Please excuse me as this is my first attempt and a first draft at that.  I plan on changing the murder scene a bit as the body placement seems a little cumbersome to write and improbable at best.

    As they walked down the narrow pathway, it was clear that someone had recently desecrated the forgotten place. As they inched closer along the pungent acrid smell of decaying flesh filled their nostrils and tipped their stomachs. It was clear that the killer had meant to create a spectacle as they entered the bomb shelter turned tomb. Unused and forgotten for years it was now the alter for what would become the benchmark of Detective Paisley Chase’s budding career.The scene was spectacular and it was clear that the killer had taken his time to perfect his masterpiece. This wasn't his first victim, and it was clear that it probably wouldn't be his last as he was clearly escalating in his pace and grandeur of the victims and the state in which he left them. 
    Paisley was the average sort, with her mousy brown hair and crooked nose from her years of playing sports as a youth, she could easily be the girl next door. Well, that is, if the girl next door happened to be an expert marksman and experienced bomb technician. Determined to make a name for herself and to honor her father’s memory, Paisley threw herself into the field and quickly earned the respect of her peers, commendations from her superiors and flew through the ranks. 
    The killer was careful and it was hard to see if anything was left out of place other than the awkward position of the body.  The boy was young, too young to die such a gruesome death at the hands of this monster which lit the fire that was always stoked when it came to the death of those too young to have suffered the fate at hand. Death was what made her become a cop in the first place. 
    The boy appeared to be in his mid-teens with a surfer boy haircut and those god awful skinny jeans, why boys wear pants clearly made for a girl was beyond the detective but it didn’t mean the child deserved to be the victim. Once again the killer was trying to send a message as he had tied the boy to a frame after splitting the tender young flesh and solid bones of the boy’s arms and legs so precisely to mimic the great DaVinci’s Perfect Man. The precision in which the arms and legs were cut and turned to mimic the image always took her aback. How could one person have committed so many of these murders and never leave enough evidence to get caught over the fifteen years he’d been at work. It just didn't seem that it would be possible to be so precise and clean with each kill. As was the killers signature, the handmade frame’s backing contained the puzzle pieces revealing the boys identity. The killer always put the puzzles on the backside of the frame.
    As the counties new hot shot coroner made his way down the hall Detective Chase could do nothing but admire the precision of the puzzler’s latest masterpiece and loathed the knowledge that to identify the boy would take so many man hours. The media was calling him the Perfect Man Puzzle Killer, or the PMP Killer for short, and as the media attention grew so did the size of the puzzles he left behind. The last victim had had a 1,500 piece atrocity attached. It took days to get the information they needed to identify the man, who ever dreamed up a puzzle of nothing but digital camouflage was a sadist. Paisley’s stomach dropped as she seen the neatly wrapped box full of puzzle pieces sitting on the floor. As she and the crime scene technicians opened the box and found that the puzzle was nothing but 2,000 pieces of polka dotted pieces her heart sank to her feet. 
    “Sir, we've got to get help with this one,” the crime scene technician cried as she saw the scene at hand. “I believe it’s time to call in the big shots for the assist”.
    “I think you’re right, I've already spoken with the bureau and they’re sending a guy down first thing in the morning, Detective Chase is going to be our point person and liaison to the Bureau and on all matters regarding this case and the other victims.”
    “But sir, do you really think that’s a good idea? She’s involved” the tech whispered back to his supervisor.
    “Not only am I qualified to handle this case, I’m the best dick for the job,” Paisley shot back over her shoulder. “NO ONE knows this guy better than I do.”

    "That may be right but you're personally involved, he got your dad ten years ago and your partner last year, he's sending you a message and I don't think it's a good idea for you to continue on the case, I really think you should be with the Marshall's and sitting this one out Paisley, for your own good."

    "It's because of my involvement with the victims that I need to stay on this case, you'll never catch him if I don't help you with what I know, wait till the FBI guys get here, I'm sure that they'll agree with me on this one.  Hell if you'd have listened to me seven years ago Captain we'd probably already have this guy and Cruise would still be here." 

    Detective Landon Cruise has been Paisley's partner from the beginning of her career with the department. He wasn't always a detective but then again neither was she, they'd learned and grown together on the force and through their careers. Landon had been her best friend and confidant for as long as she cared to remember until the night he was taken.  He'd helped her cope with her father's murder and her mother's suicide, the death of her marriage, and never judged her for any of the ways she coped. She'd been there for him too, his brother was killed on the job in Chicago, and had even went with him to the funeral when his boyfriend couldn't get the time off work. It was still hard for her to imagine him being gone. There were still nights when she'd wake up and instinctively call his number only to hear the same voice mail message she'd heard a million times before and to know he'd never get the messages she had left for him. She and Ted had been paying to keep the line active just to be able to hear his voice still when they had a bad day, Ted had recently met someone but he hadn't told her yet but she knew.  She always kept up with Ted, it was a promise she made to Landon long before and would remain keeping until her last breath.

    Cruise's death had given them valuable information about the killer though, she was on the phone when he was abducted and heard the killers voice. It was one she'd never forget. She'd heard Cruise take his last breath as the needle full of solvents was being plunged into his jugular. She'd heard the killer's promise to her as he hung up the phone.  "Paisley, my dear sweet Paisley, when are you going to come see me. I've been waiting. I guess this fag will have to do, have you fucked him too? Such a sweet face, I'll take my time with him, he'll be perfect, but then again aren't they always. I have so many plans for us when you finally come to me, maybe I'll take Patrick next, I'm sure you still love him, you know he hasn't been out much lately, still reeling from you leaving him I assume. He still loves you, you know?"  He was the reason she was back with her ex-husband, if only to protect him. She couldn't let another man she loved be his victim.  The puzzle he'd left with Cruise had been her wedding photo. 

    Why was it so hard for her to just leave Patrick alone, they'd had a rocky romance from the start. He cheated on her when they were dating and yet he always seemed to wiggle his way back into her life. She broke up with him and had seen another man and was engaged and somehow he still managed to wiggle his way back in. After that she gave up on trying to edge him out and the two were married in a small private ceremony in the garden at her Aunt Honey's house. The marriage was decent, at least he figured out a way to keep it in his pants, although his pornography collection was constantly expanding. Guess when you're wife's a detective you learn that she's good enough to find out.  Paisley finally called it quits after her Chicago trip with Landon. Landon and her had been so close people thought they were married and they couldn't help but joke "maybe in another life", he'd shown her that she could be happy and have the life she wanted without Patrick. She filed for the divorce less than a week after her trip and he never fought it once. Now here she was living with him and playing house all over again. She would always love him, but not in the way he wanted. He always wanted her but not in the way she deserved. They'd never work long term. They both knew it but he was scared and the divorce had wrecked him financially so he let her protect him and they tried to be upbeat about it. How upbeat could Patrick truly be knowing someone was hunting him though. 

    The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, now they'd been playing house for over a year. She was used to being able to come home to him.  She'd probably miss him if something were to happen to him. She couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason she hadn't caught the PMP Killer yet. The PMP Killer, she always giggled to herself when she seen an article about it, he had to hate being the pimp killer, he was egotistical, he couldn't enjoy the name and the resulting humor from it. Everyone who knew Landon would never describe him as a "pimp" so it was strange being that he was killed by the PMP Killer, even though the abbreviation and name were nothing related it still made her giggle. She hated that about herself. She could never take anything as seriously as it needed to be. 

    The boys from Quantico arrived the next morning. Long after everyone had left the scene and the body had been transported to the morgue, they finally arrived. "Took you boys long enough to show up," Paisley chided from her desk chair as she stared at the newly enlarged murder board she'd had going for the past few months.  It was a new technique to her still, she'd seen it on a TV show somewhere and decided that it might actually be more useful than having the files boxed up in the conference room.  Sad that the board and her desk had been moved to the conference room because of the last two deaths in the case. She had hoped that after Landon there'd be no more victims, and then there were two more.  "He's accelerating, usually at least a year between murders and here we've had three in less than two? Techs are downstairs in the cafeteria trying to put together the latest puzzle. Still haven't been able to identify the victim through missing persons or by AFIS."

    Paisley stared at the pictures on the board for hours without saying a word on so many days prior, to have a new case on there was disrupting her thought process. She stared at the new face for at least an hour and then it hit her.  "His name is Gabe Matthews, he was a witness to the disappearance of the fourteenth victim. He's only eighteen, and he's a good kid." How had she not recognized him sooner? It hadn't been that long since she'd last seen him, how much could the boy have really changed in three years. His hair was shorter then and still that cherub blonde, he'd gotten his braces off and lost some baby fat, but she still should have recognized him sooner than this.  Where were his parents? Weren't they worried about him?  

    Gabe Matthews was a quiet boy from a quiet neighborhood who never got into trouble unless he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In February of 2013, Gabe happened on one of those times.  As he was riding his bike home from baseball practice, he witnessed the abduction of David Sterling. David was a slender man, in his early twenties who was home after another failed attempt at college away from home. David couldn't seem to stay away from two things, women and booze. He was a regular at the corner bar and the drunk tank at the local police department. Never wanted to be in trouble but just couldn't seem to keep his mouth closed when he had had a few in him. 

       Gabe had made varsity that year, the youngest boy on the team with the most to prove. He worked hard long after practice which meant he was on his way home just at the moment that David was being abducted.  He didn't see much, and what he did see made him afraid to talk to anyone, let alone the detectives that came around questioning everyone who was known to be in the area at the time, a surveillance camera had caught a glimpse of Gabe on his bike coming home from practice going in the direction of the last known place David had been. Gabe had only seen David a few times in passing and usually the only exchange between them was David yelling obscenities at him as he rode by on his way home.  Damn drunk couldn't find someone his own age to pick on, Gabe had enough problems of his own without any help from him. He caught hell from the other guys on the team since his uncle was the coach. 

    The air was cold, you'd think it'd be a little warmer living in Florida but this was basically lower Alabama, but this winter wasn't bad, it just seemed to be sticking around longer than usual. As he rode along his usual path he noticed that there were people fighting in the alley, not wanting to get involved but wondering if he knew the people he slowed down as he rode down the street towards the scuffle. He knew it was David by that ridiculous sweatshirt he'd taken to wearing this winter, really, who over the age wears a "Cool Story Babe, now go make me a sandwich" hoodie. It was just dumb, and to make it even more stupid he couldn't get a girl to make him a sandwich if he paid them. True story, he'd been kicked out of the local sub shop twice without a sandwich because he was so belligerent. His mother always told him "You can't fix stupid" and this was no exception, he felt sorry for the guy so he yelled at the assailant but it was too late, David slumped to the ground as the man started coming towards Gabe.

    Gabe knew something was terribly wrong in the situation and took off as fast as he could, only glimpsing back once to see if he was still being followed. Thankfully he wasn't.  He had never ridden his bike home so quickly, and was sure he could have been driving and still wouldn't have made it back home as fast as he did that night. He put his bike in the shed instead of its usual place in the driveway that night afraid that the man may still be looking for him, not knowing that he was the last thing currently on the man's mind as he was busy with his dissection of David Sterling. 

    Gabe never planned to come forward with what he saw, especially after seeing in the news the following week that David had been a victim of the PMP Killer. His death toll was at fourteen now and Gabe didn't plan on being number fifteen, little did he know or would he have ever imagined that he would actually be victim seventeen. Gabe wasn't expecting the detectives to show up at his practice, or to even know who he was. Apparently the detectives had been very busy doing their jobs and had found him by asking the administration at the high school if they recognized the boy from the surveillance photo. Damn his luck for living in a small town, they found him within three days of finding the body. Apparently he wasn't the only one in the surveillance footage, they had images of David walking by just a half hour before him, on his way to his nightly perch at the corner bar. When he hadn't shown up the bartender was concerned, after two nights in a row she had called his number only to reach voice mail, by the third day she went by his parents house and they had thought he was out on another bender. When police found his body the next week, they had the timeline. 

    When Detectives Cruise and Chase came to the ball field that afternoon he knew they were going to try to find out everything they could from him. He knew he wasn't ready to talk about it, but those beautiful blue eyes that Detective Cruise had pierced his soul he had no choice but to open up about everything he saw that night and his fear that he could be next. If the detectives had found him so quickly and easily who was to say the killer couldn't too. While the information he did get to the officers was helpful it just wasn't enough to get a good sketch of the man to the media, no tag numbers on the vehicle, nothing really other than he knew he was a white guy wrestling with David in the alley. When he left the station that afternoon he had no idea the killer was watching, he didn't give it much thought, he was no help with the case, he couldn't identify the killer, so why was he any real concern for the killer, or at least that's what he was thinking. 

    Gabe did well that season, he'd lost weight with all the extra practice, toned up and was hitting a growth spurt.  His braces would be off soon, he was excited. Girls were starting to notice him, but they weren't what he was interested in. He stopped in to see the detectives every few weeks, mainly to check out Landon and those beautiful blue eyes and that perfectly chiseled chin, he was infatuated with him. At the funeral he was inconsolable. A few months after the funeral he decided it was time to come out of the closet finally.  Gabe was happy, he'd met a guy at school, of course he was the stereotypical theater club kid. Flamboyantly gay and more than a little excited to have the captain of the baseball team as his boyfriend.  As the months went on Gabe started to change his boy next door looks into the darker skater boy look that his boyfriend seemed to fancy. 

    Gabe was standing outside the local flower shop when he felt the needle being plunged into his neck, he never even see the guy come up behind him. As he was fading into the darkness, he heard a familiar whisper in his ear that made his skin crawl "Gotcha little fag boy, won't Paisley be excited to see you after all this time." As he was pushed into the back of the catering van, he could smell the aroma of chicken parmesan and fresh bread. It kind of made him wish he'd eaten dinner before leaving to meet his boyfriend Austin at the flower shop. Austin showed up late, as usual. Gabe was thankful for that, he knew he would never see him again and it broke his heart but at least maybe this way he wouldn't be a blip on the killer's radar. He knew he was going to die, as he slipped further into the blackness Paisley was his last thought, he knew she'd find him but it would always be too late. 

    Gabe felt the cold blade of the scalpel as he laid in the storage container, he wouldn't cry out, he knew it was of little use and he wasn't about to give the nasty balding man child the pleasure. He could smell the iron of old blood in the air, he knew this was the place Landon died and that gave him a strange comfort. Maybe he'd see him again soon. The man must have noticed the small smiling creeping into Gabe's face as he lifted the scalpel to slit his carotid. Gabe never cried. Gabe just died.