Detective Martin Graves is tied to a chair. His Badge glistens under the dim warehouse light, the only thing that's clean about him.

I stand only a few feet away from him, arms crossed, watching, waiting.

Blood drips from his nose onto his crisp white shirt, he doesn't beg. He doesn't panic.

He just studies me the way a man like him always does - calculating, weighing his options.

Were both detectives.

We both wear the same uniform.

We both hunt killers

The only difference, I continue to hunt the killers that the system lets escape.

“You know what they will call this, right?” Graves finally speaks, his voice rough.”A cop killing a cop that doesn't go unanswered you know”

I step closer, tilting my head. “Neither does what you've done”

I pick up a file from the desk beside me and throw it to the floor in front of him, the papers scatter - missing persons reports, crime scene photos, autopsy reports. WOMEN. YOUNG. VULNERABLE. Easy prey for a man who knows what he's doing.

“Tell me”, I say. “When did it all start? Before the badge? After? Before the wife? Before your young daughter?”

Graves lets out a long sigh, then smiles through the blood dripping from his nose into his mouth. “You think you're some kind of hero?”

I crouch to meet his gaze, “No”

His smile starts to fade. He starts to squirm trying to release the zip ties holding him in place.

“You won't get away with this”, he says.

I lift my knife. “Of course i will” i say bluntly

His body tenses. For the first time, I see fear. Not for what's coming - no, men like Graves fear something worse.

They fear losing control.

Then I make the cut, slashing his throat.

His body slumps over, and for the first time in years, Martin Graves won't be going home to his family.

I clean my knife, place his gun back into his holster, and get ready to dispose of his body. 

By the time they find him, I'll be sitting at my desk trying to find my next victim.