It started as a favor. Gulfport PD had been tracking a string of homicides for months, and while the official investigation was ongoing, the detectives hit a wall. That’s when Detective Quinn reached out to Tasha Alexander. She had the knack for spotting details others missed, and this case needed fresh eyes.
The killings were brutal, calculated, and chillingly precise. All the victims were young women in their mid-20s, last seen leaving bars or nightclubs. The killer left behind no fingerprints, no DNA, and no witnesses, but one clue linked the cases: each victim was found with a small, silver medallion clasped in their hand.
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The Lead
While poring over the case files, Tasha found a crucial connection—a surveillance photo from a Gulfport gas station where the latest victim was last seen. A man with distinctive tattoos on his arms had been caught in the background, lingering too long near the victim. She ran the image through every database she could access, and a hit finally came back. The man was a known drifter named Calvin Price, and he’d recently been arrested for petty theft in Jackson, Mississippi.
Tasha called Detective Quinn. “This guy might not be the killer, but he knows something. I’m heading to Jackson to pick up his trail.”
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A Quick Detour
On her way to Jackson, Tasha called her cousin Dre. He’d been staying out of trouble since Marcus helped him with his last scrape, but Tasha knew he had a knack for navigating the streets and getting people to talk.
“Dre, I’ve got a lead on a big case,” she said. “I need someone who can help me ask the right questions. You in?”
Dre didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Tash. Where do I meet you?”
They rendezvoused at a diner just off I-55. Over coffee, Tasha laid out the details, and Dre’s eyes widened. “A serial killer? Man, you don’t play around.”
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The Trail to Nashville
They quickly learned that Calvin Price had skipped town. He’d been spotted boarding a Greyhound bus to Nashville two days earlier. Without wasting time, Tasha and Dre hit the road. The seven-hour drive gave them time to strategize, though Dre kept cracking jokes to lighten the mood.
“This is some ‘True Detective’ stuff, you know that, right?” Dre said, grinning.
Tasha smirked. “If this were a show, you’d be the comic relief.”
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In Nashville
Once they arrived in Nashville, Tasha and Dre checked into a modest motel and got to work. They hit local shelters, bars, and bus stations, showing Calvin’s photo and asking questions.
After hours of dead ends, they finally caught a break at a dingy bar on the outskirts of the city. A bartender recognized Calvin and said he’d been hanging around with a sketchy crowd near an abandoned warehouse downtown.
“Guy gave me the creeps,” the bartender admitted. “Always talking in circles, like he was hiding something.”
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The Warehouse
Tasha and Dre approached the warehouse cautiously. It was late, the area deserted except for the occasional rumble of a passing train. Inside, the air was thick with dust, the faint scent of mildew hanging in the air.
They split up, Tasha moving silently through the shadows while Dre kept watch near the entrance. As Tasha crept deeper into the building, she spotted a makeshift sleeping area—blankets, empty food containers, and a small pile of objects.
Among the objects was a silver medallion.
Her breath caught. This was it.
Before she could examine it further, a voice echoed from behind her.
“Looking for something?”
Tasha spun around, her hand instinctively reaching for her concealed weapon. Calvin Price stood a few feet away, his eyes wild and his posture tense.
“You’ve been following me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why?”
“I just want to talk,” Tasha said, keeping her tone calm. “You’ve been seen near some crime scenes, Calvin. I think you know more than you’re letting on.”
Calvin’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “You think I’m the guy? I’m not the killer. But I know who is.”
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The Truth Unveiled
Calvin wasn’t the killer, but he was the key to catching him. He confessed to being part of an underground network that trafficked in stolen goods—and occasionally in people. The silver medallions were a calling card, left behind by one of their most dangerous members: a man known only as “Graves.”
“Graves is the one you’re after,” Calvin said, his voice trembling. “But you don’t want to find him. He’s... he’s not like the rest of us. He enjoys it. He kills because he likes it.”
With the information Calvin provided, Tasha contacted the Nashville Police Department. They set up a sting operation, and within 48 hours, Graves was in custody. His capture brought closure to families across multiple states, including those in Gulfport.
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Back to Gulfport
On the drive home, Tasha and Dre reflected on the case.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Dre said, shaking his head. “Chasing serial killers across state lines. What would Marcus say?”
Tasha chuckled. “He’d say I’m stubborn. But he’d also say I did the right thing.”
As they crossed back into Mississippi, Tasha felt a sense of satisfaction. The case had been dangerous, but it reminded her why she’d taken up this work. There were people out there who needed someone like her—someone who wouldn’t stop until justice was served.
And she wasn’t about to let them down.
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