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With her eyes, comes my sight.
Agent Morgan Anderson of the FBI was at the Ritz-Carlton on 160 East Pearson Street at Water Tower Place Chicago, Illinois. The sixth victim on the fourth floor of yet another hotel. Anderson was walking around the body of a young Asian woman. She crouched down, her black, flat slip on shoes that zipped on the outside, were covered in surgical booties of thin material the color of blue-green. Small hands were gloved in white latex. CSI and forensics already came in and took photos and bagged evidence. She'd watched the whole process and was still currently waiting for her new partner from the New York division of the FBI, one Agent Robby Ferrell, to come in for the meet, greet. In the mean time, she passed the time by looking around, currently, before the paramedics came in to take the body to the city morgue, she was looking at said body. Noticing the bruising, the cuts, the mortal wound that ended this young life.
Documents had been found in the hotel room, revealing that the young woman had come from Beijing, China one month ago and had her Visa card as she was looking for work, and had already put in an application to become a U.S. citizen. The wound that killed 22 year old Chen Li Jiao was caused by a ceremonial knife, at least, it was presumed to be a ceremonial knife, the blade was all that was left with this victim, and the last one and the others before, curved slightly at the middle for a crescent shape, with it coming to a very fine point. The handle had been taken, the blades left behind. The blade had been taken out from the dead woman's back. It had pierced first her left lung, then her heart, blessedly killing her the instant it went through the cardiovascular muscle, then her eyes were cut out.
There had been a struggle though. She knew she'd been in danger in her last moments. That in itself tore at Morgan. Knowing that the victims were terrorized just moments before their death. Knowing the killer was out there still, stalking his next victim. She sighed and tucked a lock short dark brown hair behind an ear, dark eyes surveying the bruising. Both defensive and offensive. Mostly defensive. She looked over to one of the detectives from the local P.D. "I'm expecting another FBI agent any minute, can you get someone to let me know when he gets here?" The local detective bristled at her request but sent a uniform to keep an eye out and radio in when the other Agent came in.
She stood up and started walking around the room. Charcoal gray slacks and jacket fit her snugly, doing nothing to hide her curves, yet gave her more than enough room to move around and fit her Glock 22 in the holster at her right hip. Under the jacket was a light green blouse that buttoned up the front, the collar was folded over the jacket, making a nice contrast to the charcoal gray. Dark brown, almost black, eyes looked around the room, searching for the calling card that would provide the next clue to who the Ceremonial Killer was. The serial murderer was called as such because the information about the blade had leaked out, along with the intricate designs. Originally the title was The Harvester, but since the last victim, it had changed. She had found out who leaked the information out and the cop was on suspension.
The room was cluttered, trashed even. The wall above the bed had intricate designs painted in red, she knew it was the victim's blood. They'd found that from the five previous scenes.
Morgan lowered herself to her knees and bent down to look under the bed and night table, there it was. Red envelope. Still wearing her gloves she pulled it from under the nightstand, flipped the unsealed envelope and pulled the ragged edged, thick parchment out. It had been folded in half, so she unfolded it and read:
Agent Anderson furrowed slender brows together as she tried to make sense of that line. There were five others before it, but it just didn't make any sense. She knew it to be something along the lines of a summoning chant or spell, she had a friend in the occult division who happened to see the first four lines she brought in from the scenes, and that was what he guessed it to be. It made sense, in an odd way.
In each victim something on them was missing. One girl it was her lungs, another her heart, yet another they ended up having to wait on DNA analysis to confirm an identity because she'd been skinned, the fourth ended up missing her kidneys postmortem, the fifth her hair, the poor woman had been scalped, again, thankfully all of these were after they'd been killed. Now the sixth, her eyes were missing.
What was this guy doing? What was their purpose? Could he or she possibly be doing with all these parts?