[ WP ] You are a detective who has closed every case but one , a serial murderer who has taunted you all your career . After retiring you start to suspect your significant other .

**Lupo Case Notebook # 25 11/08/2014** 
 
 Well, it's done. I exchanged my badge for a gold watch today. There was a little party in the briefing room, and the chief said some nice things. Long career, blah blah blah, safer streets, yadda yadda. My replacement, some lanky kid who is getting bumped up from patrol, circled the edges of the party. I felt like he was eyeing my seat like some kind of hungry hyena. 
 
 The whole thing stinks. I hate the stench of unfinished business. See, I'm the guy that'll have one loose thread on a sweater, and if I ca n't cut it, I'll pull the whole god-damned thing apart, yanking on that thread. I ca n't stand loose ends. Never could. 
 
 Jones met me down at Flanigan's after. He bought me a Smith Model 27 and called me `` Old Man'' when he handed it over. The new guys all use Glocks, and I made the switch too but I kicked up a hell of a storm at the time. I know modern models are fine, but for some reason I just trust a wheelgun more. I guess now I can go back to carrying one. 
 
 He also brought me the files for the Lupo case. 
 
 `` Hank,'' he said, staring into his whiskey with that tone that says he knows it's a sore topic he's about to get into... 
 
 `` Do n't spend the rest of your life in this box. You know how the chief would feel if he know I'd smuggled this shit out for you, so I put my ass on the line to get you these. But find some way to bury this ghost, brother, or it's going to eat you alive. Molly's given up enough nights to Lupo. She deserves your attention now. She's earned it.'' 
 
 Jones is a good kid, and he was a good partner. He'll be alright. 
 
 I slapped him on the shoulder, pulled him in for a hug, and left without a word. 
 
 I carried the Lupo files out into the rain, protecting them under my arm. 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 11/09/2014** 
 
 Looking through the case file again. Feels like the thousandth time I've looked at this set of grainy old photographs. One of the first Lupo crime scenes. The first photo is of a young girl, thirteen years old, hung by her feet in the freezing cold of a meat locker, great, black holes gaping out of her face where her eyes should be, staring into infinity. We wondered where the eyes had gone, until a gift-wrapped package showed up on the doorsteps of the precinct. 
 
 I thumbed the tag that had been carefully tied to the package, like a Christmas gift.'For Hank. Here's to a beautiful future together. Lupo.' The little girl's blue eyes had been inside. 
 
 I'd read Sherlock Holmes a thousand times when I was a kid. Grew up dreaming about a brilliant detective with a great nemesis. Fantasized about having my Moriarty. I remember that feeling, looking at that gift wrapped package. Knowing I'd gotten my wish, and it made me sick. Be careful what you wish for kids. 
 
 Molly's calling me to bed. She gets worried when I stay up later than her. I guess there's no need to have that argument anymore. She's made me my usual glass of warm milk before bed. Helps me sleep. What a sweetheart. If I do n't go, she'll insist, and it'll turn into fights and slammed doors and cold shoulders. Better leave the files be for tonight. 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/06/2014** 
 
 Tried to leave Lupo alone for a while. Ca n't get him out of my head. I was sitting in my recliner tonight, looking at the Christmas tree. Molly likes setting it up early, and she's got all the presents wrapped and laid out for the grandkids. 
 
 I noticed something kind of funny. She uses those old fashioned tags on the presents, tied with a string. And the knot is the one I taught her, from back in my Navy days. It's the same one that Lupo used. Always made me think maybe he had a military background. Odd that Molly still uses that knot I taught her one afternoon after all these years. 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/07/2014** 
 
 It's getting late. I'm wondering if I'm having some kind of a Jimmy Stewart'Rear Window' moment here. Starting to think retirement is getting to me. I ran my ideas by Jones, and he told me I need to get some sleep. Sounded worried. 
 
 Last night, after dinner, Molly held up her glass for a toast. She does this from time to time, and it always feels stupid to me but I humor her. Do you know what she said? 
 
 She looked at me across the table with this cat that ate the canary smile, and she said,'Here's to a beautiful future together.' 
 
 What a coincidence. Right? 
 
 Here comes the warm milk again. Will think on this more tomorrow. 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/13/2014** 
 
 I've been listening to the police scanner from time to time. It helps keep me calm. They found a Lupo body, early this morning. Freshly dumped. Maybe he heard I retired. I'm itching so bad to go into the office I ca n't stand it, and instead I'm stuck here tying god damned fishing fly flures. 
 
 You know what's weird? I went out into the garage for more fishing line, and heard crackling and popping. I put my hand flat on the hood of Molly's car, and it was warm. 
 
 I asked her, and she said after I fell asleep last night she got restless and wanted to take a drive. That's fine, and I did n't say anything to her, but her car would n't still be that warm unless she got back not too long ago. Molly always was a shitty liar. 
 
 What's going on? 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/15/2014** 
 
 When I first got my gold shield, my partner was a salty old cuss named Abraham Hammer. Old Abe Hammer used to say, `` There's no such thing as a coincidence.'' A year after I came on, old Abe Hammer got bludgeoned to death by a guy wielding a twenty pound sledge. I ca n't make this shit up. 
 
 Anyway, it's going to nag at me until I resolve this. Molly went out shopping today, and I started sniffing around. In her bedside table, pushed way to the back, I found a bottle of sleeping pills about half empty. I'm starting to think I know why I did n't hear her leave for that drive last night. I'm also thinking I'll turn down that glass of warm milk next time it's offered. 
 
 I need to take a look in the trunk of Molly's car without her knowing. 
 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/16/2014** 
 
 Turnabout is fair play. I crushed up one of the pills she's been using on me, and I slipped it into her highball before we went to bed. Lights out, princess. Twenty years... has Lupo been right under my nose, all this time? 
 
 Going to check the trunk. 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/16/2014 ( Entry 2 ) ** 
 
 Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 
 
 Molly's dead. I'm not sure what to do. 
 
 I opened her trunk. Nothing. Then I pulled away the floor of the trunk, where the spare tie is supposed to be. 
 
 Rope. Duct tape. A handgun. A set of tranquilizer darts, like the kind they use on bears. A pair of muddy old boots. That was the strangest one. Muddy boots. They were a pair of my old hunting boots that disappeared three or four years back. Frantically, hands shaking, I went to my case files and pulled a photo from around then, taken of Lupo's boot prints at a crime scene. The treads match up. Guess I never took the time to look at the treads on my own god damned boots. Some detective. 
 
 Lupo started changing his shoes more often later on. Made us think he knew something about or investigation. Or maybe he just watched too much CSI. 
 
 Turns out Lupo was my own god damned wife. 
 
 I put the boots back in the trunk and shut it, but when I looked up, Molly was standing in the doorway of the garage. Guess I did n't get the dosage right. She was dressed like she was ready to go out. 
 
 `` So,'' she said quietly. `` Now you know.'' 
 
 I nodded. She had her purse under her arm. I put a 38 special in her purse the same day Lupo wrote my name on a gift wrapped package of eyeballs. Told her it would keep her safe. My eyes wandered to that purse. 
 
 `` Then you know I ca n't let you continue,'' she said. She reached into the purse, and my old instincts kicked in. I drew the Model 27 Jones had given me, and pulled the trigger. In the enclosed space of the garage, the roar of the revolver was deafening and the light was blinding. 
 
 When the roaring darkness receded, my beautiful Molly was laying broken in a pool of blood in front of me. In her bloody, outstretched hand was her cell phone. The 38 was still in her purse. 
 
 I'll probably call the boys tomorrow. But I ca n't deal with this tonight. It can wait until morning. I closed the garage door, locked the house down tight, and went to bed. 
 
 **Lupo Case Notebook # 25 12/17/2014** 
 
 This morning, I got up. Molly was right where I left her. The door to the garage, however, was unlocked from the house side, and the hood of my car was still warm. The scanner was crackling with news of another Lupo murder, one early this morning on the other side of town. 
 
 Why are my shoes muddy?
