolan's jaw tightened. "Goddammit."
And finally, the seventh table.
Aria Seung.
Twenty.
Nolan stared at the girl lying so still under the sheet. Long black hair spilled across the metal table like spilled ink. Her pale skin gleamed under the cold morgue lights, streaked with dark lines of dried blood around her midsection.
Dr. Leoni lifted the sheet.
Aria's torso was riddled with stab wounds, dark red gashes standing out starkly against her pale flesh.
"Aria Seung," he said gently. "Stab wounds to the lower abdomen. Extensive internal bleeding. She survived for several minutes afterward. There's bruising on her arms and shoulders—she was forcibly restrained. Blood trail suggests she tried to crawl after being attacked."
Nolan swallowed hard. "Was there any dna on her that may help identify her killers?"
Leoni's expression turned grim. "None. she was unconscious when paramedics arrived she lost too much blood so she couldn't give details on her killers ."
Nolan ran a hand through his short hair, fighting the cold tremor in his chest.
"Jesus Christ, Leo. They wiped out seven kids in one night."
The coroner covered Aria again, his voice tight. "Not just any night. Halloween. We've got two killers, masked, who knew that chaos would cover their tracks. This wasn't random. The force, the precision—it's rage mixed with calculation."
Nolan stared down at the covered bodies. "And they're still out there."
Leoni nodded. "The press is calling them the Halloween Butchers."
Nolan ground his teeth. "Of course they are."
Nolan turned away from the bodies, trying to steady his breathing.
"Has anyone come forward? Witnesses?"
Leoni shook his head. "No one anything nearby and since its a frat neighborhood most were all passed out drunk or not home. And the survivors… well." His eyes flickered toward Aria's table. "There weren't any."
Nolan closed his eyes, exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders like iron chains.
Suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen. A detective from forensics was texting him:
"Video from house cameras corrupt. Everything after 3:57AM is static."
Nolan cursed under his breath. "Goddammit."
Leoni sighed. "The killers planned for that, too."
Nolan clenched his fists. "Then we find them some other way."
He stared down the length of the morgue, past the rows of silent bodies.
"They killed seven kids. For no fucking reason And I swear to God—"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I'm going to bury them for it."
Outside, the wind howled across the parking lot. Reporters clustered closer to the door, cameras pointed at the morgue entrance.
Somewhere far away, church bells chimed noon over a city still reeling from blood.