Morning arrived slowly over the city.
A pale gray sky stretched above the buildings as winter clouds drifted silently overhead. The snowfall from the previous night had finally stopped, leaving the streets covered in a thin layer of white..
For most citizens, it looked peaceful.
Christmas decorations glowed warmly across the city. Shops displayed glittering ornaments, artificial snow, and colorful lights.
Families walked along sidewalks carrying shopping bags, preparing for the upcoming holiday.
But behind the festive atmosphere, something darker had begun to spread.
Inside the Central Police Station, the mood was tense.
The explosion from the previous night had shaken the entire department.
Broken glass had been cleaned from the hallways, but the damage to the front side of the building was still visible. Several windows were boarded up, and the street outside remained closed for investigation.
Officers moved through the station with tired expressions.
Many of them had barely slept.
The explosion had not only injured two officers but had also raised a terrifying question.
Who would dare attack a police station?
And more importantly…
Why?
Inside the investigation room, Detective Laura Hayes stood quietly before a large board covered with photographs.
Images of the explosion scene had been printed and pinned across the surface.
The shattered roadway.The massive crater.
Burn marks across the pavement.
And in the center of the board was the strange symbol discovered near the blast site.
A six-pointed shape.A snowflake.
Laura crossed her arms as she stared at it.
Her sharp eyes studied every detail carefully.
The lines were thin but precise, branching outward from the center in perfect symmetry.
It didn't look accidental.
It looked deliberate.
Someone had burned that symbol into the road intentionally.
Behind her, Detective Ryan Cole leaned against a desk while sipping coffee.
Ryan was taller than most officers in the department and known for his sarcastic humor. But today his usual relaxed attitude had disappeared.
He stared at the board with a tired expression.
"You've been looking at that thing for an hour," he said.
Laura didn't turn around.
"It's not random."
Ryan sighed.
"It could just be damage from the explosion."
Laura shook her head.
"No."
She pointed toward the photograph.
"The blast pattern spreads outward from the center. If this was just damage, the lines would be irregular."
Ryan stepped closer to examine it.
She continued.
"But these lines are even."
Her finger traced one of the thin burn marks.
"Which means someone carved or burned this symbol before the explosion."
Ryan frowned.
"You're saying the bomber left a calling card."
Laura finally turned toward him.
"Yes."
Ryan placed his coffee cup down slowly.
"That means this wasn't just an attack."
Laura nodded.
"It was a message."
Before Ryan could respond, the door of the investigation room suddenly opened.
A young officer rushed inside, clearly out of breath.
"Detective Hayes!"
Laura looked at him immediately.
"What happened?"
The officer swallowed nervously.
"There's been another incident."
Ryan frowned.
"Another explosion?"
"No."
The officer hesitated.
"A body has been found."
Laura's expression changed instantly.
"Where?"
"Behind the Riverside parking garage. Two blocks from here."
Ryan straightened.
"Who's the victim?"
The officer looked uneasy before answering.
"…It's one of our officers."
The room suddenly felt colder.
Laura grabbed her coat.
"Let's go."
Ten minutes later, Laura and Ryan arrived at the crime scene.
The Riverside parking garage stood near the edge of a quiet commercial district.
Normally the area was busy with cars and pedestrians.
But today it was sealed off with bright yellow police tape.
Several patrol cars surrounded the entrance, their flashing lights reflecting off the snow-covered pavement.
A small crowd had already gathered at a distance, whispering nervously.
Laura stepped under the tape and walked toward the center of the alley behind the garage.
Forensic teams were already working.
Camera flashes lit the area as investigators documented the scene.
And in the middle of the alley…
A body lay on the frozen ground.
Laura approached slowly.
The victim wore a police uniform.
Snow had begun collecting on his shoulders.
Ryan knelt down beside the body and checked the name tag.
His expression darkened.
"Michael Turner."
Laura recognized the name immediately.
Officer Michael Turner had been a patrol officer for nearly eight years.
Reliable.Quiet.And respected by most of the department.
Ryan sighed heavily.
"He worked night patrol."
Laura crouched beside the body.
Her eyes carefully examined every detail.
Turner lay flat on his back, staring blankly upward.
There were no signs of struggle around him.
No overturned trash cans.
No defensive wounds.But one thing stood out immediately.
A deep cut across his throat.
The wound was clean and precise.Not messy like a street fight.This was
controlled.Professional.
Laura stood slowly.
"This wasn't random."
Ryan nodded grimly.
"No robbery either."
He pointed toward Turner's belt.
The officer's gun was still in its holster.
His wallet remained untouched in his pocket.
Which meant the killer hadn't come for money.
The killer had come specifically for him.
A forensic technician approached them carrying a tablet.
"Detective Hayes."
"What do you have?"
"We estimate the time of death around three in the morning."
Laura frowned.
"That's only a few hours after the explosion."
Ryan crossed his arms.
"So the bomber strikes once… then kills a cop the same night."
Laura looked back at Turner's body.
"It's too convenient."
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"You think the two incidents are connected."
Laura didn't answer immediately.
But deep down, she already knew the answer.
"Detective!"
Another officer called from across the alley.
Laura walked toward him.
"What is it?"
The officer pointed toward the wall of the parking garage.
"There's something you should see."
Laura stepped closer.
At first glance the wall looked normal.
But then she noticed something carved into the concrete surface.
Her eyes narrowed.There it was again.
The same six-pointed symbol.A snowflake.
Exactly like the one discovered near the explosion.
But this time…
There was something written beneath it.
A number. 6.
Ryan stared at it in confusion.
"Six?"
Laura remained silent for a moment.
Her mind raced through possibilities.
Six victims?
Six days?
Then suddenly something clicked.
She looked at Ryan.
"How many days until Christmas?"
Ryan blinked.
"What?"
"Just answer."
Ryan thought for a moment.
"…Six."
Laura turned back toward the symbol.
Her voice became quiet.
"It's a countdown."
Ryan's eyes widened.
"You're serious?"
Laura nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Ryan looked back toward the body of Officer Turner.
"If six means six days…"
Laura finished the sentence.
"Then there will be another victim tomorrow."
A cold wind passed through the alley.
Snowflakes drifted silently around them.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Because the meaning of the message was clear.
Someone had declared war on the police.
And they were counting down to Christmas.
Across the city, inside a dark apartment building, a man sat quietly at a desk.
The room was dimly lit by a single lamp.
The television in the corner played the morning news.
A reporter spoke urgently.
"Authorities have confirmed the discovery of a murdered police officer only hours after last night's explosion outside the Central Police Station…"
The man watched silently.
His face remained hidden in shadow.
On the desk in front of him rested a small black notebook.
Slowly, he opened it.
Seven names were written neatly across the page.
All of them were police officers.
The man picked up a red pen.
Carefully…Calmly…
He crossed out the second name on the list.
Michael Turner
He leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Two down."
His voice was quiet.Emotionless.
Outside the window, the city looked peaceful.
Christmas decorations sparkled along the streets.
Children laughed while walking with their parents.
People carried gifts and bags from crowded stores.
The man watched the scene for a moment.
Then he looked back at the notebook.
Five names remained.
His finger slowly tapped the third name.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Tomorrow," he whispered.
Then he closed the notebook.
The ticking of a wall clock echoed softly in the silent room.
Tick.Tick.Tick.
Outside, the winter sky grew darker as clouds gathered once again.
And somewhere in the city…
Another police officer was unknowingly walking toward his fate.
The countdown had begun.
End of Chapter....