[ 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 .

I stretched my legs out on the sofa, the cat purring contentedly on my lap. Retiring from detective work had n't been a easy choice, but moments of relaxation like this made it feel worth it. 
 
 `` Honey, I'm home!'' 
 
 `` Hi, Mark!'' I got up and kissed him on the cheek. `` How was your day?'' 
 
 `` Oh, the usual. Digging out the old case files?'' he asked, motioning towards the pile of papers on the coffee table. 
 
 `` Just the unsolvable one.'' 
 
 He sighed. `` Honey, you've been working on this case for years. You're going to drive yourself insane at this rate.'' 
 
 `` I know, I know. It's just that there was a piece on the news of a missing woman who seems a lot like the other victims.'' 
 
 `` What, a brunette? There's billions of people with brown hair. Not every missing person with brown hair was murdered, you know.'' He rolled his eyes. `` Anyways, I'm going to grab something to eat. Want anything?'' 
 
 As I shook my head, he disappeared into the kitchen. I knew it was silly to be going over this old case, but I knew in my gut that this woman was the latest victim of my serial murderer. 
 
 After all, she seemed so much like me. 
 
 Morbid curiosity was what led me to this case in the first place. The first murder took place just a couple of months after my wedding. A young brunette girl in her late 20s was murdered a couple towns away. The second victim, a woman of similar description, was found just a couple weeks later. My murderer had claimed 16 victims so far, and had yet to be caught. All brunettes, all eerily close to my age. 
 
 I stayed up late that night, watching the news long after Mark fell asleep. They found the woman. She had been killed two weeks ago, her body found bruised and bloody in an abandoned home on the other side of town. Just like the others had been found. 
 
 I thought back to two weeks ago. What had happened? Not much. There were n't any good movies playing at the theater. The high school was putting on a play. That new restaurant had opened downtown. Mark and I had gotten into a pretty big fight, so we wound up canceling our reservation. Mark stormed out of the house and did n't come back until sunrise. Mark was out all night... 
 
 Were n't Mark and I fighting a year and a half ago, when the last girl was murdered? And seven months before that. And before that. And before that. And the first occurred around the time when we were fighting about whether or not we should go on a honeymoon. Mark had disappeared every time. 
 
 It could n't be, it just could n't. I looked at the man sleeping peacefully next to me on the sofa, the love of my life. Slowly, as so not to disturb him, I got up and went to bed. I needed some time to think.
