CHAPTER 1- BLIND GUILT

"Ahhhhhhh! Damn!" Phillips hollered, stumbling back as his eyes locked on the lifeless body sprawled across the floor. His heart raced, and he clutched the doorway, breath coming in sharp bursts. His voice cracked again. "No, no, no..."

He had just come to visit a friend. Instead, he found a crime scene.

Moments later, red-and-blue lights flashed through the windows. Police sirens wailed to a stop. Officers flooded in, cordoning off the area with yellow tape. A crowd gathered, whispering, murmuring, some filming on their phones. Reporters shoved mics forward, hungry for details.

A black SUV rolled up. The door opened, and a man in his early 30s stepped out—calm, focused, dressed in plain clothes with a badge clipped to his belt. He flashed his ID. The officers nodded sharply and stepped aside.

"Detective Scott," one officer said.

Scott gave a tight nod and scanned the scene. His voice was low but commanding.

"What’ve we got?" he asked, stepping over the threshold.

"No forced entry," said Officer Ray, a younger cop with sharp eyes and a nervous energy. "Door was unlocked. What’s your read, sir?"

Scott’s expression tightened. He slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, crouched beside the body, and examined it closely. His face barely moved, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—took in every detail.

"Means the victim let 'em in. Willingly."

"So… someone he knew?" Ray asked, brow furrowed.

Scott stood and looked around the modest living room. Everything was in place—no sign of a struggle.

"Yeah. Someone who could walk right in, no questions asked."

Ray’s eyes widened. "Sir—you should see this."

"What is it?" Scott walked over, dusting off his gloves.

Ray knelt near the victim’s hand and gently pried it open. Inside was a folded scrap of paper.

"He was holdin’ onto this."

Scott unfolded it. His brow lifted.

"John 9:41," he read aloud, voice low, almost to himself.

"What do you make of it?" Ray asked, leaning in.

Scott’s jaw tensed. "Could be a clue. Dying grip like that? He wanted someone to find it."

Outside, the detectives turned to check the building's surveillance cameras. Scott peered up, squinting into the sunlight. A tech was already shaking his head.

"No good. Been dead for two weeks," he muttered.

Ray kicked the pavement in frustration. "Great. Just great."

Suddenly, Scott pointed across the street.

"That car. Hasn’t moved, has it?"

They jogged over. A neighbor stepped out onto his porch.

"Yeah, that one’s been sittin’ there for days," the man said. "Guy’s outta town. Back tomorrow, I think."

Scott sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"We’ll be back then," he said, already walking off.

Back at the station, a few hours later, Ray returned with the autopsy report. His face was tight, tired.

"Got the report, sir."

Scott flipped through it, eyes scanning fast.

"Same as the scene. Nothing new." He dropped the file on his desk and leaned back. "John 9:41… any idea what that means?"

"Maybe a code?" Ray offered, half-heartedly.

Scott snapped, tone clipped. "Code? C’mon, Ray." He grabbed his phone and made a call.

A voice answered on the second ring. "Long time, Detective."

"Skip it. I need a favor."

"Shoot."

"Check our database for anything on ‘John 9:41.’"

"Wait—like, the Bible verse?" the voice asked, confused.

Scott blinked. "The what now?"

"Yeah, it’s a Bible verse. Didn’t know that?" the guy chuckled.

"No. That helps. I’ll call you later."

Ray was already typing.

"Got it—‘If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.’"

Scott stood slowly, processing. "That’s guilt. Judgement. He saw something he shouldn’t’ve."

"Saw what?" Ray asked.

Scott’s voice dropped. "A murder."

Ray’s eyes widened. "You serious?"

Scott didn’t answer. He was dialing again.

A few minutes later, a digital file popped up on his screen. He opened it, jaw tightening as he read.

A previous case. Two victims. Brutal stabbing. Blood smeared on the wall with the words Deuteronomy 20:10–12.

Ray read aloud again, slower this time. "‘If a man commits adultery with another man's wife… both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death.’"

Scott’s hand curled into a fist on the desk.

"Same damn signature. It’s him."

"You’re sayin’… this guy’s a serial killer?" Ray asked, voice low, almost whispering.

Scott looked him dead in the eye.

"Yeah. And he thinks he’s God’s damn executioner."

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***