The Skin Hunters

The Los Angeles River is a perfect hunting ground for a serial killer.

In the concrete arteries of LA, the forgotten disappear without a trace—until their mutilated remains surface like grisly offerings. Detective Harri Harper discovers a killer who doesn't just murder; he performs medieval rituals on living flesh, stripping bone and skin with the precision of a master craftsman who's been perfecting his art for centuries.

The homeless are invisible prey in a city that's forgotten them, making them perfect victims for a predator who hunts in the shadows of urban decay. Each disappearance follows the same terrifying pattern: the victim vanishes, screams echo through the night, and days later, what's left barely resembles human remains.

When the killer grows bold enough to snatch their key witness, Harri and Detective Tom Bards realize they're hunting a methodical predator who's studied historical torture techniques and perfected them for modern prey. The concrete river channels blood as easily as water, and this killer has turned LA's sprawling waterways into his personal laboratory.

Time is running out, the body count is rising, and the killer's confidence is escalating. In the forgotten corners of Los Angeles, a human monster practices medieval methods, and the river keeps flowing with deadly secrets.

Some killers don't just murder. They perfect it as an art form.

I’d been searching for Jared since I woke up early this morning. I’d gone through ten more tents, and no one had seen him. I couldn’t believe Jared would disappear like this. He was too smart and careful. I stood staring at the small island in the center of the concreted LA River contemplating my next move. 


Last night had been a hard one. Screams and shouts from outside my tent woke me up at an ungodly hour and I recognized the signs of someone overdosing. The gurgling sound of retching came from somewhere to the left of me and I’d had to listen to someone’s pain for close to an hour. Another reason why it was good to be inside my tent by six at the latest.


Every neighborhood changes after the sun goes down. This ragtag community is no different. Things always got a little hairy once it got dark out. The drinkers kept drinking into the night and the users still scrounged for their next fix. Things got rowdy, sometimes dangerous. I’d been on the streets for close to three years now and I knew when to keep myself hidden.


Our camp was down in the LA River and that helped keep things somewhat safe. We were far enough away from Skid Row in downtown Los Angeles and all that crazy. It was one of the reasons why I’d chosen this camp. Jared told me he’d made the same calculation. Plus, the view of course. 


I was happy he’d chosen to pitch next to me. His being there made me feel safer, too. I was proud of how both of us got our shit together. Well, for being homeless, that is. Or rather, the unhoused. That’s what we’re called now. 


I still couldn’t believe I was where I was. 


Falling through the cracks didn’t take much for me. It was a series of unfortunate events, as they say. First, I lost my job and couldn’t find another one to pay the rent. My parents died years ago and my grandpa and my brother were dead as well. I had no other family to help me. My friends tried to help out with job referrals, but the jobs never came through and my friends started getting too busy to take my calls. I tried to hang on with credit cards and unemployment in the six months it took my landlord to evict me. In the end, he took me to court. I’d sent out close to four hundred resumes in those six months and didn’t get one damn bite the whole time. 


Once I lost my place, that was it. An address is necessary to get through normal everyday life. It didn’t take long before I was drinking away the day in shame and embarrassment. I’d done things I wasn’t proud of, but I was still standing. At least I had that. 


Jared and I bonded over our love of science fiction. He saw me reading Kurt Vonnegut and it got us talking. We’d both been working through the steps and when things got hard, we leaned on each other. I felt like I’d known him forever and it had only been a month. 


I needed to keep searching for him.