Sarah Murphy

Age: 33

Gender: Female

Occupation: Police Detective

Location: New York City

Is your character Supernatural? No.

If so, what are the details of your characters Supernatural abilities? NA.

Is your Supernatural on the Supernatural Registry? NA.

Sample Post:

It was a morning like all the others. Sarah woke to the sound of the trash truck backing up to reach the dumpster and the familiar rattle of cans and glass crashing into the back before it rumbled further down the street. She laid there with her eyes wide but sleepy, staring upward at the ceiling for a moment as she contemplated going in late. The mobile phone on her bedside table began to vibrate and she flinched as it skittered across the polished wood. Her alarm had not even gone off yet as she pressed the phone to hear ear. There was a murder. Another. One in a long line of murders that were beginning to look strangely similar. Was it a copycat killer? The long gash along the victim’s throat, the deep and blood red script carved against forearms and palms of hands was strikingly familiar. But how could it be a copycat if the details had been kept so secret?

Sarah’s skin began to prickle a bit at the details and she was up before the phone call ended, pulling on a pair of black slacks and a button up blouse. She brushed her hair quickly and slipped into a pair of flats before grabbing her bag and heading out to the lift. She pressed the button and waited, then anxiously took the stairs instead before the elevator could even begin its clattering rise to her floor. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be such an ordinary morning after all. A serial killer was never good news and this was shaping up to be a particularly unnerving case. Sarah had originally brushed off coincidences—a couple of strange phone calls in the middle of the night, a car parked outside her apartment at three a.m. But now even the little things that might be nothing, seemed like something of terrible importance.

The crime scene this morning was gruesome, yet memorable. Through the haze of early morning New York City and the stench of Brooklyn alleyways, the body laid supine, chin tilted up to the sky. The body was stripped, arms out at the side as if in a coffin, the eyes wide and glassy. Rigor mortis had begun to set in. The pale, slender body had been stripped and there, on the forearms, were the familiar carvings. Deep, red gashes that resembled a sort of sick code. A mutilation with a story to tell. Sarah winced as the examiner’s camera flashed beside her. Officer Hamlin stepped over to her, navigating the crime scene with ease.

“There was something strange on your desk this morning.” He looked nervous. “You ought to head back to the office. I can finish up here.”

Later that day, Sarah found herself parked outside Ms. Verina Sinclair’s home. She checked over some notes as the car idled on the side of the street. Sinclair had become a suspect after some investigation of the crime scene and Sarah had been sent in to question her at her home, rather than dragging her down to the precinct, perhaps unnecessarily. It was necessary, Sarah would say, to check all suspects and that, no, this didn’t mean she was under arrest. At least, not yet. She simply wanted to work out a few details, a few little ‘kinks’ in the story. Particularly, she wanted to know why someone would leave an anonymous tip on her desk at work. It had been found just this morning by another officer. No one could remember leaving her a message within the office. None of the other officers had written it. It was just a piece of paper with immaculately printed name: Verina Sinclair.

Detective Murphy’s slender fist rapped gently against Sinclair’s door, before pushing it open. An officer stood across from the woman in the front room and Sarah gave him a nod before stepping further inside and looking to the woman on the sofa. “Ms. Sinclair? I’m Detective Murphy. I’m just here to ask you a few questions.” Sarah adjusted the gun and badge at her side before sitting down across from the woman. Sarah drew a breath. “Can you think of any reason why I would come into work this morning and find a note with your name on my desk?” Sarah flipped open a notebook, her pen gently tapping for a moment against the pad of paper before she drew her eyes back to the woman across from her. This was all getting much too close to home. Literally.