As I slide the bag across the table, the hooded figure’s lips form a snarl.

“Where the hell did you get this?” They asked, rage boiling over.

I prop my legs up on the table, interlocking my fingers. “I believe I should be asking you the questions here, pal.”

Their eyes widened at the coldness in voice, then their gaze turns to realization. I had caught them red-handed. I throw a few pieces of paper on the table, along with some pictures.

“Does this man look familiar?” I ask harshly, pointing a finger at one of the pictures. The man’s name was David Woods, his hair unkempt and dirty, just like his face… and his backstory.

The figure it front of me opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it as no words come out.

I clear my throat. “So, David,” I continue, a smirk forming on my face as I figured out the person in front of me was the criminal in the pictures, “What did you do to Amelia? You cannot lie! We’ve got you cornered!”

He throws his hands in the air in defense, “Nothing! We have past relations, sure, but I didn’t lay a finger on her!”

I grimace as I realize what I had to do. I put the gloves I had on a few moments ago back on and unzip the bag I had slid across the table. Inside, was the remains of Amelia, I throw a lab result paper at him. It was a fingerprint scan, and his fingerprints matched exactly to the ones on the bag.

“You’re sick,” I mutter, shaking my head in disgust. A stupid and lying criminal? How absurd can someone be?

                                           *** Finally, after months of hard labor, my work on this case had come to an end. I watch on the TV as David Woods gets charged with life in prison with no parole for the unspeakable things he did to Amelia. People can say fingerprints are insipid all they want, but as a detective, they can make or break a case. In David’s instance? They had made sure he’d never see the sun again.

Case closed.