[ WP ] All those nicks and bruises that show up on your body seemingly out of nowhere are injuries received by your soulmate .

`` No, sir, I assure you, I do not hit my wife!'' 
 `` DO N'T LIE, YOU BASTARD! ``, I shouted. Oh, I knew these guys. 
 They talk so much about how they love their wives and then at the minimal offense they just beat the crap out of them. 
 
 Mr. Taylor did n't know what to do. 
 
 `` I swear...'' he said, with tears in his eyes in the interrogation room. `` I did n't do it... the bruises just kept appearing.'' 
 `` Just like that?'' I asked. `` Like magic?'' 
 `` YES! We've tried everything. EVERYTHING!'' he said. `` We went to the pastor, who said she was possessed. It did n't work. 
 Then we went to an accupunturist, to a Kundalini yoga center, and I finally decide to bring her to the doctor. And what happens? This!'' 
 
 `` Mr Taylor'', I said, calmly. `` The doctor did n't find any symptoms of hemophilia. Read the report.'' 
 
 Mr. Taylor read the report carefully. He read it again, and again. He did n't say anything. But the expression in his face made me doubt. 
 What if... what if she had a lover and it's the lover who did this to her? 
 
 `` I'll be right back.'' 
 
 I went out of the interrogation room. 
 `` He does n't look like your typical wife-beater, Rodriguez.'' 
 
 Meet my partner, Kaila Rodriguez. She takes all the domestic violence. She's been an invaluable assistant - and maybe one day, who knows? 
 
 `` I know'', she replied. `` That's what keeps throwing me off. And the psychologist said it does n't fit with the battered wife syndrome.'' 
 `` Do we have that on paper?'' 
 `` Yuuup. Right here.'' 
 `` Let me check.'' 
 
 `` Blah blah blah subject... blah blah blah bruises... examination....'' ( I turned the page ) `` No conclusion. Nightmares... hey what is this?'' 
 `` She keeps mentioning these nightmares about being in the desert and this man in moustache hitting her.'' 
 `` A dream? A *dream* is beating her?'' 
 `` That's what she assures. Here, turn to page 3.'' 
 `` What is this?'' 
 `` It's a transcription of her dream. She remembered every little bit.'' 
 `` And these words...'' 
 `` They're supposedly the words of the man who beat her in her dreams.'' 
 
 I snapped my fingers. `` Maybe... the beater is threatening them both, so she made up the dream to vent it out. And the beater is still out there...'' 
 `` We might need to do some research, Rodriguez. But first I have to know what these words mean. And I think I know someone who'll assist us. He's a few minutes from here.'' 
 
 I opened the interrogation door. `` Alright, you're free to go. If you're as innocent as you say, Mr. Taylor... I'd get a 24-hour surveillance tape on your wife.'' 
 `` You know what?'' he said, contemplative. `` You may be right, officer.'' 
 He walked out to be greeted by his wife. `` Sweety, I'm sorry -'' 
 `` It's not your fault, El. Look, the officer gave me some tips. I'll explain later. We're going to Radio Shack.'' 
 
 `` I may have to follow those two.'' 
 `` Let me handle it'', said Rodriguez, patting me in the shoulder. `` You go find your translator''. 
 
 WEDNESDAY. BARNETT COLLEGE. 
 
 I sniffed the air. I loved studying here. Sometimes I miss the classes, and the students fooling around. I went to see professor Cohen. 
 
 Lucky for me, his class had just finished. I knocked on the door. 
 
 `` Come in...'' 
 `` Professor Cohen?'' 
 The bearded, wrinkly man took off his glasses. `` Well well well... if it is n't Jimmy Murphy!'' he chanted, giving me a hug. 
 `` How've you been, professor?'' 
 `` Oh, the usual... grading stuff... teaching the kids... what brings you here, boy?'' 
 `` Well, professor, I'm following a case, and I thougth you might give me a hand. You're fluent in middle eastern languages, and I just wanted to check something.'' 
 `` Oh my God, is it a terr-'' 
 `` No no no... nothing like that. It's a domestic violence case. But it's gotten a bit weird. I'm starting to doubt it's the husband who hits her.'' 
 `` Poor things'', he said, shaking his head. `` Poor things. One of my students keeps coming here covering her bruises. She's very shy. But she wo n't admit anything. 
 And unfortunately, I'm just a lowly professor... what am I to do in this case?'' 
 
 `` Here. Take a look at this. It might just be gibberish... she might be making it up to cover for her husband.'' 
 `` Alriiight...'' he said, sitting down. `` Let's see....'' 
 `` Right here.'' 
 `` Hmm... uh huh... this looks semitic. Definitely. But... it does n't look arabic, nor hebrew... no. It ca n't be.'' 
 `` Professor, what is it?'' 
 `` Follow me to my office. I have a dictionary there.'' 
 `` So, what language is it?'' 
 `` Ugaritic. Or at least... a variation of it.'' 
 `` Ugawhat?'' 
 `` Ugaritic. A dead language. From the Bronze Age.'' 
 `` The - bronze age? Are you sure?'' 
 `` No.... if this report is true, your victim's beater lived in the Bronze Age Levant - or... we could be dealing with a scholar with a sinister hobby. I'd check out the list of scholars who were in touch with her.'' 
 `` Good idea, professor.'' 
 `` I just hope it's not one of my students.'' 
 
 A few minutes later, he had finished writing the translation of the dream. 
 `` There you go.'' 
 
 I read the translation, and I was speechless. 
 
 `` Professor...'' 
 `` Yes, Jimmy?'' 
 `` Do you believe in... reincarnation?'' 
 The professor shook his head. `` Nah, I'm to old for that, son... I'm sure there must be a logical explanation to this. Keep looking.'' 
 
 POLICE STATION. 13:42AM. 
 
 `` I'm back'', said Kaila. `` Got anything?'' 
 `` Yes, Rodriguez. But you're not gon na like it.'' 
 
 She read it. Twice. 
 
 `` You're kidding me. What the hell's this supposed to mean?'' 
 `` Ms. Taylor has been beaten by a man who lived 3500 years ago.'' 
 
 A WEEK LATER. 
 
 `` I have the tapes, officer.'' 
 `` What tapes?'' I asked. 
 `` Remember you suggested me to keep surveillance on my wife? Well, it's here. EVERYTHING. I love my wife, officer. And I want to clear up my name.'' 
 `` Well, thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Taylor. Have a good day.'' 
 
 Kaila approached me from her office. `` What's this?'' 
 `` Mr. Taylor submitted some evidence. 24 hours, seven days... twelve cameras? This guy just spent a fortune on surveillance equipment!'' 
 `` So maybe he is innocent after all.'' 
 `` This is too much for us. We might need some help.'' 
 
 THURSDAY. 11:45. 
 
 `` Well, Evans, what have we got?'' 
 `` The guy even got cameras in the bathroom. Whatever he wanted to surveil, he did it thoroughly.'' 
 `` So we got 24-hour footage on the wife?'' 
 `` Apparently he told her to never leave the house. So, yeah, we got everything in here. And you... wo n't... believe this.'' 
 `` What?'' 
 
 Evans smiled. I'd say he's the brightest one in the team. You could see the sparkles in his eyes whenever he found an interesting clue. 
 
 `` This is a really fascinating case. Every morning, the wife appears with new bruise marks. You can see everything here. But what's most interesting... is... this.'' 
 
 `` She talks in her sleep?'' 
 
 I listened to her words. She was speaking in that language. 
 
 `` James, stop that.'' 
 `` What?'' 
 `` You're peeling your lip off again.'' 
 `` Oh, sorry.'' 
 `` Alright. I'm done'', I said. 
 This was becoming less of a domestic violence case and was becoming more and more like the X-Files. 
 
 My phone rang. 
 `` Yes?'' 
 `` Murphy, you got an urgent call from a Ms. Taylor. She says her husband just disappeared.'' 
 `` What do you mean disappeared? Wait, I'll get it.'' 
 
 I picked up the local phone and took the call. 
 
 `` Hello Ms. Taylor?'' 
 `` Detective Murphy?'' 
 `` Yes, it's me, what happened?'' 
 
 The woman was crying. `` My husband... he's gone!'' 
 `` What do you mean he's gone?'' 
 `` He just vanished... in the mirror.'' 
 `` What mirror?'' 
 `` Right here, in the bedroom! He was just sucked into it!'' 
 `` We'll be right there.'' 
 
 `` What is it?'' 
 `` This is insane, Rodriguez. Either she just killed her husband, or we just fell into the Twilight Zone.'' 
 
 TAYLOR RESIDENCE. 12:10. 
 
 `` So, this is where he left?'' 
 `` Yes. I do n't want to touch it... I do n't know what to do...'' 
 `` For Christ's sake, Ms. Taylor, it's just a mirror, if I touch it nothing will -'' 
 `` Murphy!!!'' 
 
 I do n't know how I got there, but I was in the middle of the desert. And then, I heard a voice in a strange language, yelling at me. 
 `` Oh, you've got to be kidding me.'' 
 I ducked. A little slower and I'd be dead right now. 
 
 Suddenly, I was back in the Taylor's residence, right in front of the mirror. 
 `` Oh my God, Murphy, are you okay?'' 
 
 `` Nobody... touch... anything.'' 
 `` What the hell was that?'' 
 
 Looking at the wall, sticking in front of everyone was an object that would confirm my suspicions. I plucked it out of the wall. 
 `` Oh... my... god.'' 
 
 `` The professor was right, Rodriguez. Look.'' 
 
 Held in my hand was a wooden arrow with a pure bronze arrowhead. 

