Mitch was a wreck. Someone had committed the murder. Murders don’t commit themselves. The problem was, he didn’t know who. This was a problem for a detective. He returned to his office. Someone left a note on his desk. It read “I can show you the killer’s face. Go down the hall and make a left.” Mitch heard a noise and knew the killer was near. He ran down the hall and pulled out his gun. He turned the corner, but found nothing. No one was there, and whoever was now wasn’t. He searched the room top to bottom. It was empty. Just a lot of dust and a cracked mirror.

He pulled out his cell phone and checked for missed calls. Suddenly, the phone in his office rang. He ran to it. It was the killer. He could feel it.

“You’re near me. Or should I say, I’m near you. HaHaHa.” Mitch looked around nervously. Suddenly the police broke in to his office and handcuffed Mitch.
“We got the killer.” The Sergeant said. “Guy didn’t even know he had a split personality. Even phoned himself. He never would’ve found the killer.”