text: They had cleared the brush forest that had built up over years of no maintenance. They had drained the swampy marsh that now engulfed half the property. All in all things were going perfect. Frank and Esther devised this plan to encourage a search party, the police would have people clearing their land in no time; just in time for planting this season's crops. With any luck, Frank could play off his wife's "disappearance" as a spell of Dementia. Finally things were looking up as the couple dreamed to sell their land and move south. Lieutenant Jacobs had seen his share of missing persons cases. None of these cases were as peculiar as this. Esther Monroe had vanished, no trace, no evidence, even the husband was ruled out in the first couple days. This was truly a hunt for the ages. Having been leading the dredging party in the drained marsh, he was losing hope when he heard the cry of a volunteer. "We have remains here sir,this may be her." All of the available squad cars had reported to county road 36 to aid in the digging efforts. So far enough bones and remains have been found to amount a dozen casualties. Looking back at the top of the hill Jacobs spots a panicked Frank Monroe, and an even more surprising Esther by his side, weeping, but alive. Back at the station, the Monroe's laid out there elaborate plan. It seems they had the initial phone call, press conferences, even Frank's alibi worked out. They talked about having Esther "reappear" from a dementia spell in the woods. It seems like they're telling the truth, albeit a far fetched plan for free landscaping, I couldn't imagine making something up that was so in depth. Even if the story is true however, it doesn't explain the growing number of identified bodies hidden in a shallow mass grave on their property. This was just the beginning of a long night. Half a pack of smokes and 7 hours later a stack of folders compiled an encompassing list on the bodies found thus far. Identities and backgrounds show no significant connections, not even geographically. The newest victim showed within the last 6 months, the Monroe's would become the prime suspects. Pleading for innocence, the Monroe's are ushered In separate directions, they are to be further interrogated separately. Initial interrogations show to no avail, Frank is adamant of his and his wife's innocence. Esther is a bit more puzzling, holes in her stories, inconsistency in memory, maybe she did suffer memory problems after all. Suddenly a break in the case is found in the wine cellar where Esther was hidden during her "disappearance". A pile of blooded laden clothes haphazardly buried with a locked journal. Pages of the journal depict how the victims were lured into the house though fake sale ads and claims of work needing to be done. Ironically, several of the people had came to landscape the yard. We had found Frank dead in his cell the next morning, before we got a chance to read the page about him. It seems his wife had poisoned him the day they were arrested. It seems she wanted to finish him off and collect on his life insurance. It was an open and shut case, Esther was the only one who could have written that journal. When the news broke that 3 more bodies had appeared at the house on county road 36, authorities were stunned and heartbroken. Esther had never left custody, and now Lieutenant Jacobs was to be autopsied the next day; he had fell victim to an unknown killer. The case ran cold after a few years went by, tapes of the interrogations and of Esther Monroe mourning her husband from a jail cell are all we have for testimony. Never a motive found, the notebook that was retrieved revealed much; but so little at the same time. Even though the death toll officially had climbed to 28, the media ran with "the 36 ghosts of 36". I've came out of retirement for this. A large contract with a popular tv streaming service sees something in a washed up reporter. There is to be a documentary built on an unfinished case, and I to be its author. But now as I stand in an excavated swamp behind the house where so many does, it feels eerie to say the least. Cameras roll as I speak of the lives lost from an unknown killer. Some of the victims had families, some had criminal records, and 3 wore the Maren county trooper badge. "Blood soaked clothes covered the killers bible, an extensive journal with entries of every victim." I speak to the camera. Continuing my report, "the blood found on the clothes belongs to several victims, and one set of DNA is speculated to belong to the killer." As I shuffle through the leaves around the infamous wine cellar "even Frank and Esther couldn't find a killer that lived under their nose" are. my closing remarks for the day. My cameraman, Mark packs up the van for the night, and I decided to linger around just a while longer since I drove here separately this morning. It's a shame that this location had to be home to such heinous crime. This land is beautiful, and with a little work, this home would be a prize on the market. Striking a match, I watch the van pull off as I light the first smoke off the evening. Staring off into the woods, I wonder about how I'm killing myself with cigarettes and vodka. My grandkids hate that I smoke. What's the use of quitting now? I hear the leaves rustle begins me and I turn to a familiar face, one I haven't seen in years. "I know you! You aren't supposed to be alive, this can't be!" I stutter. The man smiles at me before he cracks a smile, furnishing a .45 . I really wish I could show the world, this case is not over. Hunched over with blood spilling from my chest, I draw shallowed breaths. I've became number 29. The tapes from the documentary went viral before their release date was set. Someone had leaked the tapes to online forum sites and it caught fire. The late Mario Montana was a championed reporter for his 40 year career in journalism; but his last work took his life and legacy. Police quarantined the house off county road 36. Some say it should be burned, others say it should never be touched again. One thing is for sure, the people remain terrified of the thought of a killer on the loose.