The detective paces frantically back and forth in his office; the case file sprawled open on his desk. It’s a difficult one. The worst one he’s seen in his 30 year long career. This case has kept the detective up all night since it happened almost a year and a half ago. A young woman, late 20’s, was brutally murdered behind a nightclub and stuffed in a dumpster. It took investigators hours to locate most of her body parts, but due to extreme damage of the corpse, there has been no identification of the body. There were no fingerprints, no DNA, no weapons, and no leads. This person knew what they were doing. An autopsy of the parts they collected showed that the girl was drugged and that the killing blow was a strike to the head. The detective sits in his chair and stares longingly out the window of his office before there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” the detective calls out and the door opens as he spins around in his chair. It’s his sergeant; he looks frustrated and stressed with large bags under his eyes.

“Anything?” The sergeant exhaustingly pleads, hoping for something new.

“No sir. Nothing. No new evidence since the day it happened,” the detective sighs, looking down at his desk as he stares at the pictures of the body.

“We have no choice then. We’ll have to call the case cold,” the sergeant says solemnly. The detective stands quickly and slams his hands on the table.

“Sir, are you sure?! What if there’s something we missed?! What if-“

“Sit down detective! My choice is final. The case is closed!” The sergeant snaps. He looks at the floor and rubs his temples with one hand before calmly continuing, “We have more cases, detective. This case can’t hold our attention any longer.” He leaves, closing the door firmly behind him. As the detective places the evidence back in the file, he can’t help but feel a smile creep onto his face. A cold case means they won’t be searching for evidence. They’ll never know. Maybe that bitch shouldn’t have rejected him.