Against his gloved fingertips, the cardboard was tough, rigid.

“Well,” said Tyler. “Does this mean anything?”

Cael considered it for a second.

The object in Cael’s hand was a Jack of Hearts playing card.

“No idea,” he said.


5

 

 

In Tyler’s police vehicle, the two detectives sat for a moment in silence. Eventually, Tyler pulled out a package of cigarettes. He took one out and held it to his lips.

“Want one?” he asked.

“Not for me,” replied Cael, “I’m off the smokes.”

“Shame. If you were smoking, I would too.” Tyler returned his cigarettes to his pocket. Instead, he pulled out a vaporizer.

“On the vapes?” asked Cael. “Since when did you become a hipster in your early 20s?”

“Fifteen years ago, when I was in my early 20s.”

“Good one.”

“Anyway, do you want in?” asked Tyler.

Cael looked at him and laughed. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Because the answer is yes or because the answer is no?”

“A woman has been cut in half, displayed in a public forest, and the killer is using a Jack of Hearts as his calling card. This is like Christmas to me. Tell the chief I’m in.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Let’s get to the office. You can fill in all your paperwork noise when we’re there.”

“You can drive,” said Cael.

“You never answered my question, by the way.”

“No, you don’t blow, it’s just called that.”

“Good one. You know what I mean.”

“I do, and yes, I do know. It’s very difficult to cut someone in half, especially as clean as the victim was.”

In the past, Cael’s initial theories had been the police’s investigative starting point. Psychological profiling wasn’t a big business in the UK, and due to the lack of serial murders in the country, it wasn’t often required. Crimes of passion constituted most of the country’s murders, followed closely by gang deaths, suicides and robbery homicides. When ultra-violent crimes raised their heads, or crimes that were indicative of a possible serial case, Cael Adler’s skills were required.

The two detectives drove through the barren London backstreets. It was Sunday, March 5, 2017. A newly-arrived scent of spring filled the evening air, although both Tyler and Cael were still recovering from the unmistakable scent of death.

Cael held up the Jack of Hearts playing card. Tyler interrupted his train of thought.

“Any ideas?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m thinking.”

“Yep. Gambling.”

“First of all, I was thinking coffee. But after that, yeah, gambling.”

“You said the magic word,” said Tyler.

In a late-night coffee shop in Soho, Cael and Tyler refreshed themselves via caffeine overdoses. Tyler, as always, opted for the vanilla latte, while Cael requested coffee as black as the night itself.

Darkness began to set in outside. London was retiring for the evening.

“I didn’t interrupt you earlier, did I?” asked Tyler.

“A little. I was out with a lady.”

“Another one? What happened to the last one?”

“You know how it goes. Move in together. Avoid each other. Separate. The circle of life.”

“What about this new one, then?”

“I’m not sure.” Cael took a drink of his coffee then looked directly at Tyler. “Teacher.”

The look on Tyler’s face was one of reluctance.

“Exactly.”

Tyler’s phone buzzed in his pocket.