I had some recent feedback on my Halloween story saying they would love to read more so here goes - For Sally my inspiring Sister...
Chapter 1: Signs in the Rain
The continuous rain had turned the streets of Winchester into slick, rippling rivers. Detective Alex Reyes stood just beyond the yellow tape at the edge of High Street, near the ancient, highly decorated stone structure—a 15th-century cross, famous for its saints and intricate carvings. Now, blood ran down its worn steps, mingling with the rain and pooling in dark puddles around the cordoned-off area.
The call had come in just after 6 a.m., from a jogger out on an early run. A body at the foot of the Buttercross in the middle of High Street—Winchester’s medieval heart. Reyes stepped forward, his boots splashing through puddles until he reached the steps, where the carved saints seemed to watch with silent, hollow eyes.
A young woman lay crumpled at the foot of the Buttercross. Her wrists were bound, her ankles tied tightly together with what looked like an old, faded cloth, soaked through with rain and blood. A dark blindfold covered her eyes, lending a sinister finality to her still face, as though she had been robbed of her last chance to see the world around her.
Her posture was strange—purposeful. Reyes noted her outstretched hand, almost as if she had been reaching for something or someone in her final moments. The other hand, clenched beneath her, remained hidden under her coat. The killer had arranged her in a pose that struck Reyes as almost ritualistic, the positioning disturbingly deliberate, like she was an offering to the ancient stone cross itself. The rain ran in rivulets down her body, carrying her blood down the stone steps, a stark reminder that this wasn’t an ordinary crime.
The forensic tech approached Reyes, murmuring, "No signs of struggle. It’s as if she accepted her fate—or maybe she was already unconscious when she was bound." He looked back at Reyes. "The positioning, though… I’ve seen a lot, but this feels like a statement. Some kind of staging."
Reyes nodded, a shiver creeping up his spine. Something about the bound wrists, the blindfold, and the eerie, almost submissive posture reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. He felt like he was looking at a message, though its meaning eluded him. The forensics team carried on, taking measurements and photos, but Reyes felt strangely drawn to the scene, as though the victim herself were trying to convey something he should understand.
“No signs of struggle,” the forensic tech murmured, glancing at Reyes. “No obvious cause of death, but there’s… something odd here, I'll know more after the autopsy" "Time of death" said Reyes, "I would say by the lividity, 5 or 6 hours ago, around 2am perhaps a little later" - "Thanks Mike", he returned, "I'll keep you informed" the medic replied, wrapping up his tools.
Reyes nodded, his gaze lingering on the serene, almost purposeful way her body had been positioned. A scene like this, right in the open, in a place with such historical weight—it was like the killer had wanted her to be seen. He was out of theories before he’d even started.
Two days later, Reyes was no closer to finding answers. There had been no clues left at the scene, no witness reports worth chasing. The media had already picked up on the strange location of the murder, fuelling speculation about the killer's motives. As the city braced itself, Reyes grew increasingly frustrated.
That Friday, he had promised his wife, some leisure time and Maria had insisted they go to the annual Hat Fair. Reyes didn’t have the heart to refuse; it was one of her favourite traditions in Winchester, and a chance for a little levity after days spent wrapped in the grim growing case file and sleepless nights. He didn’t expect much out of the fair—the usual street performers, vintage stalls, vendors selling tea, flowers, and quirky hats. But for once, he welcomed the distraction.
Maria’s eye was caught by a small booth tucked at the edge of the main square, decked out in bright fabrics and soft lights that glowed despite the cloudy sky. A wooden sign, handwritten and faintly peeling, read: Tarot and Divination - Sienna Haile.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Maria urged him, tugging him toward the tent. Reyes tried to object, but she laughed, pulling him in with the kind of determination he knew he couldn’t fight.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried lavender and herbs. A woman sat behind the table, her dark hair framing her face, an easy calm in her eyes. Reyes was ready to pull Maria back out when the woman looked up at him with a slow, knowing smile.
“You’re Alex Reyes,” she said softly, her tone steady. “Detective, I believe?”
Reyes’s expression froze, but Maria just grinned. “Guess she’s good, huh?” she whispered, squeezing his arm. "Detective Inspector", he corrected her. Sienna’s gaze was steady as she spoke. “I read about the woman you found by the Buttercross,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but carrying a weight he couldn’t ignore. “There’s another one coming, you know.”
Reyes felt a chill rise on the back of his neck. “Excuse me?”
Sienna shuffled her cards slowly, methodically, eyes never leaving his face. “The man who did this—he’s left a pattern behind. The signs are clear if you know where to look.”
Reyes’s scepticism was immediate, but Sienna seemed undeterred. She continued shuffling her cards until one slipped from her hands and landed face-up on the table between them. The Eight of Swords.
“This woman didn’t just die,” Sienna said, gesturing toward the card. “She felt trapped. Confined. There’s someone she knew—someone who betrayed her. This was planned.”
Reyes’s hand tightened around his wife’s. “How can you know that?” he demanded, forcing himself to keep his voice steady.
Sienna’s expression softened, as if she understood his need for answers but also knew how desperately he wanted to avoid them. She slid her business card across the table, placing it beside the tarot card. It read Sienna Haile: Cartomancer Consultant, with the simple image of The Fool—arms spread wide, standing at the edge of a cliff.
“When you’re ready,” she said quietly, her gaze never leaving his. “I can help you find him.”
Reyes looked at the card, his mind spinning, his rational mind rejecting the idea that anything in this tarot tent could lead him to a killer. But when he glanced back at Sienna, something about her unflinching gaze stayed with him.
He pocketed her card, nodding to Maria to leave, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she knew more than she’d let on.
Chapter 2: Dead Ends
Reyes strode into the station, his jaw set, the night’s fatigue visible in his eyes. He shrugged off his coat, still damp from the rain that hadn’t let up since dawn, and tossed it over the back of his chair. He looked around the bullpen, nodding toward his team who’d assembled around a whiteboard where photos of the Buttercross crime scene were pinned, along with a photo of the victim—a young woman with a quiet, tentative smile that no one had been able to place.
Reyes cleared his throat. “Right, what have we got—Tappin?”
Detective Tappin, tall and perpetually under-caffeinated, rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “Been door-to-door all morning, sir. Nothing out of the local businesses, pubs, or clubs. They don’t recognize her, haven’t seen anyone like her around.”
Reyes grunted, frowning. “No witnesses in the area?”
Tappin shook his head, the frustration clear in his expression. “Not a soul. Buttercross should’ve been busy that night with people going in and out of the pubs. But no one saw a thing.”
“Turner?”
Detective Turner, younger and more optimistic despite everything, chimed in. “Circulated the photo, sir. But nobody’s come forward. It’s as if she just… appeared out of thin air. No records, no local connections. We’re thinking maybe she’s not from around here.”
“Right,” Reyes muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If she was passing through, there has to be some kind of record. June?”
Detective June Lawrence, a no-nonsense type with years of field experience, was already nodding. “On it. I’ve got a list of the buses that pass through town, and end up at the main terminus including local and other direct routes am also checking the park and ride as the National Express drops off there on the way to and from London and Bournemouth. If she came in from another area, someone on some transport line would’ve seen her.”
“Good. Take Phil and Tony and widen the search around the the bus and train routes check CCTV. Someone must’ve seen this girl, or known her. For god’s sake,” he said, louder this time, frustration slipping into his tone, “we have to find something.”
There was a tense silence as the team exchanged glances. It wasn’t like Reyes to get this rattled, but this case had taken them all off guard—no leads, no witnesses, no past.
“Sir?” Tappin asked, his tone hesitant. “You alright?”
Reyes looked up, surprised by the question. “I’m fine. Just—” He trailed off, his thoughts wandering back to the Hat Fair, to that strange woman and her eerily accurate card. “Just a long week,” he finished, his voice sharper than he intended.
Turner shifted, glancing at Reyes cautiously. “Sir, if I may ask… that reading you were talking about, you know the tarot woman at the fair?”
Reyes glared at him. “What about it?”
Turner cleared his throat. “I only mention it because… well, maybe she knows something. People like that, they have… their ways of finding things out.”
Reyes shot him a look of pure scepticism. “You seriously think I’d bring in a tarot reader on a homicide?”
“I’m just saying, sir, that she might know something about the local scene. Or maybe she picked up something… unusual. Couldn’t hurt, right?”
There was a murmuring of assent from the others, and Reyes’s irritation grew, but he couldn’t shake the memory of Sienna’s steady gaze as she held up that card. He remembered the feeling that she hadn’t just been guessing—that she’d known more than she let on.
“Alright,” he said finally, reluctant but resolved. “If we don’t turn up anything from the transport enquiries, maybe I’ll pay her a visit. Maybe. But I don’t want any of you treating her as gospel, got it? We find concrete leads. Evidence.”
A ripple of agreement spread through the team, though a few exchanged cynical and doubting looks. Reyes turned back to the whiteboard, refocusing on the photo of the victim.
“One more thing,” he said, his voice softer. “I don’t want her name erased from memory just because she’s a stranger to us. Somebody out there knew her. Let’s make sure they know we’re doing everything we can.”
And with that, he dismissed the team, wondering if his reluctant step into the world of the unseen would be the one lead that might just get them somewhere.
Chapter Three: Demons
Alex sat perplexed in the canteen over his coffee which he kept on stirring. “Eight of swords” - he got out his old Android and googled “eight of swords”.
Google stated :
"The Eight of Swords is associated with feeling trapped, being restrained and being hopeless. He turned to Wikipedia and read “When the Eight of Swords card is upright, it can be a warning that your thoughts and beliefs are no longer serving you. It can be a sign that you should let go of negative patterns and embrace new perspectives”.
“Fuck it” , he threw down the spoon and fished the card from coat pocket and went to the car park. “Right, Ms Haile, let’s see what you have for me to embrace”
Reyes slid into the worn leather seat of his Toyota Land Cruiser, the door closing with a solid, familiar thud. The Land Cruiser suited him—a sturdy, no-nonsense vehicle with enough mileage to have seen its fair share of rough roads, yet always ready to take on more. The dashboard, scuffed from years of service, the interior still smelling faintly of damp leather and stale coffee with no glossy touches or frivolous tech; it was a workhorse, much like him. He adjusted his rear-view mirror, catching his own tired eyes staring back, and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life in a low, steady hum, comforting in its constancy. Glancing back at the bustling precinct behind him. A few officers stood around the entrance, talking animatedly, their voices fading as he pulled away from the station and out of the busy High Street.
The rain had finally let up, leaving the streets glistening in the soft afternoon light. He turned onto North Walls, the historic buildings flanking him—some dating back centuries, their stone façades weathered but resilient. The faint echoes of footsteps mingled with the sound of distant traffic, creating a tapestry of city life.
As he drove, he passed the ancient city walls, remnants of Winchester’s storied past, now enveloped by ivy and patches of vibrant wildflowers. Reyes couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the city’s history, but his mind quickly drifted back to the case. He flicked on the radio, trying to drown out his spiralling thoughts with the familiar chatter of the local news.
He turned onto the quieter residential roads leading to Kings Barton, the atmosphere shifting as he left the hustle and bustle behind. The houses here were quaint, with manicured lawns and charming gardens, children’s toys scattered on the sidewalks. Reyes noticed a few families out enjoying the brief respite from the rain, a stark contrast to the weight of the investigation looming over him.
The road began to curve gently, and the landscape opened up, revealing fields of green that rolled gently toward the horizon. The air was fresh, tinged with the earthy scent of wet grass and blooming hedgerows. He slowed as he approached a small park, its trees swaying lightly in the breeze. A couple of joggers moved along the path, their laughter echoing like a distant memory of normalcy.
After a few more turns, Reyes found himself in Kings Barton, a neighbourhood that felt like a world apart from the chaos of the city centre. It was peaceful here, with families tending to their gardens and neighbours chatting over white picket fences. Reyes parked on the side of the road, taking a moment to gather his thoughts as he stared at the modest homes before him.
As he drove through Kings Barton, he turned on the radio to hear Imagine Dragons' "Demons." The atmospheric opening chords filled the car, and the haunting lyrics seemed poignant…
“When the days are cold / And the cards all fold / And the saints we see / Are all made of gold…”
Reyes feels the weight of the words, the deep sense of isolation they evoke. He glances at the serene neighbourhood outside, contrasting sharply with the turmoil swirling in his mind about the young girl and the cryptic message from Sienna’s tarot reading.
“Don’t get too close / It’s dark inside / It’s where my demons hide…”
The song’s haunting refrain:
‘This is my Kingdom Come, This is my Kingdom Come” sent a cold shiver up his spine. With thoughts about the fear and desperation that the young girl must have felt, had she been trapped and betrayed? The connection to the Eight of Swords felt palpable, intensifying his resolve to speak with this woman in some ‘hope’ of perhaps uncovering something to inspire him and which he thought he was crazy to even be here. The lyrics echoed the urgency of his investigation—a reminder that behind every closed door, hidden fears and secrets may lie, waiting to be unveiled. The song seemed to linger in the air, infusing the quiet drive with a sense of foreboding and purpose.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that, behind this façade of tranquillity, secrets lurked beneath the surface. It was a stark reminder of the disparity between the life he observed in the sunlight and the shadows of the case he carried. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car, ready to seek out whatever answers lay hidden in this quiet neighbourhood.
The phone rang bringing Reyes to his senses. "Yes Mike?"
Dr. Michael Chance had conducted the autopsy and was now sure of some things which he now informed Alex of the results. Chance's voice then came through the phone, steady but laced with a grim undertone.
"Alex, the cause of death is asphyxiation by compression."
Reyes tightened his grip on the phone. "What exactly does that mean?"
"It means her chest was compressed—likely by some kind of binding—that prevented her from fully expanding her lungs. She was suffocating slowly. The lungs were congested, dark, and heavy with fluid, showing classic signs of oxygen deprivation. Pulmonary edema had set in, so when I cut into them, there was a frothy, blood-tinged fluid—a sign she was struggling to breathe."
Reyes took a steadying breath. "So, she was bound tightly enough to stop her from breathing?"
"Precisely. There were faint ligature marks around her chest and torso, as if someone wrapped her tightly enough to restrict her chest movement. She also had petechial haemorrhages in her eyes and lungs—tiny red spots from broken capillaries. That’s common in asphyxiation cases and suggests she was conscious, struggling to breathe, for some time, the blood at the scene, though Alex, wasn't hers, I've sent the samples to Abby for forensic checks"
"Anything else I need to know?" Reyes asked, feeling the weight of each word.
Dr. Chance hesitated. "One more thing. She was pregnant—just a couple of months along. No visible external injuries or signs of a struggle, but her position was deliberate, staged. Whoever did this wanted her found."
Reyes closed his eyes, feeling a cold rage build within him. "Thank you, Mike. Get the full report to the team."
"Will do," Dr. Chance replied. "I’ll keep you updated if anything else comes up. "That’s all I got mate!”
“Thanks Mike, appreciate the heads up, get the report to the rest of the team would you, I’ll be in later”
Reyes took the Consultant’s card from his pocket and locked the car door, touching the handle the mirrors folded in as he looked down the road for the address. 32 Whitman Road, was a small detached bungalow in the middle of a row of similar properties. He opened the gate and approached the door, and prepare to knock as it opened before he could raise his hand and there stood Sienna Haile. “Inspector Reyes, I’ve been expecting you” .
End Lyrics (want some more - just ask?)
Demons
Song by Imagine Dragons
When the days are cold and the cards all fold
And the saints we see are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail
Are the worst of all, and the blood's run stale
I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
Don't get too close, it's dark inside
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
At the curtain's call, it's the last of all
When the lights fade out, all the sinners crawl
So they dug your grave and the masquerade
Will come calling out at the mess you've made
Don't wanna let you down, but I am hell-bound
Though this is all for you, don't wanna hide the truth
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
Don't get too close, it's dark inside
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
They say it's what you make, I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go
Your eyes, they shine so bright, I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now, unless you show me how
When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide
Don't get too close, it's dark inside
It's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide