A/N:Hello my lovely readers! I just had this idea pop in my head and it was like...BAM! I have to write this. As I said in my summary this story is AU. I do warn you though there will be blood, sex, death and more. So if you can't handle it, don't read it. If you can then go right ahead. I hope you enjoy.:)
Rated M for:Sex, death,coarse language,blood
Disclaimer:I do not own Degrassi.
Lust From Murder
(ClaresPOV)
It was 3:00 in the morning and I was making my way through downtown Toronto. I turned down a dark alleyway, the sound of my clinking black heels being the only noise in the darkness. I soon came up to view of blue, red and white blinking lights and low murmurs of sirens up ahead. I made my way through the nosy civilians, towards the crime scene. The late March weather breezing towards my face and radiating off my grey wool coat. I ducked under the yellow tape and made my way towards the stiff. A tall man with brown medium hair wearing a pepper grey suit was holding a clip board. Probably examining the body. He turned around once he saw me and gave me a hard look.
"Detective Clare Edwards", he was clarifying. I nodded my head and went up to him. I pulled out my badge connected to the waist part of my belt. Standard procedure. He examined it carefully and nodded his head.
"FBI, K.C. Guthrie", he said holding out his hand. I shook it.
"Pleasure, Federal Guthrie, now what do we have ourselves here", I said looking towards the body. He looked back at his clipboard.
"Homicide, Victim: Mark Fitzgerald, 24,170 pounds, 5'9''. Last seen at the club, Harinades before being murdered." He read off his clipboard. I bent down and looked at the dead man laying before me. His brown eyes bare, with no light. A pool of blood was set underneath him, making the air smell crusty and metal like. His mouth was set ajar. His hands were brutally cut and scratched as if someone clawed at him repeatedly. I stood up and looked back at Guthrie.
"Any leads"? I asked with a sudden chill running up my spine. He handed me a folder tucked underneath his clipboard. I scanned the folder. Apparently the last two people Fitzgerald was seen with was 23-year-old Bianca Desousa and 24-year-old Owen Milligan.
"Milligan and Desousa were with Fitzgerald at Harinades, an eye witness saw them, who new all three of them", He answered briskly.
"Do you have the witness in custody"? I looked around to see if there was any weapon of some sort, related to the scene.
"No we don't, he would like to remain unidentified, and there is no weapon if you're looking for one", he said in a matter-of-factly tone. I turned my head towards him sharply.
"You let the witness go? He could help with the case", I narrowed my eyes, trying to hide the anger in my voice.
"We know where to contact him if we need him, he gave us his number", he took out a card with a number printed on it. I took it from him and pocketed it in my coat. I took one more look back at the body, seeing his bare, empty expression. His position and expression reminded me of a similar murder. My Dad's. I shook my head free before those thoughts before they travel in my head and stayed locked in like a vault.
"I'm going to go home, I'll get my partner to bring in Desousa and Milligan in for questioning tomorrow", I told him.
"Alright Detective", I faintly heard him say as I walked through the eerie quietness of the dark alleyway.
I woke up early that morning, to get to the department. I was going to find Mark Fitzgerald's murderer. For justice. And your own. The back of my mind whispered. I ignored it and hopped out of bed and went in the shower. After cleaning up and brushing my teeth, I searched through my closet, to find gray tailored pants, with a white tank and yellow button down blouse. After tucking in my shirt, I put my belt around and fixed my gun in the side of the belt, with my badge on the other side, facing the front. I lightly put on mascara and yellow eye shadow-matching the colour of my blouse. I brushed through my cinnamon curled hair. I slipped on and zipped my black leather heel boots. Putting on my gray wool coat. On my way towards the door, I grabbed my keys off the counter and my bag off the shelf, locking the door behind me when I closed it.
I entered the Toronto police department, the place busy with rookies swarming with paper work. The phones ringing off the hook, coffee brewing through the air. I went up to the front desk, waiting for Jenna Middleton-the paperwork and computer specialist-to finish her phone call. Once she hung up she smiled up at me, her bleach blonde hair and tanned skin screams; fake. But Jenna is one of the sweetest and most down-to-earth girls I've ever met and can type faster than a printer printing paper.
"Good morning Clare, how are you this morning"? she asked in a bright voice. I smiled faintly back.
"I'm good. Hey, has any papers come in for me", I asked looking around the stacks of files that surrounded her desk. She skimmed through some off them before shaking her head.
"No….nothing, but I'll let you know if you do. Do you want some coffee"? she asked. My insides turned warm and stirring for a cup of coffee.
"Yes, please. Black like always, and could you bring it to my office please"? I said while walking down the hall.
"Sure thing, Clare", she hollered after me.
I stopped down the hallway when I came in contact at a door with; Detective Clare Edwards written on it. I opened the door and placed my bag on my desk. I shrugged out of my grey wool coat and hung it on the hanger. I sat down, rubbing my hands together, trying to cause friction between them. There was a faint knock on my door.
"Come in Jenna", I said while taking the Mark Fitzgerald's file out of my bag. I heard the door open and close and saw Jenna come in with my favourite yellow mug filled to the top with black coffee. The steam rising in swirls. She put it on my desk.
"Anything else I can get you"? She asked eagerly. I sipped the coffee-shivering from the burning hot sensation- shaking my head.
"No thank you", I scanned through the file while hearing the door opening and closing again. Mark Fitzgerald was no saint. He got busted a couple of times in high school for violence, drug possession and alcohol. Before he was murdered he worked on a construction site downtown, building huge buildings for business corporations. I rolled my eyes. As if we need more of those. I heard a knock on the door a second time.
"Come in", I sipped my coffee, still looking over every detail of the folder when I heard a familiar clinking of heels echo through my office. I looked up to see my partner-and best friend-Alliah Bhandari closing the door to my office and sitting in one of my chairs opposite of my desk. Her black hair up in a pony tail, she smoothed our her black dressed pants and crossed her leg over the other. Only Alli can make stilettos work with dress pants.
"Hey, did you bring in the suspects", I asked closing Fitzgerald's file.
"I wouldn't call them suspects, more like…friends", she said in her high pitched voice. I arched my eyebrow.
"Have you talked to them yet"? She shook her head.
"Nope, but by the looks of it, they look really sad and scared", she said thoughtfully.
"Probably scared to get caught", I concluded.
"Well….I'm not sure, but Desousa's waiting for you in the interrogation room", she said standing up. I stood up as well and we exited my office and went down the hallway and turned left, towards the end of the hall was the interrogation room. Going inside the room, was Captain Savtaj Bhandari. With psychologist Connor Deslauriers.
"Good morning Captain, Deslauriers", I nodded towards them as I went beside them to look through the one way mirror, to see a distraught looking Bianca Desousa. Her dark curls were a mess and she was biting her fake press-on nails.
"She's ready for questioning", Captain said in a hard voice. I nodded and exited the little room, inside the interrogation room. Bianca looked up with me with fear in her eyes.
"I-I didn't d-do…..anything", she stuttered. I walked over to the desk and sat across from her. I tried to look as comfortable as possible.
"Listen, Bianca, it's okay you're not in trouble", I said in a soothing voice. She stopped biting her nail and looked down.
"You sure", she said in a quiet voice.
"Yes….now just tell me what happened with Mark last night"? I asked. She looked up at me with glassy eyes.
"Well, Owen, Fitz and I went to go have some drinks down at Harinades, at around 11:00". She paused. "Then Fitz said how he had to go, but he was really drunk".
"Go on", I encouraged.
"Then I saw Fitz being followed by someone", She started fidgeting with her hands.
"Do you know who"?
"Elijah Goldsworthy".
"So Mr. Milligan, do you know why you're here", I asked crossing my arms.
"You're trying to pin me for the murder of my best friend", he said in an arrogant tone. I shook my head.
"No, just tell me what happened"? I asked. He scratched the back of his head, his black hair sticking in different arrays.
"Well….me, Fitz and Bee went to get some drinks, done at Harinades and Fitz got so fucking wasted, but he left, mumbling on how he had to go", He looked as if he was trying to replay the memory in his mind.
"What time did you guys go"?
"Around 11:00, Fitz left around 12:00. Through the windows after Fitz left, I saw him being followed". He said as if that was completely normal.
"By any chance, do you know ho it was"? I asked urgently.
"What's his name…his name", he looked around trying to remember. He snapped his fingers. "Elijah Goldsworthy! That's it". He smiled.
A/N:yeah its a little different but bare with me it will get interesting. Let me know what you think? Continue?