don't get me wrong () prodigal son SLOW UPDATES

Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Seven:

Theodora failed to return to the church, instead she turned and headed down the sidewalk towards Malcolm's apartment. By the time she arrived her phone continued to blow up with texts from him, yet she ignored them, jamming her key into the lock and swinging open the door.

She ran up the stairs, finding herself in his office. Theodora knelt down at a set of drawers against the far wall, pulling out a box. She got up and it landed on his desk with a thump. A lock secured the lid to the main box, but she knew where the key was. She dug into a drawer in his desk and carefully lifted up a false bottom, revealing the key and many other things. Theodora swiftly took the key and opened the box, flipping over the lid to reveal everything and anything that mentioned The Surgeon, all the way from the very beginning. Nobody was allowed to go through this box, or even know about it. Malcolm wouldn't be happy to know what she was doing, but she long since stopped caring.

Theodora carefully placed each newspaper, scraps of articles and photos across the desk. When that filled up she moved to the floor, reading for dates and times, organizing everything in order.

The Surgeon kill trip racks up to a total of five victims. Investigations continue.

She frowned shaking her head, moving to another full newspaper.

A giant hoax - Is it possible for one man to kill fourteen women?  The Surgeon says yes.

"Twenty three." She muttered shaking her head, "Twenty four. Maybe twenty five, if he killed Annie as well as mom."

It was wrong to assume any body that turned up was a victim of Martin Whitly, especially a women's. But the crime rate of serial killers surprisingly went down after he was put into custody. They closed all twenty three cases, eliminating any other suspects involved in the web of the case. 

Total hits twenty. How long did The Surgeon's reign last?

Nobody seemed to use his real name, didn't want to tarnish the name of a renowned medical marvel.

"What a shame." Theodora whispered. The Whitly family was supposed to prosper. They were supposed to be the movie magic family, raising two kids in a large Victorian home in New York City. The prodigal son and diligent daughter. To bad the father had to go off his rocker and screw everything up.

As the years went on and The Surgeon was taken out of a high maximum prison, more articles released with more detailed stories. They were no longer being vague, they were fully aware of the crimes he did and finally stopped sugar coating it.

The brutal murders of Dr Martin Whilty. 23 victims, all women, found. Is there anymore?

"Probably." She snorted, skimming the blurb.

A body of a women was found just three days ago, here's what was left of the body.

Her name is unknown, but the believed age is twenty two. In one area, buried below Seven Mile Park just outside of Manhattan was the head. Five feet away, the torso. One town over, the rest of her was buried—

Theodora closed her eyes, she knew Martin Whitly had done terrible things, the worst a human being could do. But this, if this was indeed true, was worse than what she thought worse could get.

What if her mother was buried in pieces as well?

"No." She mumbled, "Don't think like that."

Theodora took a step back as each page was laid out before her, brows scrunching together.

"This did absolutely nothing. I need Malcolm's help." She rolled her eyes, grabbing her keys from the desk and rushing out into the main area, down the stairs and out the door.