My Murder

The body had been carved and diced and placed neatly on the bed. The sheets dripped red with blood. The head was obviously missing, Cindy observed. It was evident the killer had wanted to leave his signature.

"It's a woman's body," the Chief of Police said as he strolled up behind her. "We've already sent a sample of the blood to forensics for DNA testing. They will call in as soon as they have the record match."

"If the woman's record is on file," Cindy replied dryly. "If she hasn't been off-world, she may not have been recorded." Cindy looked around at the room. There wasn't a thing out of place. It was very tidy. The videophone was still blinking with the emergency code it's owner had typed in.

"What a scene to be welcomed to," the Chief said as if reading Cindy's thoughts.

"It's not exactly the thing a college student expects to see after a ballgame," Cindy agreed.

The Chiefs personal communicator beeped twice. He removed it from his front pocket and flipped it open. "Chief Redding here," he said into the receiver.

"Chief, this is Grant in Forensics," the voice on the other side of the communicator said, "We need you to send Ms Winters down here right away."

The chief looked a little puzzled. "What do you need with my profiler?" he asked.

"It's really important Chief, just send her."

The chief shrugged and looked at Cindy. She acknowledged his shrug with one of her own.

In the minutes it took to fly her hover-car from the crime scene to the forensics lab, she wondered what they could possibly want from her.

She arrived at the lab office, observing the piles of papers yet to be filed. It was a sad reminder that even in this day and age of technology there were still many cases yet to be solved.

Grant walked up to Cindy, looking quite sombre. "I have something to show you," he said, pulling her gently by the arm.

He wasn't bad looking, for a science geek, she thought - as he pulled her over to his computer in the lab. The computer screen blinked in giant red letters "Match Found".

"We have a match for the record of the DNA found at the crime scene," he said sombrely. He slowly reached for the enter button and pressed it.

A file flashed on screen with a familiar name and face.

"That's my file," Cindy said in confusion. She turned to Grant. "Is this some kind of sick joke??"

"I ran it through five times," Grant said. "It came up the same every time."

"Well, there's got to be some mistake," Cindy said.

"Unless its a clone," Grant said.

Cindy paused a moment. "Or I'm the clone..."