The rain fell hard on the cobblestone streets below. A single streetlamp flickered weakly in the cold night air. Detective Elias Carter adjusted his damp overcoat with a sigh. His breath formed small clouds as he exhaled into the darkness. The crime scene tape fluttered like a ghostly warning ahead. A uniformed officer stood guard, his face pale under the dim light. "Another one, sir," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain. Carter stepped closer, his boots splashing through shallow puddles nearby. The victim lay sprawled across the wet pavement, motionless and still. Blood pooled around her, dark and glistening under the streetlamp’s glow. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in a silent scream of terror. A silver locket rested on her chest, its chain snapped cleanly in two. Carter crouched down, his gloved fingers hovering just above the evidence. Something about this felt different—too precise, too calculated to ignore. The killer had left no footprints, no traces of a struggle behind.