Drifting among a winding narrow path, passing through the shadowy forest, darting past the jagged branches of the gnarled trees longing to drag all life into their depths, a lost soul charged through, searching for any signs of hope.  Stumbling on the loose roots peeking through the muddy grounds, he glanced behind his shoulders, looking for his impending doom.  Preparing for the worst, he paused in a thicket and tried to take stock of the situation, but before having any time to act, he was confronted by silence.  Not just complete silence, but the forest seemed to fall into a deathly stillness, as if sensing the danger that loomed in the misty air.  Collecting his thoughts, he began thinking of how to get back to the city, to people, to anyone.

Pivoting toward what he thought was an opening, he found himself face to face with an inky blackness, a hooded figure wielding a long, sharpened hunting knife with razor edges that glinted in the moonlight.  Before he could even let out a cry for help, his throat was slashed with the silver blade.  As he stood clutching his throat and gasping for air, a crimson ooze began to seep through the cracks between his fingers while attempting to slow the bleeding.  In a matter of moments, the blood pouring down his collared shirt came trickling to a stop, as he slowly slumped down to the ground.  The dark figure vanished, leaving behind the now lifeless body in the heart of the woods.

After slicing through the warm meat, Aiden Cooper chewed at the delectable, juicy bacon until the soft buzzing of a phone call pierced the grease-scented morning air of his quaint apartment.  Groggily reaching over to answer his phone, the 32-year-old detective rose out of his chair, preparing for the announcement of his next investigation.  As soon as he was told where the murder was, the detective had already crammed his breakfast down his throat and begun to put on his clothes.  After donning a white undershirt, navy waistcoat, and matching tie, he checked his tall, staggering appearance in the mirror.  His hazel eyes scanned his appearance for any imperfections, as he grabbed some hair gel to mold his coarse dark brown strands into a pompadour-styled haircut.  Finalizing his look, he bundled up in a beige trench coat before stepping outside to battle the frigid fall air.

Although he was a homicide detective, life was dull in the small city of Silverdale, Maine.  While being overwhelmingly boring now, the town had seen some much needed action several years ago when Detective Cooper brought down a small-time serial killer that was sweeping through the county, earning him several accolades to his career.  Despite the recognition from his awards, what he really valued was how his job could bring closure to these victims’ families and friends, even in the face of tragedy.

Arriving alongside the highway near the edge of the forest, he stepped out of his police car.  Wandering through the maple-scented woods, he eventually came across the other members of the department already marking up the crime scene.  Asking a team member what the situation was, he retold Cooper about how the victim was Abraham Buxton Charles, a local car salesman, who died of a single laceration to the throat.  Afterwards, she gestured over her shoulder to where a female jogger awaited for questioning.  Despite being disturbed by the whole ordeal, the witness’s account was truthful and accurate, but she did not see anything suspicious upon discovering the body, thus the lead ran dry.

While the crime scene investigation unit had already discovered the man’s identity, the body was now being analyzed in the morgue by a dedicated mortician and loyal friend, Sylvia Johnson.  Even though she seemed somewhat odd and eccentric at times, her methods were deadly accurate and never failed.  After her examination, she found that he most likely died between midnight and two in the morning.  Also, the murder weapon was an extremely long and sharpened blade, based on how he was slashed in one sweeping motion that split his jugular in half, leading to major blood loss.  Though learning about the cause of death from Sylvia was enlightening, the murder still could have been random or pre-meditated at this point, as an investigation into his personal life ran into a dead end.

Not knowing how to proceed with the case, Detective Cooper confronted his boss, Police Commissioner David Williams.  Nearing the end of his time at the force, Williams was quite saddened by this fact, as he enjoyed his job immensely.  Even though he said he was ready to pass the torch along to a successor, he did his best to prolong his stay for as long as possible until they found a replacement.  Despite his work as a detective in the past, Williams could not provide any insight into the case for Cooper after hearing the details of the murder.  Telling Cooper to head home and get some rest, the commissioner stayed behind, seemingly reminiscing about how he once solved tough cases like these a long time ago.

The next morning, the soft buzz of a phone call awoke him from his deep slumber.  Groggily going through the same process again, Cooper headed out of the door, but drove to the heart of Silverdale this time, stopping at a small dark alleyway among some large businesses.  The seedy alley seemed actually cleaner than most around the town, but this one had a different kind of clutter.  While multiple reports of shrill screaming originating from the alleyway came flooding into the police station late last night, no one bothered to investigate what happened until this morning’s trash pickup when they found her empty car and a bloody body.  Now, the whole task force had ventured out to investigate the murder, and as Sylvia examined the body at the crime scene this time, she was troubled to discover that the same style of motions were used to kill this young lady around midnight again.  However, even if the killer had the same MO, the victim, Alexandria Carlson, was just a young thrift store clerk, according to her employee ID.  The car salesman Abraham had never even crossed paths with her, yet now they have both been victims of random murders or something larger at work.  Without any connections though, it seemed impossible to solve until Cooper spotted a security camera on the front entrance of a supermarket across the street.

Talking to the manager of the store, they were allowed access to the store’s tiny security room and began to review the footage upon the black-and-white screens.  In the corner of the top-left screen, they spotted Alexandria locking the thrift shop up for the night, seemingly not being in any imminent danger until she approached her car.  Slowly, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows of the darkened alley while brandishing a large knife.  Inching ever so closely to her as she walked down the alley, the mysterious menace quickened its pace.  Seemingly hearing soft footsteps behind her, Alexandria glanced over her shoulder to peer at her stalker and immediately broke into a sprint in hopes of reaching her car.  As Alexandria grew closer to the car door, she fiddled with her keys trying to find the right one until she tripped.  Immediately, the attacker caught up to her, as she struggled to get up off her hands and knees.  Bringing the knife in front of her, the killer held back her head, as he slid the knife across her throat.  Fleeing the scene, he left behind her writhing body, which eventually fell motionless.  Recoiling from the horror that unfolded on screen, Detective Cooper stood astonished at the violence and puzzled by killer’s shrouded identity.

After Cooper headed back to the station still in awe of what he saw, Commissioner Williams called him out into his office with an unfamiliar angry tone.  So venturing back into his office, he came face to face with him and two other officers, who immediately began to handcuff him, as Williams told him they were bringing Cooper in for questioning for these murders.  Asking upon what grounds, he explained that the only evidence that links both murders together is one similarity Cooper fortuitously overlooked, their names.  Sharing the same initials of A.B.C., Detective Aiden Byron Cooper seemed to be a prime suspect in this alphabetical murder spree consisting of Abraham Buxton Charles and Alexandria Birch Carlson.  Claiming that this was merely a coincidence, the detective lacked any substantial objections to interrogation.  While questioning was simple, the only issue remaining.  Without anybody to support him sleeping alone in his home during the murders, Cooper had no solid alibi.  Nonetheless, they could not hold him forever without any evidence, but they wanted him off the case, and so they sent the detective back to his apartment to stay put for the rest of the evening.

Knowing he had to clear his name, Cooper was determined to stop the killer before he strikes again.  Grabbing the phone book in his room, he searched for anyone with the same initials, knowing that they would be at danger; however, no one from town fit this specification until he came across Alyssa Barnes Close.  Secluded in the woods, she was the local park ranger, who managed and maintained the forest for many years, and happened to be the perfect target.  Talking to her over the phone made him seem crazy from her perspective, and so she ignored his warnings and hung up on him.  While he tried to call back, she would not pick up the phone.  Knowing what he had to do next, he grabbed his beige overcoat and headed out the door.

Going against orders, he had to find Alyssa before it turned midnight, so he drove to the edge of the woods and headed out along the paths to find her house.  Despite not being able to find anything for several hours, allowing night to eventually settle in, it seemed all hope would be lost.  Eventually, he came across the smell of smoke and the warm glow of a fire emanating from a little log cabin in the center of the forest.  With very little time to spare, he knocked on her door and told Alyssa to beware of her possible demise, but she brushed it off.  However, seeing his desperation, Alyssa let him stay until midnight, allowing him to ensure her “safety” to ease his anxieties.  While the time crept by, everything outside drew quiet and still.  As the clock struck midnight, the power went out in a bright flash, the fire was extinguished by a gust of air, and the cabin fell into darkness.  Suddenly, chaos ensued.

The door bursted open as a dark figure rushed past, looking for its prey.  As Detective Cooper tried to defend Alyssa from the intruder, the figure quickly brushed him aside.  She attempted fleeing upstairs; however, she tripped on the wooden steps.  Before she could regain her balance, a swift silver blade slashed at her and cut her throat, and in a matter of moments, her cold dead body came tumbling down the stairs, sprawling on the floor as blood oozed out of her.

The killer turned and faced Cooper next.  Its murderous green eyes staring into the detective’s very soul.  In a final struggle to stay alive, he tried to overpower the menace, knocking him to the ground in order to grab the knife and unmask the fiend.  Removing the blackened hood, the moonlight reflected upon commissioner's ghostly white face.  Stunned at this realization, Detective Cooper staggered back, questioning why he would do such a thing.  Easing his back up against the wall, Williams explained that he was being forced to retire within the next month and that they wanted to make Cooper the next police commissioner of Silverdale.  After spending years pouring his soul into this job, the people who placed him there were now forcing him out of work.  Trying to protect the only thing he had left in this world, Williams wanted to destroy Cooper in order to remove the only viable candidate for this job, so he could maintain his rank as commissioner for a few more years.  Thanks to his dedication to the case, Cooper has helped foil himself, as confronting him at this murder was the final piece of Williams’s master plan.  Confused by this remark, he crept forward to Williams, ready to strike.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light.  As the entire police force flooded into the cabin, they pinned the detective against the wall and read him his Miranda rights.  Sylvia rushed over to Williams, and asked him if he was all right.  Shooting a look of disbelief at Cooper, she looked at him in fear, horror, and disgust.  While the detective was dragged out, he tried to pin the blame on Williams, but the commissioner told a rehearsed tale of how he came to stop Cooper before he took his next victim.  Being too late, Williams called the police for backup and entered the cabin to confront the detective, but nearly died in doing so.  Nonetheless, he was just glad the “murderer” was caught and would pay for his crimes.