THAT DAY

That Day

The air was thick with the scent of rain, though the storm had long passed. Puddles shimmered under the flickering streetlights, reflecting the skeletal branches of leafless trees. The town was quiet, unnervingly so, as though it had exhaled its last breath and was waiting, just waiting.

Detective Mark Holloway pulled his coat tighter around himself as he stepped out of his car. The crime scene was cordoned off with yellow tape, fluttering in the cold breeze. His partner, Laura McKenna, was already there, kneeling beside the lifeless body sprawled on the wet pavement.

"Another one?" Mark muttered, crouching beside her.

Laura nodded grimly. "Third one this month. Same method. Same message."

Mark exhaled sharply. The victim—a woman in her mid-thirties—lay with her arms outstretched, her face frozen in an expression of terror. A single playing card, the Ace of Spades, was pinned to her palm with a rusted nail.

"He’s getting bolder," Mark said, standing up. "Leaving them out in the open now. No attempt to hide the bodies."

Laura stood, brushing dirt from her jeans. "The media’s already calling him ‘The Gambler.’ You think he wants the attention?"

Mark glanced at the card, then at the empty street stretching into darkness. "He wants something. And we need to figure out what before he strikes again."

---

**That Day, 5 Years Ago**

It had started as an ordinary evening. The kind where the past didn't linger and the future held no threats. Mark had been at a local bar with his closest friends, laughing, drinking, not knowing that within hours, his life would shatter.

The call had come just past midnight. A frantic dispatcher. An address he knew well.

He arrived to flashing lights, officers swarming like bees around a broken hive. The house was his sister’s. Inside, the walls were streaked with something dark. The air smelled metallic, thick, suffocating.

And there, in the center of the room, was Julie.

His sister. His only family.

Her body lay twisted, eyes open, mouth slightly parted. A single playing card—an Ace of Spades—was pinned to her palm.

The case had gone cold, the killer slipping through their fingers like smoke. But Mark had never forgotten. And now, five years later, the nightmare had returned.

---

**Present Day**

Back at the precinct, Mark stared at the evidence board. Three victims. Three playing cards. One connection—him.

"Mark?" Laura’s voice broke his trance. She held up a folder. "I ran a background check on all three victims."

"And?"

"They all lived in the same neighborhood. Near your sister’s house."

Mark’s stomach twisted. He ran a hand through his hair. "He’s circling back. Finishing what he started."

"Or taunting you."

Mark clenched his jaw. "Then he’s close. He’s watching."

Just then, a junior officer hurried in. "Detectives, we just got a call. Another body."

Mark and Laura exchanged a look before rushing out.

---

The location was different this time—an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The victim was a man in his forties, same positioning, same card. But this time, something was different.

A message, scrawled on the concrete wall in dripping red paint:

*That day, you should have stopped me.*

Mark felt the blood drain from his face.

"He’s talking to you," Laura whispered.

Mark’s hands curled into fists. He turned, scanning the shadows, his pulse hammering. "This isn’t just a serial killer. This is personal."

Laura placed a hand on his shoulder. "We’ll get him, Mark. We will."

But deep inside, Mark knew—the past was catching up, and this time, it wouldn’t let him go.

And then, from somewhere in the darkness, a slow, mocking clap echoed through the night.

The game wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.