A/N: I wanted to write a Cold Case story for a long time and now I have finally started it. I'm excited and hope that it will turn out the way I envisioned it.
Of course I do not own the concept of the Cold Case series nor any of its characters. I write this purely for recreational purposes. If you happen to come by this story and have an opinion of it or any other comments on it, please share :)
Philadelphia, November 8th, 1788
Susanna blushed as she closed the book. She could not believe the things it said. It was… scandalous! As for that, she couldn't believe Andrew owned such a thing. She knew she should not be in his room , no one but the maids were allowed in it, but she had always been curious for the endless shelves of books he had in here. Every night he brought one of these books down to the sitting room to read from, mostly theological or poetical works. But this! This was a novel! The same as the ones he always warned her against, saying it wasn't proper reading for a lady.
Just as she considered this the door opened and her brother was there. Susanna jumped up and tried to hide the book behind her back.
'What are you doing here sister? You know you are not supposed to come in my study.' His eyes flickered towards the shelves, probably checking if anything was displaced.
'I'm sorry Andrew, I was only looking for a book to read.'
Her brother frowned at her, 'You have your own books, do you not?'
'Of course I do, I was just looking for something else for a change.' She edged past him, still keeping the novel hidden, 'But you have nothing interesting in here at all, only those dull theoretical writings and the like.'
He narrowed his eyes as she backed out of the room but then turned away, 'Do not come into my room again sister, I would hate for you to make a mess of things here.'
Susanna heaved a sigh of relief as he slammed the door behind her, then she darted away, the book tightly clutched to her chest. She nearly bumped into one of the maids, who just came out of her room with her arms full of bed linens.
'Watch where you walk,' she snapped at the girl. 'And leave me alone for the rest of the night, I wish not to be disturbed.'
...
The next morning
Mary was muttering angrily as she carried the tray up the stairs to the mistress' room. It was not the first time the young lady refused to appear at the breakfast table. And in these cases her brother always ordered them to bring the food up to her room instead. He should not pamper the girl so, she was insufferable enough as it was.
The blond haired maid put the tray down on one of the small tables in the hall and knocked on the door. 'Excuse me miss I brought you your breakfast.'
There was no reply, the girl was probably still fast asleep. Mary knocked again, louder this time. When there was still no reply she cracked open the door and peered in. A cold gust of wind met her as she stepped in. The window opposite of the bed was wide open. But that was not what attracted Mary's attention. The young lady was lying on the bed still fully dressed, it was apparent she had not slept in her bed that night. Her eyes were staring wide open to the ceiling, unseeing. Dried blood covered her throat, chest and even her face.
The maid dropped the tray and screamed.
...
...
...
Philadelphia, present day
Detective Lilly Rush choked on her coffee as she walked into the office. A huge pile of paper was sitting on her desk. She was sure she had cleared all of the paperwork from the last case when she left office the night before.
Her boss, John Stillman, approached her as she sat down still staring at the stack of papers. 'I'm sorry Lil, they are making us go through some behind paperwork of the department. Apparently it is a mess at administration and that is not helping to solve cases.'
'Don't they have other people to do that?' she asked incredulously, 'We are homicide detectives.'
Stillman shrugged, 'Budget cuts over there too. But solving murders still goes first of course, just have a look at those papers whenever you have a bit of spare time, that should satisfy the big boss.'
Lilly sighed, 'I guess that would be now. I just closed a case last night. What am I supposed to do with them?'
John Stillman bent over her desk to the stack of papers and picked one up. 'Well, first you sort them according to the code in this corner.' He pointed. 'Then you type them in into the computer. We have a special program for it, it's called…'
'Excuse me is any of you a homicide detective?'
Lilly jumped up eagerly to face the speaker and saw that it was an old man with white hair, wearing an old-fashioned pair of brown rimmed glasses. He looked kind of professor-like, with squinting eyes and a friendly smile.
'Yes, I am detective Lilly Rush,' she said as she stepped forward with an extended hand.
He grabbed it and shook it heartily. 'I have some information concerning a murder. It happened in 1788.'
Lilly dropped the hand.