Nobody saw the dark van pull at the mouth of an alley on the corner of Wilson Street and Twine Street. It was already dark, and people were rushing about, rushing home from work or last-minute shopping. Nobody saw a figure clad totally in a black jumpsuit get out of the van. Nobody saw the person open the rear door and drag out a dark plastic bag, then throw it on the ground.
From behind the ski-mask on his face, he looked about checking for any curious eyes fixated on him. Not finding any, he proceeded with his job. Dragging the plastic bag behind him, he stepped into the alley. He realized he could've come at a later time, eliminating the need for discretion. Next dump-site wouldn't be an alleyway, he decided.
He dragged the bag deeper into the alleyway, and stopped when he'd reached the dead end. Undoing the knot at the top, he let the bag fall and watched as a hand slid out of the bag. He proceeded to drag more than half of the body attached to the bag- he didn't feel like taking the garbage bag with him that night.
He positioned the body a certain way, stopped for only a few seconds to check out his handiwork. He fished out a can from his trouser pocket, and sprayed it over the Dumpster behind the body. Smiling at the perfect tableaux he had managed to create, he walked back to his car. He needed a nice dinner and cold beer before his night shift at the hospital.
Nobody saw him get back into the van and drive away.
2 hours later
The man stood at the mouth of the alley, considering his options. The street was empty, except for a few cars on the road. This was the right time to do what he wanted to do, away from the judgmental eyes of other people.
He stepped into the alley, when, only a few steps later, the smell hit him. It was different than the usual smell of urine and garbage characteristic of such places.
"Holy shit! A rat die here or what?" he exclaimed, scrunching his nose and taking out the roll of cocaine from his pocket. Smell or no smell, he had to get his high here.
He walked towards the huge Dumpster which he planned to use as a support, when suddenly his foot hit something solid and he fell down.
"What the hell!" he muttered, as the smell of something rotting hit him so strongly it made him gag. He moved his hands about, trying to get his bearings in the pitch dark surrounding him. And touched something both smooth and solid. First it felt like a hand, then a neck.
He quickly withdrew his hands, somehow managed to sit up straight and fished out his phone from his pocket. He unlocked it, and by the light it emitted, he tried to see what it was that he had fallen on.
Bit by bit, he made out legs, a torso, hands and then he made out a face. Which is when he screamed his guts out.
Fifteen minutes later
"You get any sleep before you came?" Detective Carter asked his partner Ansen Cole as he arrived in his car.
"Nah! Just hit the sack when I got the news. So, is it our missing woman from the mall?" Ansen replied, holding a Styrofoam cup in his hand.
"Don't know. Face missing but it's a woman all right. Will know more when Dr. Styles is done with her," Lance Carter replied.
"Great. So we basically have nothing to go on right now," Cole said warily, taking a sip from his cup.
"No. So we'll just hang out at the station all night, waiting for any other crimes on our watch," Carter replied.
Cole looked at the stretcher being carried into the coroner's van by the people in blue overalls. He wondered who was killing these women, and how many will have to die in this manner before they could catch him.
"Oh, the message from the last time was here this time too. Same damn message," Carter said.
"Great. At least we know this is the same guy who killed Ashley Browne," Ansen observed.
"Yeah, and he's probably on the look-out for his next while we chase our tails here," Carter commented.