Lt. Abigail Mills wanted to clutch her head and growl with frustration. What she did do was bite her pencil and look at her report file. If she was wasn't careful it would join it's predecessor in the bin because Headless Horsemen belong in fairy tales, not murder case files. Despite the fact that she saw one at the murder scene of her partner, chief, and father figure - the late Sheriff, August Corbin. With a weapon, axe, that matched the MO - blade hot enough to cauterise - but despite all that, she wasn't crazy enough to write down because it was completely stupid and impossible to believe. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn't but Abigail Mills definitely wasn't crazy - honest. Maybe.
That wasn't the only thing on her mind. The murder was two days ago and the had been promised the help of an investigator all the way from NYPD. That brought about two problems, both of which were major annoyances. First off, the guy was late, which did not give a good first impression. Secondly, how he fit in her team. Being a black woman on the force, well she got sideways looks sometimes and she already had one arrogant ass to deal with. Luke Morales was nice and all, but he had a pretty sized ego, one of the reasons they no longer dated.
Abbie sighed. She would be best walking away from the case and coming back to the murder file tomorrow. It was well known that Sheriff Corbin had been a father figure of sorts to her and she had all likelihood of getting way too deep into this one. She walked into the new sheriff's - Captain Irving's - office and was about to ask for eave to clear her head when in burst the most ungainly and thrown together man she'd ever seen in her life.
"Terribly sorry, do excuse my lateness, there was business that needed to be settled before I could assist in your case. Where are my manners my name is - eh, hmm - Nathaniel Fornway." Abbie and Irving just stared at the strange man dubiously. He had shoulder length, apparently untameable, brown, curly hair. Everything about about him was long, for God's sake, his legs alone nearly reached three feet. He looked like a tree with branches making the arms and legs. And his clothes - sheesh. He wore a baggy polo-neck sweater, loosely fitted leggings and boots. Not to mention, was that seriously a trench coat? He took their silence for what it was. "I have identification and a recommendation if necessary."
The man slid a driver's licence and a letter across the Captain's desk. The Captain looked at the licence and confirmed it was genuine before opening the letter and reading it. He took his time handing it to Abbie, with a suspiciously blank face. She was not prepared for what she read.
'I know he looks and acts strange but I've been told by a an expert what he does is genuine science, and he gets the results I think you're gonna need. Forgive him for knowing more than he should. An eidetic memory and watchful eyes can be annoying as well as helpful but it's just what he does. Signed, Michael Owens.'
Thankfully, knowing how to keep her cool was something Abbie made use of in her one of work.