I really need to get some sleep, I thought, looking at the brutally slaughtered body of a woman, all but hacked into pieces. Her mouth was open, her tongue lolling out, her unseeing eyes staring into space, like two lifeless orbs similar to those of a fish.

I sighed, the sound lost in the noise typical of a crime scene.There was blood everywhere but no murder weapon. Great. She was probably killed by a serrated 6’ hunting knife according to the preliminary report of the forensic team. A hunter? A retailer selling sporting goods? A maniac? Probably all three.The scuff marks made by the perpetrator were large, the shoe pattern indicated sneakers. Size eleven. The suspect’s approximate height 6’2 and weight near to 180 lbs. Same as mine. Coincidence obviously, I assured myself.

They also found a small piece of bubble gum wrapper near her head. Crumpled, but still recognizable. I could feel the remnants of its flavour on my tongue. I started to get a little uneasy. My phone rang.

“What is it?” I growled.

“Just checking in.” A deep voice on the other side answered.”You haven’t been home in a few days. Everything okay?”

“I’ve been busy.” I replied.”Are you sure things are quiet there?”

“Yes”. And the line went dead. At the exact moment I was interrupted by my partner who asked me to accompany him outside. The murderer had left the crime scene early in the morning according to the account of an eye witness who saw him from her window on the first floor.

“He was tall, had dark hair, was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”I heard her repeat to a policeman who was questioning her.

She stopped when she saw me, her face turned pale, and she started stammering.

Before we could stop her she bolted out of her chair and climbed the stoop to her apartment building, slamming the door shut behind her.

“I think I need a break” I told my partner and walked away, before he could stop me. The description of the suspect, the wrapper, the reaction of the witness, all if it seemed strange to me. I needed to make sure nothing was remiss at home. Where did I put my keys? Did l leave them at the office?

Maybe, I left them in the car?

I drove home to find the front door open. Something was wrong. I unstrapped my gun from the holster and silently made my way inside. The body was fresh laying face down but I recognized him immediately, l had spoken to him on the phone earlier.

The door to my bedroom opened and there in my clothes, my shoes, chewing my favourite gum, flipping a hunting knife in his hand, casually leaning against the door frame, stood my twin. “Looking for these?” he whispered, jiggling my missing house keys.