Discretion

[Skylar]

“What do you mean I have to leave?”

“Get your bag. Go! Now!”

“No, I won’t leave you. I can stay, fight. I can be helpful damn it!”

“I can’t let you die for the mistakes I’ve made....I’m sorry...”

“Die?” His hand came from nowhere, and I’ll never forget the instant pain when the butt of his revolver struck me on the head, or the throbbing when I came to.

“John?” Her lips parted in a groan as her hand came to her head. Her hair was sticky, and when she pulled it away, blood stained her hand. Her blood. Instantly her heart began to pound as she thought back on what had happened just before....

“John!!?” She brought herself to her feet, a bit off balance, but quickly regaining it. She was in the back room, the hidden back room, which looked as if no one had entered. She reached back quickly, feeling the handle of her hand gun still secure in the back of her pants. Silently she moved toward the well-hid door and listened.

Nothing.

A deep inhale, and silent exhale. Nimble digits wrapped around the grip, as the other hand pressed the door onward. “I can’t let you die for the mistakes I’ve made.” What the fuck did that mean? She shook the thought from her head, least for now, and pushed the door open, pistol drawn.

Brass covered the floor, and the smell of stale gunpowder filled the air. She froze. Eyes scanned the room feverishly, but there was no movement, no sound. Her heart begged to pound out of her chest as she moved around the table in the middle of the room.

“Brad?” She knew that sneaker all too well, and moving around more, the young man that was wearing it, lifeless in a pool of blood. “Oh my god! Brad!!?” She knelt beside him and felt for a pulse she knew wasn’t there. What is going on here?!!!

The tears burnt her eyes as she stroked his cheek. He was just a kid for christ sake, running errands and doing odd jobs for John......John..

Again she was on her feet, wiping the tears off her own cheek. She pushed the kitchen door open and moved into the living room. Two more bodies littered the floor there, blood everywhere. The closest was a man that bared no familiarities to her at all, the other however....

“God no.....” She couldn’t remember if she had ran, stumbled...but she was knelt it his side. The blank expression in his eyes told her he was gone. She was too late. Mouth gaped open in a silent scream for help, a scream she couldn’t hear because of him. “Why! Why god damn it!?” She beat her fists against his chest, and then crumbled onto it in a fit of raged tears.

[Skylar]

It seemed like hours she lay there beside him. Lost, if she was even there, really. She moved her head up his chest, kissing his cheek, a strange noise grabbing her attention for a second. She sat up and patted his chest, only to hear it again. Reaching into his breast pocket of his shirt, she pulled up a small folded piece of paper. The outside simply said.. “Meg.”

She felt the lump form in her throat as she unfolded the paper and read the words written in his hand.
“Money.”
“Go fast.”
Love always, John.

Money? She searched her thoughts for a moment and remembered the stash of cash they had upstairs. She looked at her watch, not much time had elapsed at all. Soon, cops would be swarming this place. She stuffed the paper in her pocked and dashed up the stairs into the bathroom. Above the toilet hung a lovely shelf with men and womans toiletries. Grabbing tightly she ripped it from the wall and tossed it aside. Behind it was a panel. Making no haste she tore it open as well and pulled a light-blue back pack from it. She didn’t need to look inside, she knew what was there.

Down the stair she flew, back into the hidden room she had woken up in. Another bag was there, the one he had already packed for her, grabbing it she headed out the back door, only taking a moment to look back at the house she had called home for the last two years. The home where she was suppose to become a wife, mother.....a house that was now filled with death.....

A few blocks down she heard the sirens, she knew where they were headed, what they would find there....but why was she running? Hailing a cab, she went to the only place she knew to go. The knock upon the door in itself was urgent...

“Who’s there?”

“Open up Jake, it’s Meg.”

She heard the locks unlock, the chains come undone and the door came open. “Girlie girl whatcha doin here?” She moved inside, slamming the door behind her. “John’s dead.” She swallowed hard as she turned toward Jake. “What the fuck is going on....whoever it was killed Brad, too.” There was a strange look on his face, a look she didn’t like at all. “What is going on, what do you know!?”

“Shit...oh shit...Meg...” He scurried like a rat looking for his cheese and soon he handed her a cell phone. “Take it, there are numbers already programmed into it, but you have to leave, now! Fuck, I have to leave now. Go Meg, go as far as you can.”

Confusion was an understatement as she looked down at the phone in her hand. “Go? Go where? I don’t have anywhere to fucking go!? John is dead, did you hear me. He’s fucking dead!” She couldn’t stop the tears this time, frankly she didn’t want to. “Yes, I heard you. Be happy you don’t know shit Meg and leave. Just forget it, forget this life, make a new one. I’ll be in touch soon, but you have to leave now.......it’s not safe here.”

Not safe? What had she done? What had any of them done? He obviously saw the question playing across her face. “God damn it Meg, go. You have to trust me. When have I ever steered you wrong?!” He was right, he had always looked out for her since they were kids..”Jake...I.” He cut her words short. “No Meg, you don’t. You don’t gotta do anything but get as far away from this place as possible, you get me? Go, I’ll be in touch.”

He wasn’t going to tell her anything, and as of now, she knew absolutely nothing. Save for the fact she had to leave, which seemed to be the only thing anyone was worried about. And so she did just that. In a daze she moved out the door, back into the sun that didn’t even seem real anymore....

[Skylar]

Three weeks later.....

The seedy motel room was less then a home but she at least managed to get herself out of state. Her money supply was more then adequate, but she wanted to maintain on the down low until she heard something....from anyone...

Days and nights she spent looking through the contacts in the phone she had gotten from Jake, and none if it made any sense to her. They were not named, but numbered only, and when she tried to call them...all of them, she never got an answer, voice mail....anything.

She flopped back on the bed, laying the phone on her chest. She couldn’t remember the last good nights sleep she had had. Well, that’s a lie, she could remember, but chose to forget it. It hurt too bad to recall..Her lids fell lazy, fluttering in open then closed. It was only the vibration on her chest that caused them to snap open.

Incoming call from #6

“Hello?”

“Are you safe?”
It was Jakes voice, but something told me not to say his name.

“Yeah, you?”

“For now.”
He sighed heavily.
“Listen, there’s no reason as of now to think this line is compromised.”

“Compromised?”

“Just listen...I don’t wanna know where you are, alright? Never tell anyone that calls you on this phone where you are. Understand?”

She nodded her head, so confused. It had been three weeks already.

“Meg! Tell me you understand.”

“I understand what you’re saying, I just don’t know why.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you soon. Take care of yourself.”

And the line was dead. Her lips parted slightly, eyes staring off into nothing. She ran her hand along her forehead, resting it against the side of her head. She couldn’t just live the rest of her life running. And from what? She had no clue.

[.deceitful.]

The Present --

I cringed, squeezing my eyes tight instinctively as the morning sun shone through the blinds. Was it time to get up already? It seemed I slept only in blinks these days, and blinks only. Meanwhile, time passed me by, leaving me older and...nevermind. Who cares.

Rolling over, my feet hit the cold hard floor and my toes curled. On the nightstand I could see my gun and the holster left where I tossed it after getting back last night. And then i'd fallen on the bed fully clothed, and slept. Hard. I didnt dream. Dreams were phantasms of a pure heart's wishes and I...

I got up. I showered. I didnt shave though. The stubble on my face helped me fit in places where other detectives could not. Besides, I liked it. A glass of orange juice and a couple of frozen Jimmy Dean sausage biscuits was my breakfast. Probably the healthiest thing I'd eat all damn day. Maybe.

And then it was off to the station. I knew what'd happen when I got there, and it damn sure did. As soon as I walked in, he stared at me, expressionless and tight lipped. I knew that look. He was exasperated, tired of me, and altogether unsure what to do with me. I grunted a good morning. His response? "What the hell happened last night?!" ...told you it would happen.


11:37 PM
The Night Before --

When I'd left the station, he'd looked at me, his eyes asking a question both he and I already knew the answer to. That answer was all I could think of. You see, earlier that day I'd hauled in some stinking lowlife with a rap sheet as long as a porn star's penis. In mere hours, he was out again. Something about not enough evidence.

It pissed me off.

He'd went free again and I was sure some poor little innocent child would bear the brunt of that bad decision. Screw the force, I was bagging this dirtbag even if it cost me my job.

I went home like I always did, but I was just going through the motions. Dinner. Tv. A drink or two, a couple of phone calls. Honestly, I was trying to make up my mind. What should I do? It was late when I grabbed my coat, my badge and my gun, and headed to the crackhouse I knew he'd be at. I told myself I'd just scare him a little and hope for the best.

I was lying to myself like a wimpy nerd telling himself that everybody picked on him because they were jealous, and not because he was a wimpy nerd. I lied to myself all the way there, because I didnt want to admit I knew exactly what I was doing.

He made it easy for me though.

Turns out he was already scared of me. When I shoved the door open, his boys were waiting. When I saw the shadows move, I dived behind a table, the big revolver filling my hand with it's comfortable weight. I fired, peeking from the behind the table, the acrid stench prickling my nose.

It was over soon, too soon. I only had to reload once, but there were five bodies lying around. One of them was an anorexic crack whore whose luck had run out when she decided to shoot at me. Outside, blue and red lights flickered through a glassless window.

Back to the Present --

Tiredly, I dropped into a shitty chair with no support, shrugging as I looked around for the coffee. "What...this about the whore?" I shrugged again. I knew I would have to explain what happened to my superiors, and I only intended to do it one time. Stan, perplexed, muttered a "fuck it" and threw a file on my desk. "I know you're definitely off that case. Take this. Something even you cant fuck up." I looked at it.

A three week old double homicide? This was a slap on the wrist, I knew it.

[Skylar]

Each and every breath echoed in my ears, only to be followed by the erratic beating of my heart. So much blood, and that horrible smell of gun smoke that even those that don’t shoot guns can’t mistake. But after that, no....not after, none of that mattered after I saw the look on his lifeless face. Scared. Alone...I opened my mouth to scream his name, but nothing came out, least not in the nightmare I was having....

Beep...beep...beep....

“John!!” I sat straight up in bed, sweat dripping off my body, giving the alarm a harder thumping then it needed. I wondered if the nightmares would ever stop, but honestly I knew they wouldn’t. At least not anytime soon. I even went so far as to try to talk myself in believing that it was all one big nightmare, that none of it had really happened, but even that failed....of course.

With a squeak of the shower handle the water sprang to life. I rested my right hand on the wall while the other hung almost lifelessly, my face down, the water flooding over me. I stared down, watching the water swirl down the drain, wishing my troubles would go with it. Troubles that I still knew nothing about.

I don’t recall the shower, but I knew I smelled better. Wrapping a towel around my body, I walked back out into the room I’ve called home for weeks now. It was a shitty existence, nothing like home anyways.

On the table by the bed the phone began to vibrate. Before I knew it, it was in my hand and I was looking at it. Jake...

“Hey.”
My voice was cheerful, maybe he would tell me I could come home...

“Who is this?”

I didn’t know the voice on the other end...
“Who is this?”

“Don’t say a word, nothing!!”

I knew that voice....it was Jake, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t know anything...

The gunshot echoed over the phone. After that I heard nothing but the phone falling. My phone. I scurried to pick it up, my hands were trembling...

“Do I have your attention now?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, tell me where it is?”

His voice was creepy. Creepy in the sense that I felt uncomfortable with just the sound of it. Even if he was proclaiming his undying love for me, it would be creepy. None the less, I had no clue what he was talking about.

“Where what is? Why are you doing this to me!?”
I sounded desperate, pathetic really.

“To you? No, no Megan, to me... I didn’t start this, but I damn sure plan to finish it. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

The line went dead. Megan...how did he know my name? It was obvious Jake had given him some kind of information, unless he already knew it. Almost tossing aside the thought of Jakes demise, I was glad I hadn’t disclosed my location. But this, this drew the line and I decided right then and there that I was heading home. I tossed on the clothes that were laying around, and shoved the rest of my belongings back into my bags. I’d be on the first bus back home, and I’d be there by tomorrow....I was tired of running from a phantom....

[King]

That night, three weeks ago. . .

It was a typical night. Some moron had crashed a main server at headquarters so I had to stay later than usual. The reservations for my girlfriend and I to the best Italian restaurant in town, which I had to get six months ahead of time, were now null and void; I got caught with my pants down and got a flat tire on the way home without a spare, so now I was walking; and to make matters worse, the prissy little bitch wasn't answering her phone. Yeah, it was a typical Friday night - shitty.

Fortunately, I hadn't gotten into my predicament on the wrong side of town. I found myself walking through a rather classy residential neighborhood, the kind where you could tell decent people lived. Or, at least that's what I thought.

I was passing by a nice sized house, the kind you would want to settle down and start a family in, when I heard a loud bang echo from inside. I had two options then:

A.) I could simply ignore it and continue minding my own business,

or,

B.) I could investigate the sound and make sure nothing was going on.

I should've fucking picked option-a.

Deciding it was my duty as a curious, law-abiding Caucasian male to make sure everything was in order, I silently made my way from the sidewalk to the side of the large house. I climbed on top of the AC unit and carefully positioned myself against the nearest window so that I could clearly see into the dimly lit house. From my vantage point, I could see through two parallel rooms and into another whose door was angled, but lit the brightest.

That's when I saw the first body.

I could see nothing more than the the corpse's shoes, which lay obtusely pointed toward the ceiling; there was a thick, black mass that pooled beneath them. I could see shadows wrestling in the room's light, followed by another bang!. I heard no grunt or thump, so I assumed it was a miss. Suddenly, three men came bursting through the angled door and stumbled out of my sight into a darker region of the house.

BANG!, and then a pause. . . BANG!, and then another pause.

This silence was different, however. It was the pause that was deviated by the sound of steps, but not just any steps. It was the sound of expensive, quality heels against tile and wood flooring, the kind of steps you take when examining a job well done. It was the steps of a professional, the steps of someone who had been trained to end lives. It was the sound of steps I knew all too well. . .

I'd become so enthralled that I failed to notice the man looking directly at me. We locked eyes for only a moment, and as a sliver of the room's light graced his face, I recognized Him instantly. I'm willing to bet the feeling was mutual, for before I could react to the fear suddenly pumping through my every vein like liquid fire, I was launched from the top of the AC unit by a bullet as it ripped through my left shoulder and sent me soaring to the ground.

I didn't even feel it. Without so much as a thought, I rolled over to my right side and pushed myself to my feet. I was already running. I didn't bother looking back - I knew he was following me. Shit, shit, shit! How the fu--

My thoughts were cut short as another bullet bit into my body, this time my leg, and sent me stumbling down into the cold concrete. Again, I was back on my feet as quickly as I had fallen. I knew he had gained considerable ground on me from that fall.

BANG! This time it was it was just beneath my shoulder blade, closer to my lung. My mind might have been capable of continuing, but my body certainly wasn't. My breathing was getting shorter and more hastened; I could feel myself staggering, slowing down. At the rate I was going. . . I would've been dead.

But that's when the sirens began blaring. If there was one thing my uninvited guest didn't like, it was unwanted (especially unneeded) attention. The shots stopped coming - the sound of his alligator shoes patting against the road soon fell silent - and when I finally looked back to see my assailant I was alone. I could see the reds and blues painting the neighborhood's houses as the cars sped toward the house. I had to make myself scarce.

Ring, ring, ring. . .

My phone?! I still had my phone on me! I winced as I lowered my hand into my pocket, retriving my cell to see "Alexandria" in bright blue letters.

"You rang?" Her voice was doused in aggitation, as I expected it to be.

"Alex, I've been shot."

"What?!"

"It's Him. They're back - it's my fault, I made a mistake."

"Wait, calm down. There's no way he cou--,"

"I know what the fuck I saw, Alex. It's Him - them!"

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"I-- I don't know. . . fuck, I'm. . ."

"Christian?! Christian?!"

She was screaming pointlessly. I had already passed out, slouched against the side of some obscured building. The last thing I remembered was a woman leaving that house, running off in some direction.

[.deceitful.]

Later That Day --

After glancing over the file, I was becoming more and more convinced that I was getting the shitty end of somebody's stick. A stick they were in the process of jamming down my throat. It stunk to high hell, but right now I didnt really have a choice.

In the meantime, I marched into the office with the glass walls, climbing the short steps to the mini Mount Olympus in which the gods that ruled my life dwelled. Pft. Yeah right, they were all drunken with delusions of grandeur more potent than any tequila I could ever take shots of.

As always, I drowned them out, preferring to pretend I held interest in their words, while reading the looks on their faces like an open book. They, like Stan, had no idea what to do with me. When I was fresh out the academy, wanting nothing more than to be a detective like my old man, they could bark an order and I would jump to the moon.

I wasn't like that anymore. I wasn't moldable anymore. I didnt dream of justice anymore. I didnt think I could make a difference anymore. I knew too much and had seen even more.

But I was good at what I did. Aint that some shit? One of them said something about, "Look, we thought about a short suspension. But we really need as many men on the street as we can get. You're not burned out yet, right?" He chuckled, like what he said was fucking funny. But he soon found himself the only one laughing and that died away quickly.

So they decided to take me off that case. Said I was too close. Had gotten too involved. They were putting me on another case. I said ok. I didnt care. I'd taken down the slimeball I was after.

When I left, I grabbed the file, snagged a young rookie to drive me around, and ignored Stan's gloating face. I guess he didnt learn his lesson the last time I kicked his teeth in. Or was that all in my imagination? ...who knows, but he definitely had some crooked teeth.

I made the kid take the long way. Stopped for a street vendor's hotdog. Idle chit chat. I knew he was nervous because sweat stood on his brow. I was like him once, young, dumb and full of cum. Was I really that scary now?

We talked some more. He said he admired the undercover work i'd done, taking down more than my fair share of dealers, pimps and killers. I started to ask what good had an of it done, but I didnt. He didnt deserve my cynicism.

Lucky for him, by the time he started getting annoying, we were at the house in the suburbs where a couple of idiots breathed their last after facing the business end of somebody's gun. Whoopdee doo.

Once inside, it was like a switch clicked. I started noticing shit, even though it was an old crime scene. The kid handed me CSI photos and started arranging them where they were originally taken. He was pretty good. He mentioned that some of the photos were taken outside, where a pool of blood and a trail of spatters had been found...but no body.

I crouched down with a grunt, eyeing the photos and absently scratching the thick hair on my cheek. Already I could tell something was off. I could do this one of two ways. I could probe deeper and see if something was underneath waiting to blow up in my face like a goddamn Taliban IED. Or I could ignore it, act like I made an effort, and write the case off like they wanted me to.

I hated being good at what I did nowadays. Did me more harm than good. Fuck me sideways.

[Skylar]

The Present.

The bus ride was fucking bullshit. Screaming kids, bitchy old people...I couldn’t even sleep. We hit my home town and I wasted no time getting off that shit heap, but when I did, I paused. I swear to christ I thought my chest was going to cave in.

I slid my arms into one backpack, and slung the other over my shoulder. I still carried that damn cell phone in my pocket, but truth be told, I considered leaving it behind. Mainly because, if he had it, they could get a hold of my whenever they wanted. That thought alone sent a shiver down my spine.

It was just a few blocks, and as I rounded the corner I could still see the police tape near the door, only it was torn as if someone had entered it after the fact. I glanced around, not wanting to be noticed by any of my old neighbors, averted my eyes to the ground and began to walk toward the house.

When I got across the street, a few houses down from mine, I noticed a dark stain in the cement. Blood? That was odd, but I thought nothing more on it. I hit the alleyway that came around to the back of my house and crept, like a criminal into my own yard.

I stayed close to the house, thinking I heard the murmur of a couple voices, but told myself I was paranoid. Like, who wouldn’t be? Looking into the window into the back room, I felt the tears burn my eyes slightly, but I took a deep breath, swallowed and moved around to the side of the house.

I was less cautious as I peeked in that window, having talked myself into the place being empty. But to my surprise there was somebody inside, two somebodies. I pulled myself back quickly, and wondered if my gasp was audible.

I ran. I ran until my feet were pounding, and then some. When I finally stopped, my throat burned as I tried to breath. I told myself I’d go back later, when no one would be there, and if there was, it would be obvious. For now though....

Back to a shitty motel, in the town where I had lived almost all my life. I found one close to my house, where I didn’t know the clerk and got a room by the night. The clerk, a young kid, looked at me with a big smile. He probably thought I was a whore, the little prick...I started at him with my hand out for the key. This day was almost too much for me, and it wasn’t over yet, I needed some sleep.

[.deceitful.]

Still
Later That Day --

Through the loud clamor of my thoughts and indecisiveness, I heard the rookie say something about a third body inside the house. No, shit I thought to myself. I could tell that from the pictures and the number of bloodstains.

Something was bothering me about this whole fucking thing.

A piece was missing, what was it? Oh yeah, I knew what was bothering me. After just a few months of living with a woman, I knew what it was. A female had lived in this house. Breathed in this house. Slept in this house. Ate in this house. Something was off about this house.

The pictures of casings showed several guns had been used. But one thing was obvious. One of the shell calibers didnt have a gun to match it. That meant there'd been another shooter. Fucking hell, this was getting complicated.

I didnt want to dig into this case. But something was pulling me, drawing me; I was a moth to the flame, circling a spark that could consume me and turn me to ashes. I stood, resigned to my fate.

"Did you hear something?"

"No...no sir."

I wasn't crazy. I knew I heard something. I looked around, checking the door and a couple of windows. Was I just fucking paranoid? That's what happens when you're always thinking somebody's out to get you -- and it's true. I dismissed the feeling. I was now wondering why the detective previously assigned to the case, had already signed it off. Why had he lied about the third body?

I shuffled through the pictures as we left the house, coming across those of the pool of blood that'd been found on the sidewalk outside. Curious, I walked over to eyeball the area. Immediately I noticed something. There hadnt been just one blood pool, there'd been several. I snooped around the outside of the house and found two things: old blood stains on an AC unit, and fresh footprints.

I knew I wasnt crazy.

I'd seen enough. We headed back to the city, and this time I was silent. The change of scenery did nothing for me, I knew the same filth that spread it's choking hold over the city's underbelly, also hovered under the suburb's quiet facade.

It was all the same to me; they were all the same to me. I made no distinctions.

[King]

I don't know how long I was out, but I know that I didn't care to.

I awoke in my bed, my wounds bandaged but still incredibly sore. Instinctively, I moved to get up only to feel two small, supple hands press against my naked chest and guide me back into the comfort of luxurious comforters and pillows. "Don't get up." Alex was forcing a smile, I could tell, but it did very little to hide her obvious concern. "Michael said you shouldn't get out of bed for a few days - you need to let your body recuperate."

"Michael was here?" I grunted.

"Yes, I called him when I came to pick you up." With a deep sigh, she urged a pill and cup of ice cold water to my chapped lips. I drank what I could, but my throat ached so it wasn't much. "He took the bullets out and stitched you up nice. Thankfully, nothing major was hit; he says you'll make a full recovery." Thank God. The last thing I needed was to be injured while they were hunting me.

I could feel that I was losing myself again - I needed to tell her about that woman before I did! "Alex, there was a girl. A woman left that apartment after the shootings; he missed one of them. F-find. . . out. . ."

"Understood." Calmly, she eased my sweaty brow back into the pillow and pulled the blankets to my neck. I closed my eyes, and that was the last time I ever saw her.

[Skylar]

Thursday 7:43pm

I awoke with a start, I always did these days, and after looking over the room and remembering where I was I plopped back again with a loud sigh. My tongue flicked over my parched lips and I eased off the bed to get a drink of water from the bathroom.

I took a long hard look at the woman in the mirror. I hardly recognized her. I didn’t consider myself unattractive, maybe a little thin, but the woman staring at me had disheveled hair, dark circles under her eyes, and had lost more weight then need be. I opened the medicine cabinet, that of course was empty, I just didn’t wanna see that chick anymore....

I went back into the crappy ass room and looked around. I was tired of living like this. I took a seat in a rather uncomfortable chair and pulled the cell from my pocket. I couldn’t help but wonder who all the numbers actually were.....if they would ever call me, hell...I wondered if they were still alive...

There was no reason to dwell on it, frankly because there was nothing I could do about it. I stashed my bags in a well hidden place, tossed a hoodie on, and headed out into the darkness. I considered taking a cab, but didn’t wanna chance knowing the cabby. Walking was the best option, I needed time to think about what I was doing.

The first thing on my mind was- Why would someone want John dead, let alone Brad, or Jake? I mean, our lives were normal, we were good people, right? John got up everyday and went to work at some big firm, I never really could remember the name. He was a day trader, and I never really understood all the details, but he hated talking work when he was at home, so I didn’t ever push the fact.

You know, looking back on it all and really thinking about it, I didn’t know jack shit about his job, just that he made great money, and I didn’t have to work. I lived like a princess, did what I wanted, when I wanted, and money was never an issue.

Am I that fucking blind? My hands met my face and ran down it. My first task was to find out what his job was, maybe this could answer something, if not everything. I was totally disgusted in the fact that I lead such a naive existence, every word that rolled off his velvet tongue was gold to me. I’m such a fool.....

Before I knew it I was staring up at my house, there were no lights on inside, which in my mind was a good sign. I decided to use the back door, and did so quickly. It made no noise as I opened it, everything in the house was perfect, John had it done that way for me. I stood there for a moment, looking over things a bit, nothing was really outta place, which shocked me some....wouldn’t the cops have tore this place up with three dead bodies in it?

Cops. Why would John tell me to run? For whatever reason these people were hunting him, it didn’t involve me. I didn’t do anything, didn’t know anything, and why wouldn’t I just tell them this, the cops that is. It was all so shady, was he telling me more then just the simple words he wrote? God, confusion is definitely an understatement. Because I was without a doubt, fucking clueless at this point.

I made my way through the kitchen and living room without passing a second glance to where I had found Brad and John. I needed to keep my head on my shoulders, keep myself aware at what I was doing, and listening to every noise the house made.

I went straight to Johns den and pulled the door open. I cringed slightly when it creaked, odd....it never creaked before. Closer examination showed damage to the door, like it was forced open or something, none the less I went inside.

It was tore all to hell, like something you saw in the movies. The desk was over turned, his filing cabinets emptied all over the floor. Someone was looking for something before I got here. I could only shake my head, I wanted to cry, but I wasn’t sure I had any tears left....

[.deceitful.]

8:00 PM
The Detective
Thursday Evening --

I sat there, slumped at my desk, a mug of stale murky coffee sitting in front of me, next to my feet. My shoes rested on the plethora of papers that sat in front me, along with the contents of the case file. I could feel the frown crinkling my forehead while my interlocked fingers tapped each other behind my head.

I was thoroughly confused now.

It seemed like the detective previously in charge of the case had shut it down before any real investigative work was done. And we're talking basic shit. Things that any experienced dick knew to start with. My interested was piqued now. I grabbed a pad and started writing. There were things I needed to know and if I didn't write them down, I just might lose 'em. Hell I preferred to be out in the streets anyway, not behind this damn desk.

I had the Rookie looking up some of everything for me when we got back. He seemed a little distracted and kept looking at me when he thought I couldn't see him...I knew why. I think he knew better than to ask me any questions though. So far I liked him a little though; he was efficient. I liked efficient.

I could smell the scent of something here. It smelled like mystery, and to me, it smelled like bullshit. Or was that my stale coffee?

The Rookie

You were staring at him although you probably thought he didn't know. You couldn't really help it though, it was him. From all that you know of the man, he was a legend in the force. Since the day he'd entered the academy, he'd stood head and shoulders above any other officer and just being in his presence made you feel...privileged.

Although you know he'd just randomly picked you, and only for a lackey, to you it was a great honor. You couldn't wait to tell your girlfriend when you got home tonight. That aside, you also hoped she'd made ziti. She could cook her ass off and you made sure she knew that you appreciate it.

You looked down, your thoughts all abuzz, wondering just what the man sitting across from you was thinking. In front of you were three phones, the computer, a printer and fax machine, and just as many papers as he had on his desk. You "hmmm'd" to yourself in concentration but in the back of your mind you wondered exactly what the detective needed with this information you'd been working on since getting back to the station from the crime scene.

It occurred to you that he was talking and, a bit ashamed that you were caught in your own thoughts, you cleared you throat, answering quickly. "Ah...yeah, I mean yes sir, right. Um...I ordered those blood tests on the samples, it may take a day or so but I said it was an emergency. And I know the lab tech, real pretty girl..." You trailed off, certain he didn't want to hear that, and continued.

The Detective

The Detective stared intently at the phone number the rookie had looked up for him. How convenient; whitepages online. All the Rookie had to do was look up the address of the house, and he had the number to the house's landline. It was listed under a female name.

It was only on a hunch the Detective had even thought about it, but the those fresh footprints outside the house demanded he pursue this angle. A single finger rhythmically tapped on the desk.

After a moment, his mind was made up. That same finger settled on the phone's keys, punching in the number. And lifting it to his ear, he could hear it ringing on the other end. After three weeks, the line still hadn't been disconnected yet. It was highly unlikely that somebody would actually answer since there was no one there...right?

Ring - Ring - Ring. Ring - Ring - Ring. Ring - Ring - Ring. The Detective frowned again, prepared to hang up after the next ring.

[Skylar]

8:07pm.
Dusky Residence
Thursday Evening.

Lost in my own personal woes, the first ring of the phone scared the shit outta me. I jumped, I gasped, I’m sure it all looked foolish. I dazed out for a moment, counting them. When I hit three I looked around in the mess for the phone. It was fairly easy to find since it lit up when it rang. I picked it up and held it in my hand....kinda funny it still had a charge for a cordless.

So many thing went through my mind as I stared down at it. John had caller ID in the house, but for some reason this number wasn’t showing up. That scared me. What if it was them, and they knew I was here and they were close? Should I even answer it?

This is my house, and I didn’t do anything wrong. Surely it wasn’t still an active crime scene, or would that even make a difference? I realized once more that I had been much too dependent on John. I suppose now I’ll be able to grow up.....not that I wanted to have to do so this way.

I thought about pushing the talk button, and then end super fast, but even that would let someone know that the house wasn’t empty. I almost asked myself why was I so afraid, but the truth of the matter was- that is simple to answer. People were killed in my house, my best friend is also dead, and for whatever reason, I seem to be caught in the middle of the bullshit, with no understanding as to why. Good enough for me...

I looked down at the phone as it kept ringing. Persistent mother fucker whoever it was. From that thought, for some reason, my mind went to the fact that when I had left my room, I hadn’t brought my gun with me. I was no sharp shooter. John and I would often go to the range and target shoot for fun. Just another little tid bit that is now sticking in my mind. I was however, a good shot.

Seven rings now, obviously the answering machine bit the dust in whatever happened in this room. I took a deep breath knowing in minutes I may very well regret what I was about to do. Honestly, I couldn’t take the ringing anymore, and my curiosity....well, my cat shoulda been dead a long fucking time ago.

“Hello?”

[.deceitful.]

"Hello?"

She answered.

She had a smooth voice but it seemed a bit off. It was like the sunshine atop the clouds hiding the storm below. I could discern a hint of sultry dripping from her words, honey from the comb. Was she a pretty girl? If voices were a hint of anything, I'd say yes.

"Hello."

I responded.

I waited for a moment, considering just what to say to her.

I really hadn't expected anyone to answer, and the fact that it was actually the owner of the house made this a touchy situation. According to reports, when the police got to the scene, there were only dead bodies. To me, that meant she ran. It was possible that she simply hadn't been there. Oh, that was definitely possible. But If I hadn't seen those footprints outside the house, I would've believed that.

She ran.

I couldn't help it, I had to ask.

"This is a detective working the homicides that took place in your home."

I paused. I wasn't necessarily giving her a moment to speak. No. It was just a moment to let the suspense build. Let her thoughts torture her. Let her wonder how I knew she was there and what I was calling for. In that moment, I rummaged around for my cigarettes, clenching one between my lips and lightning it with a flicker of flame. I inhaled. I exhaled.

And then I hit her with the hard one, the haymaker out of nowhere.

"...why did you run?"

I waited for her answer, but I was expecting her to hang up. Maybe i'd been too brusque, too rought, too aggressive. She would probably be spooked, and if she was like most people, she would leave me a tidbit, a kernel...something, she would leave me something to go on at the house.

I clenched the phone tight, listening for tell-tale nuances in her voice if she spoke. Glancing at the rookie, I pointed at the phone on his desk. He took the hint and picked it up. Smart kid.

[Skylar]

His voice was gruff, but not creepy. If it were them, it was someone different. I listened as he breathed on the other end of the line. I think I held my breath. Between momentary pauses he kept talking. I wasn’t sure if he was shocked I answered, or going for dramatics, either way I was confused.

"...why did you run?"

Was this guy serious? I almost laughed out loud at him. Why did I run? There were three dead bodies worth of reasons why I ran. Not to mention John and Jake both made it clear I shouldn’t stay around, and even without solid reasons, their word was good enough for me. After all, look where they ended up.

I wasn’t a stupid girl, though naive, obviously, I was learning quickly.....

“Did you seriously just ask me that?”

I paused for a moment, noticing my sassy-ness. For I all I knew if this was even in fact a cop, he could be as dirty as they come. IF it wasn’t a cop, they could be on there way here now, or even outside. I looked around nervously....

“What do you want from me?”

I was slightly demanding, trying to cover the straight paranoia, fear..whatever in my voice. Then it dawned on me, he didn’t even know who I was really. I could be a homeless chick, looking for a warm place to sleep for the night...I didn’t offer him any info on that matter either...