The Most Alive
"Jesus - sodding - Christ, it smells like a tarts parlour in here!" DCI Hunt marched into the room wrinkling his nose and announcing his displeasure at the scent which was invading his nostrils.
"Fake perfume knock offs, sir. Just cataloguing the evidence," volunteered Shaz, who was smiling slightly.
"That's all very well and good but do you have to play with it, surely it's not necessary to catalogue the stench?" Hunt snapped and waved his news paper in front of his face.
"It stinks so much 'cos Butterfingers 'ere dropped a box of the stuff, Sir," DS Carling said thumbing over his shoulder, roughly in the direction of DC Skelton, who looked slightly apologetic.
"Well for the love of God, someone open the windows, it feels like me nose holes are being buggered by Give-an-shee."
"Givenchy, it's pronounced Givenchy," Drake added as she entered the room with a handful of files. Clad as usual in her leather jacket and obscenely tight jeans.
"Well, trust a silver spoon sucker like you to know that," added Hunt.
"Its basic French, its not hard," she smiled and added, "even for you."
"Well, I don't given-a-shit," Hunt turned half-sneering, walked into his office and promptly sat behind his desk with that morning's paper and a bacon sandwich.
Drake shrugged, put her leather jacket on her chair and manoeuvred to sit behind her desk. The perfume really did reek and Drake saw that Shaz had already started to open some windows. As Alex scanned the room she saw Carling leaning back on his chair, feet on his desk, and Chris watching Shaz move across the room.
"Is there anything new, apart from the faux perfume?" Alex directed the question to Chris, who dragged his eyes off Shaz and looked at Drake.
"No, nothing, and we've pretty much finished this lot. Just got to take it down to the evidence room," Chris said with a quick glance at the boxes of perfume.
"Well, I'd get them out of here sharpish, if I were you." Her eyes flicked towards the DCI's office giving Chris a hint.
"Will do. Sha…er, WPC Granger, give us a hand would you?" Chris asked.
"Sure, DC Skelton," Granger said with a smirk and a hint of something baser in her eyes. They picked up the boxes that Chris could have surely taken alone, and left. Drake knew they'd be a least fifteen minutes to do a five minute job and while they had nothing on it didn't matter how long they were.
"BREW!" Shouted Hunt from his office, behind the paper which was protecting him from the sight from the rest of the office.
Carling looked at Drake expectantly, as if he thought she was going to get up and make the tea herself. Drake smirked and tapped the 'DI' part of the 'DI Alex Drake' name plaque on her desk. When Ray looked aghast, Alex moved her mug to the front of her desk.
"Two sugars please, Detective Sergeant," Drake said deliberately loud and failed to keep the smirk off her face. Keeping her head down she heard the scraping of the chair across the room, and then the removal of the mug from her desk with a resentful snatch. Five minutes later the cup returned with a thump and a slosh. "Thank you."
Alex sipped the milky tea and thumbed through some current cases. Distantly she heard a phone ring, but her mind was drifting and she was thinking of Molly. Alex felt immediately guilty for smiling, always the pang when she thought of Molly. Nothing was more important to her than getting home, nothing. And yet she made the best of things like she knew she was supposed to. There was a thud somewhere "Drake!" Hunt was at her desk looking down at her impatiently.
"Yes?" She said, shaking herself mentally out of her reverie.
"Now I have your esteemed attention, move that cushion you call an arse and let's go," Hunt leaned over the desk as he shouted at her.
"Where are we going?" Alex saw Hunt roll his eyes at her question and she added, "My cushion of an arse would like to know."
"Had a report of a disturbance in the posh end of town, familiar territory for you, Bolly," Hunt rapped the desk twice, "Chop chop, we haven't got all day."
The Audi screamed through the street unnecessarily, Alex thought Gene seemed to revel and enjoy in burning rubber, and if he terrified a pedestrian on the way, all the better. Alex clung to the door and hoped they got there in one piece.
"Is driving like we are being attacked absolutely bloody necessary?" Alex snapped after bodily melding with the window for the third time.
Hunt's eyes glittered with the excitement of driving his car, "If you have to ask, Bolly, then I wouldn't expect a posh tart like yourself to understand. "
Hunt veered around a reversing car and did a handbrake turn at the next right. A child ran out into the road ahead and Hunt slammed on the breaks hard. Alex slid forward on her seat and braced herself on the dashboard.
"For God's sake, Gene!!" Drake yelled as the child stood staring for a moment unharmed and then stuck his middle finger up nastily before scampering away.
"Cheeky little shite! I should have hit the accelerator," Hunt half shouted out of the window at the small retreating figure. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and put his foot down once more, the close call did not seem to rattle him and he carried on driving just as he had before. Gene heard Drake tut loudly and took a glance at her. "It's only when you are closest to death, Bolly, that you feel the most alive."
Drake looked at him open mouthed trying to comprehend the all the ramifications of what Hunt had said.
"Cat got your tongue?" Hunt had stolen another quick glance at Drake and seen her gob smacked look.
Recovering Drake said, "That's your excuse for driving like a maniac, is it? That's just the sort of pseudo-profound bullshit I'd expect from a subconscious construct such as you." She heard mild exclamations of surprise from Ray and Chris in the back of the car. She thought she heard Ray say something about hormones and she turned sharply to look in their direction, both immediately looked out of the window, not meeting her glance.
The Quattro squealed round the last corner and sharply broke to a bone crunching stop. Alex gave Hunt a filthy look as she got out of the car but the look on his face quickly forced her to turn and look at the scene in front on them.
A young PC by the name of Goddard was leaning over the next door's fence, puking. Alex felt the cold pit of fear in her stomach turn over and take a trip up her spine. She shuddered and looked to Gene, who face had become set in that grim way of his, like stone, nothing let in and nothing let out, a brave face. "Great, this is going to be just peachy," Hunt growled.
Hunt walked up to PC Goddard and waited for him to finish retching. "You'll be alright lad," Hunt said giving him a couple of well placed manly pats to his back. The PC turned to face Hunt, he looked humiliated and scared but in front of the Guv he seemed to gather strength.
"Sir," Goddard said weakly and seemed hear the weakness and repeated himself a little stronger, "Sir."
"What am I going to find PC Goddard?" Hunts tone was firm and the use of Goddard's title seems to remind the young PC he had a job to do.
"I got a call, Sir, to attend this address, a domestic – somebody phoned in and reported that they heard shouting and screaming. When I got here the door was open and I knocked and got no answer, so I went in, Sir, I went in… and…" Goddard's voice broke and Hunt placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Steady lad."
"There's blood everywhere, I've never seen so much," Goddard fought with what he was seeing in his minds eye, to what they were yet to find.
Hunt seemed to think this was enough and gave one more pat before saying, "Go get a cuppa."
Hunt turned and started to walk to the front door of the house, not turning to look at her, he said, "Drake, stay here."
"Bollocks will I stay here," Alex shouted back, and whether Hunt heard her or never really expected her to stay wasn't clear, as he carried on towards the house.
As Hunt walked through the front door of the house the first thing he noticed was the metallic smell, and for the second time that day he felt like his nose was being rogered. The back of his hand automatically went to his nose as if to somehow ward the offending smell off. He walked through into the kitchen and stopped. There really was blood everywhere.
They walked through in silence and met back at the foot of the stairs.
"There aren't any bodies," Chris wondered aloud what they all had been thinking.
Drake put a foot on the stairs and felt a hand press down on her arm, she looked up into Hunt's grim set face, and she knew what he was going to say.
"I'm going up there alone, Drake, and this time you will wait here," his voice gave an order and as Ray and Chris shifted to follow Hunt he looked at them and said, "You two stay here as well."
"Guv!" Carling started to object.
"Stay here." Firm, hard cold words, Ray didn't dare say anything else.
Hunt climbed the stairs careful not to touch the banister, and with each step his legs felt heavier, the dread weighing down on him like lead. On the landing he paused, he saw blood trailing along and he followed where it led.
A bedroom, double bed, one person in it, the other on the floor beside it. The sheets were saturated and the red of the blood was stark against the white cotton. He went to check for a pulse but withdrew his hand, pointless.
The bathroom was surprisingly clear of blood, so he moved on to the room he had left till last. Teddy bear motif on the door was smiling, welcoming him in. His gut churned, cold fear swam in his chest, and he pushed the door open. Two small beds, one red, one untouched. He walked around the red one and a small body came into view. The bile rose in his throat. He looked around the next bed, nothing.
Two beds, only one kid - where's the other kid? He looked under the beds, nothing. He went to the wall robe and opened it, almost expecting a body to be there, but again there was nothing. Frowning Hunt started looking in the other rooms upstairs. He walked down the stairs and saw Drake looking at some of the photos on the walls.
"How many kids?" Hunt snapped.
"What?" Drake responded, concentration broke.
"How many kids were there here in this house?" Hunt retorted impatiently.
"Two, I think, judging from the photos, a boy and a girl, the girls the older one."
"The parents and the boy are upstairs, dead." Hunt stated the fact and didn't meet any ones eyes; he instead started to open cupboards, searching. "The girl is missing."
After two hours of searching and no luck finding the girl, especially now forensics and others had arrived, too many people buzzing around the honey pot.
Drake and Hunt stood in the back garden of the house. Hunt lit a cigarette and dragged on it deeply. Drake knew he wanted a glass in his other hand, and right on cue he pulled a hip flask from out of his pocket and swigged on it heavily. Right now, Alex could not blame him. He proffered the flask in her direction and she shook her head. He waggled it again, seeming not to have accepted her rejection of his scotch. Their eyes met over the flask and she understood, took the flask and swigged; a communion for the dead. She handed it back.
Hunt glanced around at the garden and then started, his eyes rested upon a patch of blood on the grass. He moved quickly to it and saw another and another. Pocketing the flask, Hunt moved and followed the trail to a bush at the end of the garden.
The bush moved.
"Shit!"
"Gene, what is it?" Drake had only just noticed he'd moved. "Gene? Guv?"
A small set of blue eyes stared out of the green, and into Hunts. He felt her absolute terror. "Hello…" He leaned forward and the girl shuffled back. "I'm not going to hurt you, I am a policeman."
"That's what he said," Hunt heard her whisper and he went cold.
"I am real one, look…" he took out his warrant card and badge, he rested on a branch and moved back so the girl could take it and look. Hunt heard Drake moving up behind him, she'd be better suited to handling this. The bush rustled and the girl took the card. He saw the hand was heavily stained with blood.
"Is it safe?"
"Yes, darling, it's safe," Drake added from beside Hunt.
The girl crawled out; she was in a blood-soaked nightie, cold and shivering. She hugged Hunt and he looked surprised but put his arms round her and picked her up.
Back at the station, the mood was sombre and grim, no-one voice what they all were thinking; why? It was a senseless crime, no apparent motive as yet and the lack of anything that could point them in the right direction was almost frightening.
Drake looked up from the files she had been reading. The DCI's door was shut and the blinds closed, no one dared disturb him. He had been in a foul mood since finding that girl, but more worryingly he had been very quiet. Alex stood; she needed a break from looking through the photos of the crime scene. She walked over and knocked on the door to the sanctuary.
"What!"
Drake opened the door slowly and a veil of smoke flooded out. It was worse on the inside, and for a brief moment Alex worried for her lungs. She shut the door behind her.
"Gene?"
"Present. What do you have for me?" His speech was the slightest bit slurred, not much, but Drake could hear it.
"There are no leads yet. No-one saw anyone entering or leaving the house. They were well liked in the community, no hint of any potential enemies."
"So we could be looking at some psychotic wanker just deciding that today's the day he's going to butcher a family." Hunt swirled the golden liquid in his glass and then downed it.
"The girl is the only lead we have to catch the bastard that did this."
"Right then, we go to the hospital."
"We can't, Gene, they have sedated her, we'll have to wait till the morning."
Hunt stood and picked up his coat.
"Where are you going?" Drake asked bemused at the abrupt ending to the conversation.
"I am going to get fucking pissed."