Wednesday/October 1st/year2004/6:53pm

"Agent Third," sounded a booming voice from outside Ingrid Third's office. A large man opened the door and entered. He was tall, but it did not make up for his large waste line. He had a black bristly mustache with hair to match it and spectacles that balanced on the bridge of his nose. He was quite a character with an interesting mind. There was a lot misunderstood about him. "There's a case up for grabs. You interested?"

Swiftly, a leather chair swung around revealing the older and beautiful Ingrid Third. She had grown up since her job in the X Middle School Safety Patrol, and had matured nicely. She still had her dangerously daring green eyes and her short, raven colored hair, but she was taller. She was thin, and had all the right curves in all the right places. It was unknown to most why she opted on crime investigation instead of fashion, but everyone she worked with knew she had a knack for solving the tough cases and wouldn't choose any other career even if it meant saving her life. She hadn't failed to solve one case yet and she wasn't about to let a single case offered to her go. "Do I even have to answer?" She asked, a playful smirk telling him her answer.

"No, I guess I shouldn't even bother asking anymore." He said with a sigh, scratching the top of his head with his chubby fingers. "I have to tell you Third this ones a hard one. Three dead bodies, blood completely drained no evidence that actually points us in the direction of a killer."

"Hmm… What about witnesses?" She asked, preparing her bag, getting ready to head over to the crime scene. She was packing all sorts of strange things, tools for taking DNA samples, fingerprints, and bags for collecting evidence. She also packed a camera even though it wasn't necessary for her aid, having a photographic memory, but she needed to provide pictures to her boss, Mr. Rodgerson. Though she could memories every piece of evidence with no difficulty she kept all her case files on her laptop. She also used her miniature black laptop for research.

"A few said they saw a truck park there over night but no screams or anything that would help us out. They didn't even see who walked out of the truck." Mr. Rodgerson said.

Ingrid looked up with slight frustration; this was going to be difficult. "What about suspects?" She asked her eyes back on her packing. "I'm going to need a list of the victim's enemies and so on."

"You can get that yourself, Third. I'm the boss here, not you; I'm not expected to provide you with information. You provide the information to me." He said firmly. Ingrid often got carried away with big cases.

Ingrid rolled her eyes slightly and smirked. "Sorry Rodge." She said, picking up her bag and walking out of her office door.

Mr. Rodgerson's eyes narrowed. "It's Rodgerson, Third." He said, fallowing her, having difficulty keeping up with her naturally fast walking pace. "Not Rodge, Rodgy, or Rodger. It's just Rodgerson!"

Ingrid rolled her eyes again as she walked out to her car, unlocking it with a quick click of the key fob. "Sorry Mr. Rodgerson." She mumbled, chucking her bag into the backseat as she climbed into the front one. She put the key of her black corvette convertible in the ignition and started up the car. "I'll be back late most likely. The investigating might take some time and then there are those witnesses, and possible suspects. Yeah….. I estimate I'll be back around twelve tonight. And then I'll most likely be up all night again….Hmm… I need a vacation sometime in the near future…"

"We'll see." He said in a joking matter as she pulled her seatbelt over her chest. "It all depends on whether you can solve this case."

Ingrid gave him a smirk. "Come on Rodgy, have I ever let you down?" She asked, closing her door and setting the care in drive. Slowly she came out of her parking spot and then sped away to reach the crime scene.

"It's Mr. Rodgerson!" He yelled again, shaking his fist in the air as her car disappeared into the crowded streets of San Francisco.

Wednesday/October 1st/year 2004/7:30pm

The streets were crowded with bystanders as Agent Ingrid Third pulled up to what looked like an old trailer park. There were the sound of sirens blaring and the noisy crowd watching was adding to the noise. Ingrid parked her car and stepped out of it, locking the door the moment it shut. Her green eyes looked around. She didn't like it when crowds gathered. They were always such a problem because they start rumors and sometimes acted irresponsibly. Swiftly, Ingrid walked to an area marked off by caution tape. She entered and instantly had to show her badge to the officers. "Agent Third, San Francisco Crime Investigator." She said quickly, she had become so use to saying it, it was a habit. "Would you please show me the bodies?"

The officer nodded and began to enter the trailer with her. "A very strange case this one. Three bodies but not a trace of evidence." He said, taking her to the living room where the bodies still remained. "We were told not to touch the bodies until you took a look at them."

"Yes, sometimes it helps if the bodies weren't moved. Even the way they land when they fall or where the killer placed them can be important evidence." She said, kneeling next to the young female. Slowly she moved on to the next victim, an older male, at lease in his forties. Next was an older female, thirty-seven or so. They all seemed similar. "Are these three in the same family?"

"Yes." Said the officer, kneeling next to her. "We have discovered the younger one is the daughter of the two older. Neighbors said she doesn't live here anymore but came to visit."

"What a horrible family reunion." She muttered, seeing the officer nod in agreement out of the corner of her eye. She checked over the bodies once more. They were all laying face down, but that wasn't the weird thing. Of course they were drained of all their blood, but they were all also cut in the same place, the throat. She took out a camera and took photos of the wounds. She even tried to draw blood but it wasn't possible, they had been drained of all there blood.

Wednesday/October 1st/year 2004/9:30pm

An hour or two had past and Ingrid was still examining the bodies, the cop had left her alone long before. She had discovered, from the cuts on the neck, that the cuts were made by a butterfly knife, a knife with two handles and one very sharp blade. The research took a while but it wasn't going to Slow Ingrid down. She always carried her laptop computer for research. She stood up and decided it was time to leave the bodies and investigate the house. She looked around the room, the living room was growing dark as the sun ended it's routinely dive beneath the horizon. Ingrid turned on a light and began checking the place for unusual fingerprints, footprints, and strange hairs, but it came up clean. There was something she wasn't catching, there had to be. How could such a hideous crime leave no evidence? "….Drat…" She mumbled and she leaned against a wall. Her eyes began scanning the room.

Suddenly, a loud crack came from behind her, the wall was giving in. Startled by the sudden noise, Ingrid jumped back and quickly turned around. There was a piece of the wall that seemed to be loosely sitting with the rest of the wall, like a puzzle piece. "What the…." She took out her pocket knife and stabbed the wall, pulling the piece out. Slowly she peered into the hole, taking a flashlight out of her bag and shining it into the crevice. A knife was pinned inside the drywall, holding up what looked like a pure white envelope. Pulling on some white latex gloves she removed the knife and the note.

First, she examined the envelope and knife, they were perfectly clean. She tested it for fingerprints but there were none. Gently brushing off the powder from her test she flipped the envelope over. There was a red wax holding the envelope shut, the person who left it had cleverly prevented licking the envelope shut to prevent a DNA test of saliva. But there was something different about the wax that was sealing it. It was a very dark red and had a more crusty texture than a soft waxy one. She decided to take it back and examine it before opening it. After checking the rest of the house with excruciating detail she was ready to leave.

As she walked outside there were still emergency vehicles out, but no civilians. This made her leave much easier for she didn't have to bother to stop and answer to news reporters. She glanced at her bag as she approached the car. Her insides were turning; she wanted to read the letter so badly. It was as if her curiosity was eating at her soul. "Oh, what the heck." She mumbled, pulling her latex gloves back on and taking out the letter. She opened it carefully, making sure not to crack the wax or rip the paper. She pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper with what looked like red colored ink. Slowly she began to read the letter.

Dear Officer Third,

Yes, I know it's you. I know you will be the one reading this letter first. I imagine it must be very startling to see your name in this letter. How daunting it must be to know that the murderer who killed that stupid family knows your name… Spooky isn't it? One of your make questions buzzing through your intelligent cranium right now may be 'how did this individual know I was going to get this case?'…. Just call it a hunch; they always assign the spooky cases to you.

By the way, don't bother checking this letter for fingerprints; I wear latex gloves when I work, just as you do. Also, don't try tracing the ink either, you'll find when you do that you'll just end up at square one.

I'm keeping a close eye on you Officer Third, I have been for some time, longer than you could ever possibly imagine. Where ever you go to do research I'll know you'll be there. If you ask for help, I'll have bios on your helpers instantly. I have my resources Ingrid, there is nothing I can not do, no situation I can not find a way out of, no mystery I can leave unturned. Don't ask how I know things, I wouldn't tell you… Don't ask why, that's a stupid question everyone asks… so let's just leave this topic at that…

I will strike again Ingrid, but don't expect to find out when or where. I've watched you work; I know you don't give in easily, well, neither do I. if you still want to pursue me, I'm up to the challenge, but don't expect it t be easy. I have the intelligence of a computer and the silence of a panther in hunt, I doubt even you will be able to solve this case and find me… If you do, however, manage to find out who I am, or where to capture me don't expect me to back down easily… Like the worker bee, if I am threatened I will strike. If I feel at all threatened by you, Ingrid, I will hunt you down and dispose of you, permanently.

-Your Humble Maniac,

Death's Silence

Ingrid's eyes were wide by the time she had finished reading the letter, and her hand was trembling. She had received threats from people she searched for before but they were never this personal. Her green eyes glanced around nervously in the dark, thoughts raced and buzzed throughout her mind. If this person knew her as well as her or she said they did she could be in big trouble. The contents of the threatening letter perplexed her a bit to. The killer was allowing her to try to catch him or her without a hassle, but if she did run across evidence pointing to a certain individual she would most likely get killed herself. So some how she had to lead this person on and make him or her think she had no idea who he or she was. This was defiantly going to be a troublesome case, but she wasn't about to give in so easily.

Slowly she got into her car, inspecting it with paranoid thoughts. She knew it would be very unlikely that the killer stuck around to tamper with her car but she was going to be careful. She turned on her ignition and cautiously drove out of the trailer park, heading back to the office. She needed to inspect the letter and hopefully gain some information about her all knowing murderer.