In this dream I am a detective. I'm quite young for someone in my field. Perhaps a prodigy? I'm single, I smoke, and I live in a small house I'm renovating.

Byrne and Drake arrive at the scene of a possible suicide. However, Drake seems to think it was murder. Also, after eight months of working together, Byrne begins to get under Drake’s skin with his childish ways.

“Drake!” I jump at the sound of my name. “Drake, we found another bo—“

Byrne’s voice trails off when he notices I’m on the phone. He stands, intrusively at my door, waiting; arms folded, foot tapping.

“I need to go.” I hang up and glare at him. “What, Byrne? What is so important that you can’t give me two minutes for a personal call on my lunch break?”

Sensing my frustration he cautiously makes his way to my desk where he abruptly sits. “We, my dear, have a possible murder to solve. Now if that is not a pressing enough matter, perhaps a change of career is in order.”

“Get your butt off my desk.” I say as I stand.

“And stop staring at mine!” I bark over my shoulder as I march out of my office.

I can hear him chuckling as we make our way to the car. He stands by the driver side door, hands resting on the hood. I glare at him. “Fine, you can drive” is all he says as he tosses me the keys. His form of both a surrender and an apology.

“The body was discovered about an hour ago by some guy out walking his dog. He says it was suicide. He was shot in the head. The shotgun was found next to his body. They want us to check it out just to be sure.” Byrne fills me in as we drive to the crime scene.

The crime scene is surrounded by overgrown grassy fields with a small clearing close to the road. There are at least three squad cars with lights flashing. One police officer is getting the man’s statement. His dog eagerly trying to get to the body. I give the man a once over and observe him. Just to be sure he’s not the possible murderer.

Another police officer escorts us to the body. He pulls the sheet back revealing a half-blown off head. I crouch to get a closer look. Something about this case doesn’t feel like a suicide. It reeks of a cover up. And rotting flesh. As I examine the body Byrne continues to ramble on about useless stuff. Now that he has a super smart and amazing partner he never does any work. Which I am grateful for. The sooner I prove myself the sooner I can work alone.

“Drake, do you ever smile?” I do my best to ignore him. Sometimes his carefree and fun attitude comes off as more childish and annoying. “Hello? Drake?”

“First of all, my name is Alex, not Drake. Secondly, I am examining what is left of a man’s head who was shot point blank a few days ago. He stinks. It’s disgusting to look at. Why would I be smiling right now?” I return to examining the mush that is left of the man’s head. I will never get used to the smell.

“Good point. However, it’s warm out. The sun is shining. And we, are not dead. That’s reason enough for me, Sunshine. Plus, we’ve been partners for, what, eight months now and I have yet to see you smile. Actually, genuinely smile.”

“So, do you?” He says as he crouches down in front of me.

“What?” I’m examining the victim’s right hand, not really paying attention to what he is saying.


I jump up, “this wasn’t suicide.”

“Wait, how do you know it wasn’t suicide. This looks like a suicide. Single gun shot wound to the head. the gun was in his hand. Plus, you aren’t the coroner.” He follows me into the tall grassy field.

“Aha! Look! Shoe prints. Boots to be specific. Our victim is wearing sneakers.” He crouches down next to me. “Yes, I see them. But how do we know they aren’t from the guy who discovered the body or from before the victim was left here?”

I stand, “first of all, the guy who discovered the victim was also wearing sneakers. ADIDAS to be exact. Secondly, it rained in the weeks prior to the suicide/murder. Any footprints made prior would have been washed away. The man died about three days ago. These footprints are fresh. Either someone was watching or these belong to our killer.”

“Oh”, that’s all he can muster to say as I start walking back to the body.

I smile.

(to be continued…)

– gypsyjess.



Fans of THIS post will be happy to know that I am developing the back stories of my two leads as well as the serial killer/murders. I am also developing future stories (both with the characters and the killer). Not sure when I will have time to actually write more short stories since I will have to come up with these future stories from scratch and not from a dream.

I’m excited though. There are so many directions that these stories can go with the killer and with the two leads.

Keep checking back for future stories!

– gypsyjess.


In this dream I am a detective. I'm quite young for someone in my field. Perhaps a prodigy? I'm single, I smoke, and I live alone in a small house I'm renovating.

In this dream I am a detective who is quite young for someone in my field. Based on my partners remark I am very intelligent, clever, and I’m good at figuring out clues. I’m single, I smoke, and I live alone in a small house I’m renovating. Even though I’m new to my field I seem to be pretty unaffected by the horrors of the crime scene. I am able to look beyond the mutilated bodies, distance myself to keep from getting too emotionally involved, and focus solely on solving the crime.

“Hello?” My voice is hoarse from sleep. What time is it? I wonder as I listen to the aggravated and gruff voice of my partner.

“Hey, get up. We found a body. I need you right away. It might be him.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Ten. Hurry.”

I roll over and check the clock. 4:13am. I groan as I rub my eyes in an attempt to wake myself up from another restless sleep. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, I think to myself as I shuffle to the bathroom to get ready. As I splash cold water on my face I see the images of dead girls in my head. The same images that have been haunting my dreams for the last four months. “I will find this guy”, I say to myself out loud as I stare at my tired reflection in the mirror. I let out a long sigh as I shut off the bathroom light and proceed to get dressed.

I make my way into the chilly fall morning, it should be illegal to be up before the sun, I grumble to myself as I start the engine. The radio plays the soft soothing music of Adele as I head to the scene. Her pained voice singing about lost love only adds to the chilling feeling I get as I arrive at the crime scene. Blue and red lights flash causing me to squint in pain. Giant spotlights flood out what is left of the early morning stars. I park and step out of my vehicle. The air seems colder now. Eerie. Typical of a murder scene. There’s no theme music or funny remarks about bugs at this crime scene. Just the solemn looks of the cops and the relieved but annoyed look of my partner.

“Finally. I was about to call you again. Time of death is believed to be about three hours ago. Her body was dumped here but she wasn’t killed here. We have our people searching the perimeter for tire marks or footprints.” My partner briefs me as he leads me to the body. “Right here. She looks young. College student maybe?”

I nod as I kneel next to the body. She is young. I estimate her to be about twenty-one. Not much younger than myself, I think. Poor girl. I gently move her head to the side. All I see is red. “It looks like blunt force.” I notice her hands, “her fingertips were cut off.” I shout back to my impatient partner. I gently place her hand back in the dirt. I stare at her face. Three hours ago she was alive. Now she’s dead. I will never get used to that. Alive one minute, gone the next. “She was pretty.” I say as I stand up.

“Yea, well, now she’s pretty dead.” I flinch at the comment. My partner has seen a lot more pretty dead girls than I have. He’s been with the bureau for at least twenty years and this job gets to you after awhile. So I let it slide. I stand and stare at her body, my mind whirring. She looks just like the others. But something seems, off.

“Think it was him?” his sudden shouting makes me jump, snapping me away from my thoughts. I shrug. “Can’t tell yet. Same cause of death, same type of girl. Petite, brunette, young. Pretty. Other than that…” My voice trails off as something catches my eye. How did I miss that the first time? I kneel back down and move the waistband of her running shorts.

The mark. I jump up. Frustrated.

“I want this whole area searched. Anything suspicious or out of place I want tagged, numbered, photographed. Everything. Leave nothing to chance. I need to catch this guy.” I shout, aggravated, as I storm off to my car.

My partner walks over to me. “You can’t get so involved. In this job, you need to be calloused. Trust me. You can’t be so sensitive.” I shoot him a look and let out a shaky breath. “I am not getting involved and I am not sensitive. I’m pissed that this guy keeps winning. I’m pissed that I can’t figure him out. Just when I think I have him, BOOM, he switches gears and I have nothing but that damn mark. That one little clue that links all these girls together. No other clue but that–that symbol. I don’t know what it means and I don’t like being bested.” I throw my notebook on the passenger seat.

My partner lets out a long sigh. He understands. This is draining on him as well. “Yea well, you’re a lot smarter and a lot more clever than him. Why do you think the bureau hired you and why I chose you as my partner?” He smiles. Sort of. I shake my head and pull out a cigarette. His mood swings are worse than a girl on her period.

“Those things will kill you, you know?” I shoot him a dirty look and light it. I inhale and instantly feel calm. “So, what’s our next move? Do we have any leads this time?” I say as I let out a long exhale and stare up at the now golden sky.

“Not yet. We have to wait for the crime lab to process the findings. Come on, let’s get some breakfast. And you some coffee. The victim looks more alive than you do right now.”

I laugh and stomp out my cigarette. “Fine but you’re buying. I had to use up most of my savings replacing all the windows and floors in my house last week.” He grumbles, disapprovingly, and shakes his head,”you’re crazy. Why can’t you be like a normal girl and just rent an apartment?”

I turn on the engine and laugh. “Key word: normal.”

– gypsyjess.