“Weird isn’t it.”

“What?”

“That the insides separate. The plain ice from the dark ice as if life is shorn from the inside out.”

They looked at the can, then at her lab coat, then back at the photo.

“This is the strangest one”, she said pointing at the third photo. “Look at how it has split down the middle and then the end is almost twisted off.”

But the next one gave up the ghost much differently, she pointed at the next photo.

As if some rage had followed the initial kill.

“Maybe he’s loosing control,” the shorter man said.

“What do you mean loosing, look at this shit,” the tall man almost screamed. “The killer had to have lost control from day one. This is bullshit! Loosing control my ass, it’s as methodical as it is ill.”

The shorter detective said nothing; after all, his partner was right.