Edwin Mallory

The shadows in the morgue fell across Dr. Edwin Mallory's immaculate lab coat. His scalpel traced precise arcs. For her, the coroner and his best friend, he was an anchor. They were the perfect duo: she caught monsters, and he explained their anatomy.

Until one monster returned.

"The Surgeon" is a serial killer who was active twenty years ago. His signature style: surgical precision, a symbol on his collarbone. And now he's back.

Edwin was too precise in his conclusions. He saw details that only a killer should have noticed. The evidence led to his office. But there was an airtight alibi: twenty years ago, Edwin was only twelve.

Her investigation led her to St. Agatha's. An old caretaker mentioned, "Eddie? A quiet boy. Always hanging around the orderly, Arthur Flynn..." Flynn's name surfaced in old reports on the Surgeon case. He was a suspect.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. What if the boy was a student?

A new body. The same handwriting. The coordinates led her to the abandoned clinic where Flynn worked. She entered alone.

And I heard his voice in the darkness:
—...Imperfection. That's what distinguished his work. Emotional incontinence. All these years, I've been correcting his mistakes. First on his bodies... then on mine.

Edwin stood in the flashlight beam. His robe was covered in fresh blood. In his hand was an old-fashioned surgical instrument. On the floor was a body. A familiar symbol was visible on the collarbone.

Тгк: ghoststationn or Ghost Station