“We’ve been hearing complaints at 1408 Ocean View. Gonna need you there as soon as possible.”

The shadow across the detective’s face lifted for a moment as he tipped his head up. The wire of the communicator dangled loose, snagged on the gear stick. He leaned closer to the speaker, his words delivered with perfect pace and sharp clarity.

“We’re on it,” he said, the weight of his thick British accent muffled slightly by the bristle of a bushy moustache.

Beside him, his partner tightened his grip on the wheel, shifting gear before muttering under his breath.

“Listen, Matthew… we’ll have to talk about this another time.”

A frustrated silence settled between them, heavy and unyielding, carrying itself the rest of the way.

They both knew the place.

The car rolled to a stop.

“Ocean View,” Matthew murmured, stepping out into the salt-stained air. “We’re here.”

The house loomed before them, its windows fractured like broken teeth, its walls mottled with damp stains that spread like bruises. The complaints hadn’t been about noise, not exactly. Neighbours spoke of sounds something shifting, scraping, as though wood dragged across stone. Others swore they’d seen figures moving behind the curtains, though the house had stood abandoned for years.

The front door gave way at their touch. Inside, the air was thick, metallic, and stale.

“Takw it easy here mate, check your corners,” The detectives lips trembles as his moustache wobbled.

The musty air was a dead give away, lights smashed. Glass and dust decorated the creaking floorboards. The detectives walked sideways, through the porch and into the hallway. The first room to the right gave a horrible stench, the door ajar like it had burped up bad breath.

That was when they saw her.

A body slumped in the centre of the room, her back exposed. Flesh was missing in patches, replaced by wooden tiles that fitted together like the pieces of a jigsaw. Some were loose, others missing altogether, revealing raw muscle and sinew beneath. Blood spattered the walls in tiny dots, deliberate and precise, as though painted there by some unseen hand.

Matthew froze. “What in God’s name…”

One of the tiles shifted with a faint creak, as though the puzzle was not yet finished, still waiting for someone to complete it.

And in the silence, both men understood: whoever had begun this was not finished.