Detective Chloe Ting was a woman of means. In her early thirties she was more accomplished than her peers of a higher rank. She by many would have been described as attractive in the most conventional manner.
Her straight blonde hair was always drawn back in a pony tail that moved in a pendular motion every time she walked. Her eyes were blue but lacked the warmth of an ocean instead were opases of cold ice. Her back was always taunt with tension, as was her belief in it. She never slouched. She never bent. Something her teenage daughter lacked. Chloe despised that.
Good postures made sure you did not turn into a sloth. As did daily exercise. Two things she strongly believed in.
She voluminous hips that swayed with an undertone of sensuality as she walked out of her car to the outside porch of the yellow taped house. Her eyes fell on the spatter of blood that painted the front porch of the man's house.
The owner of the house was Dr. Emanuel Grey. A cardiologist in his late thirties. He was one of those men that aged well. His soft handsome feature made him look like a man in his early twenties, betraying his experience and age. Or the skill with which he held a scalpel.
He had woken up to the sound of a growl in the middle of the night, just an hour ago to find his porch painted the way it was. He opened the door to see what it was only to be greeted by a stench he could scarcely recognize but what he did say was the air held an ominous feeling, like something really bad happened. He said there was complete silence.
Because of the darkness he had not paid much attention to the blood, which was until he walked inside his house to find his palms colored in a fashion the same as that of the house. Looking closely he realized that it was blood. Being a doctor, he was accustomed to blood, so he calmly walked out again, switched in the lights and made a call to the police station.
He did not look shaken or worried, but given his profession one scarcely would. On first glance Chloe had a similar impression as that of the doctor, that a dog might have killed a cat of something. The dragging marks of the body from the scene of crime seemed consistent with that of an animal.
Dr. Emmanuel had simply called to be on the safer side. By now, they had found the dead body of a cat, violently mangled where the trail of blood had ended.
Chloe was not even needed or asked to work on this case; she had simply come here out of lack of excitement. Something about the case seemed off. She agreed with Dr. Emmanuel here, there was an ominous air hanging low in the air tonight and an eerie silence dominating the place.
Almost as if it had seen an unspeakable horror. One it wished to share, but was unable. Bound by the linguistic deficiencies of nature, it spoke in its own way. Almost like a warning.