Fashion Kills

"Oh my God, I love your dress!"

The sound of a very excited, feminine voice had Stacy looking up from her smartphone to see a petite woman with bright blonde hair standing in front of her table. She was dressed in a flattering white jumpsuit that clung to her curvy figure and her eyes were hidden behind dark RayBan's.

"Thank you!" Stacy smiled happily as she ran her hands over her glimmering sundress. "I got it on sale! And look, it even has pockets!"

Stacy proceeded to show the woman as she slipped her hands into the hidden pockets, and the woman's face brightened even more.

"Oh, that is awesome! I would kill to have a dress that has pockets!"

"Well, I got this at Forever 21. They should still have some on the racks."

The woman smiled. "Thank you! I'll have to go check them out."

"No problem! You have a nice day." Stacy gave the woman another smile before returning her attention back to her smartphone.

The woman stood there for a second longer, staring at Stacy's beautiful sundress with rapt admiration, before she disappeared into the crowd that swarmed the mall.

Detective Marsh stared at the scene before him as flashes of light went off sporadically as the crime scene techs cataloged every piece of evidence that could be found. His tired brown eyes could not pull away from the twisted scene before him, a scene that he has seen one too many times already.

The Fashionista has struck again.

The victim was a young, pretty woman this time with beautiful auburn hair styled in a very tasteful up-do. Her lifeless blue gaze stared at nothing and were enhanced with a face of makeup that had been meticulously applied by a very skilled hand. Everything about this crime scene was meticulous; from the cleanliness of the room to the precise cuts on the torso of the victim where Detective Marsh knew that the internal organs had been removed and that they would never be found.

"It's the Fashionista again, isn't it?"

Detective Marsh nodded his head as he continued to stare at the victim, his eyes taking in how she was posed like a mannequin at a department store.

"Shit." His partner, Detective Price, swore as he moved closer to the victim. "That's the third one this month. Cause of death strangulation?"

"Most likely."

Detective Price swore again as he moved around the victim to study her backside and Detective Marsh knew that thick bendable wires had been surgically placed within the body to keep the victim upright in a specific pose that the perp chose.

"Do we have an ID?" Detective Price asked.

"Yeah, her name is Stacy Baker." Detective Marsh answered. "Her driver's license had been conveniently left on the bedside table for us, wiped clean of any identifying prints."

"Just like the rest."

Again, Detective March nodded his head.

"Marsh! Price!"

The sound of their Captain's brisk voice had both men turning around simultaneously.

Captain Vaughn is a middle aged woman of African descent with dark skin and calculating eyes, dressed in her nicely pressed Captain's uniform. She is a hell of a woman with the entire precincts respect, including the Detective's, and they greeted her as warmly as they could.

"I have some unfortunate news for the both of you." She told them. "This investigation is being taken over by the FBI. Two agents and their team from the BAU are on their way as we speak."

"They can't do that!" Detective Price exploded while Detective Marsh remained silent. "This is our investigation!"

"They can and the have." Captain Vaughn said as her expression remained stoic. "I will expect your full cooperation, Detective Price. Yours as well, Detective Marsh."

Detective Marsh only nodded his head, knowing that there was no point in arguing, while his partner stewed.

Just then, two new editions entered the crowded crime scene dressed in black and white suits; one female and the other male. The female had golden blonde hair pulled into a tight bun with freckles decorating a pretty face that had very little makeup applied to porcelain skin. The male stood slightly taller than his partner with black hair cut closely to his scalp and sharp gray eyes that quickly surveyed the entire room.

"Detective Marsh, Detective Price. I would like to introduce FBI Special Agent Lopez and Anderson of the BAU." Captain Vaughn said as Special Agent Lopez gave them a friendly smile.

"Lopez? You don't look Mexican." Detective Price said rather rudely.

"No, but my husband is." Agent Lopez responded, not bothered by the Detective's rudeness. Her green eyes moved from the Detective's to the victim who was posed behind them. "As meticulous as ever, isn't she, Anderson."

"You've seen this before?" Detective Marsh asked.

"Oh, yes." Agent Lopez murmured as she moved around the two Detective's to get a closer look of the victim. "This is not the first city she has visited."

"How do you know it's a woman?" Detective Price questioned.

Agent Lopez looked over her shoulder at the Detective. "Just a gut feeling."

"We will need all of the evidence you have gathered as well as the notes that you have made on your investigation." Agent Anderson said in a monotone voice as he clasped his hands behind his back. "We cannot afford to waste anymore time."

"Consider it done." Detective Marsh complied tiredly.

"She will strike again soon." Agent Lopez stated as she returned her gaze to the once beautiful, young woman and added in a lower voice, "I will find you. No matter what."

A woman of short stature and voluptuous curves sat before a sewing machine as she made adjustments to her newly acquired clothes. Racks upon racks of many different styles surrounded her as she hummed happily while she worked; she always had to make some adjustments to her new wardrobes.

Beyond the racks of clothing sat several mannequin heads with wigs of different colors and cuts, completely faceless unlike the chosen women she finds. Below the mannequin heads was another shelf that housed rows upon rows of large Mason jars with various internal organs being preserved in a clear liquid; her more macabre keepsakes of her previous shopping trips.

Soon, the woman was done with her alterations and removed the dress from the sewing machine. She held it up in front of the bright fluorescent lights with an excited yet demented smile pulling at her lips before she slipped the dress over her naked body.

"Oh, what a beautiful dress." She said in a breathy whisper as she twirled around her spacious room in the glimmering sundress. "And you even have pockets!"

She continued to twirl happily around the room until she came to a stop in front of a wall of photographs.

They were of many different women wearing the clothes that she now had and taken with a polaroid, all with red swollen eyes and tears streaking down puffy cheeks, before they met their inevitable end.

"I'll take much better care of you than she did." She said while she ran her hands down the soft fabric while her eyes found the polaroid of a woman wearing the same dress that she now had on.

She smiled again as a light giggle escaped her throat before she twirled around and skipped to her ever expanding wardrobe, ready to admire them some more just as that all too familiar itch began to surface again.

She couldn't wait to go shopping again.