Cop came in. “We gotta DB in a motel room on Seventh,” he said. That was only two blocks over from my body dump. I hope we didn’t have a serial on our hands. Then again, that is the wrong side of town. It isn’t unusually to find murder victims there, but it was odd to find Human/Other murder victims so close together. “Alright, boss. Is Al there yet?” “He’s on his way.” “I’ll meet him there.” Cop walked out, and I grabbed my keys and followed. The Lonely One is a cheap motel in one of the bad parts of Atlanta. When I arrived at room fourteen, I put on my gloves since Al wasn’t there yet. Even though he didn’t dust for fingerprints, he did look for residual magic, and I didn’t want mine mixing with the killer’s. The woman was laid out on the bed like she had been posed. There was a butcher knife sticking out of her chest and blood covering the bed.
