Chapter 2: Human Flesh at the Table

“What’s that?” The meat spread across the table still reeked. Dad covered his mouth and nose, face twisting.

He gagged, turning away from the kitchen table. Even the detective in him couldn’t stomach the smell. The whole house seemed to hold its breath. No one moved.

“Oh, Caleb, hurry up and throw that meat out!” Mom snapped.

She waved him on, desperate to be rid of the evidence. Her voice had that high, frantic edge—like she was trying to scrub the whole day away. She looked wild.

“Don’t bring up Savannah, that jinx! She’s never behaved, always picking on Caleb, who never did anything wrong.”

She shot a glare toward the hallway, as if I might slink out and cause more trouble. Her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I flinched.

“Wait, don’t touch it!” Suddenly, Dad’s horrified shout made Caleb freeze, breaking out in a cold sweat. Time stopped.

Dad’s voice cracked like a whip. Caleb’s hand hovered over the bag, his face draining of color. The room went dead silent. Nobody dared breathe.

Mom flinched, about to smack him in annoyance, when she heard something that made her blood run cold. Everything changed.

Her hand paused midair. The anger drained from her face, replaced by a fear she couldn’t hide. Pure terror.

“Call the police! That’s human flesh!”

Dad’s words were sharp, cutting through the fog of disbelief. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The ordinary became monstrous in an instant. I shivered.

“Frank, haven’t you figured out where that came from yet?”

The question hung in the air, impossible to answer. The kitchen felt smaller, the walls closing in. Everyone stared at Dad.

The major crimes unit worked for several nights straight, but still couldn’t figure out how the meat ended up in our house. No one slept.

They combed through every inch of the place, dusting for prints, scanning security footage. The house became a crime scene—yellow tape and all. Mom hovered in the hallway, wringing her hands, eyes darting.

Not in our house. Unless it was a ghost, there was no way that meat could have just appeared in the home of a veteran detective like Dad.

It was the kind of thing that kept you up at night. Dad paced the living room, muttering to himself, replaying every detail in his mind. The tension was suffocating.

But none of the home security cameras caught anyone bringing it in. Whoever did it must’ve been a master at slipping by unnoticed. It didn’t make sense.

The officers checked every angle, every blind spot. Still, nothing. The sense of unease grew thicker by the hour. You could almost taste it.

“Why would someone send human flesh to my house? What are they after?” Dad asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted.

He looked so tired, the lines on his face deeper than ever. The question haunted him, gnawing at his sleep. He barely ate.

“We’ve got a match, Captain Carter,” the forensic examiner said, face grave.

He held a folder in his hands, his face grave. The whole room seemed to tense, waiting for the verdict. No one spoke.

“The DNA matches the girl we found earlier. It’s the same victim.”

The words landed like a punch. The air grew thick with dread. Mom’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. My heart stopped.

“What?!” The other officers crowded around, voices rising.

Their voices overlapped, everyone desperate for answers. The case had taken on a life of its own. It was all anyone could talk about.

The dismemberment case had everyone on edge; the scene was unbelievably gruesome.

The news had spread fast—neighbors whispered, reporters circled. The city buzzed with fear and morbid curiosity. Everyone wanted answers.

Unfortunately, a heavy rain that night had washed away all the evidence.

The storm had come down hard, erasing footprints, washing blood into the gutters. It was like the sky itself wanted to keep the secret. No clues left.

“Are you sure?” Dad asked, his face grim. He leaned in, searching.

His voice was low, almost pleading. He needed to be wrong, but he wasn’t. The truth was relentless.

Uncle Jeff exhaled, relieved.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes closing for just a second. The relief was fleeting, replaced by fresh worry. It never really left.

“Positive. At least we can be thankful that there’s only one victim in the headless-girl case.”

The words hung heavy, a thin comfort in a sea of horror. No one looked reassured.

...

The silence was thick, everyone lost in their own thoughts. No one dared break it.

“But there’s no guarantee there won’t be another.”

A clear, pleasant voice spoke up, and everyone turned to see the new intern—Julian Price. The room shifted, attention snapping to him.

He stood just inside the doorway, his hands in his pockets. His eyes were sharp, missing nothing. There was a confidence about him that set him apart, even among the veterans. He looked young, but he carried himself like he belonged.

He was pale, handsome, and very young, but sharp as a tack.

His hair fell into his eyes, but he pushed it back with a quick flick. He looked like he belonged in a college classroom, not a crime scene. But his mind worked at double speed. You could see it.

“We need to find out exactly where the murder took place, and find the rest of the body, so we can identify the girl.”

He spoke with authority, his words slicing through the uncertainty. Even the older detectives listened. He had presence.

It was a small, knowing smile—like he already saw the answer, just out of reach. It made you uneasy.

“That’s the only way we’ll get a breakthrough.” He let the words hang.

I watched him, and for a moment, he looked strangely familiar. Déjà vu prickled my skin.

Something about the way he moved, the way he held himself. I couldn’t place it, but it sent a chill down my spine. My gut twisted.

“Don’t you think Julian is a little too eager about this case?” Dad muttered, sipping his coffee. He kept his voice low.

“Who, Julian? He’s a top student—of course he’s eager to get promoted,” Uncle Jeff shot back.

He grinned, nudging Dad with his elbow. “You remember what it was like, right? Eager to prove yourself?” He winked.

“Whatever, I’m just glad we’ve got a closer on the team,” Dad sighed.

He leaned back in his chair, trying to shake off the worry. But his eyes never left Julian. He couldn’t relax.

“By the way, I haven’t seen your Savannah in days.”

Uncle Jeff’s voice was gentle, almost apologetic. He always looked out for me, even when no one else did. He cared.

“Don’t mention her. She ran away again and split Caleb’s head open!”

Mom’s voice was sharp, her anger flaring up at the mention of my name. She wouldn’t let anyone forget. The old anger burned.

“If she doesn’t want to come home, she can stay gone forever. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a daughter!” Dad said coldly. All I could do was stare at him, stunned. My heart cracked.

The words hit harder than I expected, even now. I felt the room spin, the world tilting just a little further away. Everything blurred.

A wave of sadness rose from deep inside me. It swallowed me whole.

It started in my chest and spread outward, a cold ache that wouldn’t let go. I wanted to scream, to beg for a second chance, but I was nothing more than a whisper. Invisible.

Dad, it’s not that I don’t want to come home. I can’t come home anymore.

I reached out, my hand trembling, but it passed right through the kitchen counter. The truth was a wall I couldn’t climb. I was stuck.