Autopsy Of A Mind 18 Running Against Time

"Mr. Butler, wake up," I urged as I pushed his shoulder. I was not in the mood to comment about how perfectly straight his posture was as he slept. It was for another occasion altogether.

He groaned and tried to ignore my calls. Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward to shake him. It almost worked, but the half-conscious Mr. Butler grabbed my wrist and placed it on his cheek to cuddle.

"Sheng Sheng… don't roll around on the bed," he whispered in a daze and snuggled closer. Horrified that he had somehow mistaken me for his lover, I pulled my hand back and snapped at him.

"Mr. Butler!" I called sternly. He opened his eyes to look at me, irritation clear on his face. "They found the bodies," I said. He pushed out of the bed immediately.

"I'll go change," I informed as I moved out of the room, amused by how fast he had overcome his grogginess that morning.

As I dressed, I reflected on his posture. He had been lying on the bed like a log, stiff, his hands placed on his chest, looking like a corpse prepared for the funeral.

Maybe that was the look he was going for. It would suit the sordid humor that came with his profession, I a.s.sumed.

A couple of policemen scurried towards us when we parked the car. They greeted Mr. Butler. I looked away and saw Seth rushing, too. He waved at me, but his expression was sobering. He looked panicked.

"Mr. Butler, we have already found numerous bodies, but we don't know the exact number." I arched a brow, confused about what that meant.

'How do you not know how many… oh.'

"What is the primary report?" he asked, unmoved.

"Bodies have been sectioned into six parts, the head and other limbs separate from the torso. It is not a pretty picture." Seth did look a little unsettled by the sight.

"Miss Lewis, follow me," he said and I gaped at him.

"Mr. Butler, you a.s.sured me that I didn't need to look at corpses," I reminded him. He turned to look.

"It would be a good experience." His nonchalance was infuriating.

"Good choice, Evie. Even seasoned investigators have been a little uncomfortable at the scene. It's better you stay in the car and wait for us." I nodded. As I was turning away I heard Mr. Butler call me.

"Are you really not going?" I nodded. "Pity," he mumbled and then left.

Did he expect me to jump in joy at the prospect of seeing dismantled bodies? How… presumptuous.

I walked back to the car and slid inside. After locking myself in, I gazed outside and watched the flurry of officers running around panicking. There were individuals in scrubs carrying big boxes and into the restricted area. Sometimes, someone would come out in panic and somewhat excited, notifying a man who was clearly in charge of the finding of a new body. It happened about three times while I sat there. Mr. Butler appeared fifteen minutes after the over-excited police officer bearing the news of a new body found.

He knelt down and removed the crime scene slippers… the ones that looked like those surgeons wear, and then removed the gloves. He disposed of them in a bin that had been conveniently placed nearby. He exchanged a few words with the man in charge and then walked over to the car.

"Any developments?" I asked. His expression was neutral, but there had to be something new to report.

"We found the first victim," he replied nonchalantly.

"The single mother?" He shook his head. I imagine my eyes widened in shock.

"This boy was killed at least six months before the other victim, judging from the degree of decomposition. We'll have to wait until the body is removed and put together at the medical examiners'."

'Put together.'

"Judging by your expression, this is a game changer. Why? Was the style of killing different?" I turned towards him fully, leaning forward to listen properly.

He placed his hand on the steering wheel. He tapped it a couple of times, staring out the windshield before beginning to explain.

"We believe that killers are cold-blooded and bold in committing the crime, and that a.s.sumption is not always wrong, but in reality because of the social contract… the restrictions and morals that we have been indoctrinated with, even killers are not confident in committing the crime. They also fear getting caught but can't stop their urge. Killers like this one start with killing people they know… people who they are closely related to… family members, relatives, colleagues, neighbors. It becomes easy for us to locate the killer once the first victim is identified."

He looked unappeased by the find.

"Is there a problem with the body?" I asked apprehensively.

"The most recent kill was about 2 weeks ago." I sc.r.a.ped my brain for why that would be a case altering factor.

The dates of abduction came to mind.

I calculated the difference in times.

The killer commits murder about once in three to four weeks. He lives in a rented place and doesn't earn much… he can only accommodate one captive at a time…

"He's alive." I gasped as the realization came. "We're running against time, now," I whispered to myself. I heard him hum in agreement. The car started then. His voice was calm as he said the next words.

"We're not tracking a killer now, we're rescuing a victim." Something in me snapped. It was a feeling of helplessness, desperation to do something. But I was incapable of such a task. "Let's just hope they find the boy intact. I don't need another perfectly chopped corpse on my hands." He sighed.

The drive was silent. I stared out of the window and wondered if there was a chance for the boy to see another sunrise. I wondered if Sebastian Butler would be able to save his life. I looked at the man in question. I gulped as I felt my heart sink.

I wanted to trust him, but it seemed pointless to trust someone who thought they understood the mind of a killer.