Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK96FDM5QNJZZQRRDWBG8YB

Rain smeared the city lights. Detective Mara Quinn watched silently. Patrol cars jittered with reflections. The river carried oily secrets. Tonight, one surfaced without consent. They'd found him under Pierseventeen. Not floating; nailed beneath ladders. Mara ducked beneath the tape. Cold mist pearled on eyelashes. The uniformed sergeant looked shaken. He offered gloves, avoided conversation. Mara snapped them on carefully. The body's suit was expensive. Cufflinks glinted like tiny mirrors. His throat was neatly opened. No blood stained the boards. It had been raining hours. Everything should've washed red downstream. Instead, the planks remained clean. Someone killed him somewhere else. Then brought him here ceremoniously. Mara studied the careful nails. Four spikes, equidistant, stainless steel. A crude cross, disturbingly precise. The tide lapped, whispering measurements. Somewhere above, traffic hummed obliviously. Mara finally asked the sergeant. “Who discovered him, what time?” “Fisherman, around four this morning.” “Name's on the report, Lieutenant.” She crouched, searching his pockets. Wallet missing, phone still present. Locked screen displayed one notification. Unknown number: one unanswered call. Time matched the fisherman's story. Mara pocketed the cold device. “Get me prints from pilings.” “And pull cameras along Riverside.” Her partner, Jensen, arrived breathless. He studied the arranged corpse. “You sure this isn't theater?” Mara answered without looking up. “Theater sells tickets, not coffins.” Wind shifted, carrying something sour. Jensen sniffed, face tightening slightly. “Smell that? Industrial, maybe bleach.” Mara tasted the air thoughtfully. Somewhere pipes hissed beneath concrete. “Killer cleaned him,” she murmured. “Then chose this place deliberately.” Sirens wailed farther along riverfront. Another crime scene, or ambulance. Mara felt timing coil tight. One body rarely walked alone.