Examine the reports

I settle into the motel room where I'm staying and sip a cup of bitter, black coffee. I get comfortable and lie in the bed, placing the police reports and autopsy reports on the bedspread before me, ready to begin my meticulous analysis. I take my journal from the side pocket of my caramel leather jacket and open it to a blank page.

I write the date and time at the top, ready to record my findings. My heart pounds in anticipation of what I might uncover. As I start reading through the police reports, I find myself jotting down key information and observations. The similarities between the cases are striking.

Each victim seemed to have no known reason for their actions, and all of them had been found in their dorm rooms with no witnesses. The autopsy reports reveal the same manner of **** for each girl, exsanquination due to self inflicted sharp **** trauma to both wrists. In layman's terms, they all slit their wrists in the bathtub and bled out.

I flip through the pages, my pen scribbling notes on the details of their injuries. My mind races as I compare the reports. I take a deep breath, trying to process the information and form a cohesive picture. The evidence seems to suggest a pattern, but there's still no clear motive or culprit. I set down the reports and the autopsy files on the bed, feeling overwhelmed by the task at hand.

I read the notes in my journal, my mind working overtime to connect the dots. The dormitories, Bathory Row, they call them, still loom in my thoughts, and I can't shake the feeling that the key to solving this mystery lies in these files. Maybe I need to go over each one thoroughly, victim by victim.