Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. Apologies for being late with this update, had a few things on my plate that took me away from writing. Also, apologies if this chapter seems incomplete or something, I rushed to get this chapter out (sounds like déjà vu). As usual, thanks heaps to Eloni. I don't think I can ever write anything without your help. XD I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.
…
"Please say you have something good for us, Clogs."
Urahara Kisuke paused to look up at the two detectives, brushing his bangs away from his eyes as he peered through the microscope. "I always have something good for you. And its all considerably cheap, too, I just—"
"About the case, idiot," Ichigo interrupted rudely.
"Quite the impatient one today, aren't we sunshine?"
Shinji shook his head ruefully, holding his hand up. "Seriously though, all our leads have turned out to be dead-ends. We're hoping you can give us something to work with."
Urahara let out a heavy sigh, "I've gone over every single shred of evidence that you've given me and haven't found a single thing. No hair fibre, no partial prints, nothing. This isn't your average killer, he's careful and methodical, not leaving anything behind."
Ichigo and Shinji cursed aloud. Things weren't getting any better, especially not with the profile that they were starting to build on the killer. "Anything else we should know?" Shinji asked.
Urahara shook his head bleakly. "I took the time to examine the body as well. The stab wounds covering her body didn't seem to have any precision or reason to it. The number of stabs would suggest that he was in quite a frenzy when he mutilated her body."
The two detectives thanked him before heading back to their desks, slumping into their chairs. "There's gotta be something that we're missing here." Shinji mumbled as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the picture of Jolene mags stuck on their work board, and the connections with the people that they had previously suspected to be involved with her murder.
Ichigo went back to his notes, reading over the statements they had gathered over the past few days. "From what Kisuke's told us, we seem to be dealing with an unsub who has a love for mutilation but has enough sense to clean up after himself so that he doesn't leave any evidence behind. Forensics wiped that whole place clean so it's unlikely that we missed something."
Shinji picked up a pen, turning it over and over in his fingers. "This doesn't look good, Ichigo. The frenzy would suggest a mounting desire for violence. We could have a potential serial killer on our hands."
"It keeps coming back to the why. Was Jolene a random victim, or did her killer know her?"
Shinji shook his head, staring hard at her photograph. "I'm hoping we find that out soon."
…
She was getting ready for bed.
Her husband had gotten caught with overtime once again, and rather than making the one hour drive from the inner city decided to stay at a hotel, much to her disappointment. But she was a good wife, and she hadn't complained or ranted at him, just said that she had understood and would see him tomorrow evening.
Now, lying all alone in their big bed, she started to wonder if maybe she should have voiced some of her concerns. The counselor that she had spoken to, a nice gentleman he was, had seemed to think she should. Sighing to herself, she pushed all those negative thoughts out of her mind and started to make a mental list of the groceries she needed to buy tomorrow, only to be disrupted by a scratching sound from a nearby window. She sat up slowly, her head cocked towards the sound as she tried to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from.
Suddenly, a large shadow loomed in her darkened doorway. "I bring you freedom, my dear."
She screamed.
...
Orihime shot up in bed, sweat pouring down her body.
She could feel her senses becoming dimmer as the vision assaulted her again, and she tried desperately to push back as she fumbled for the phone by her bed, her fingers shakily pressing Ichigo's number. The phone rang twice before his voice filled the line. "Kurosaki."
"I-Ichigo... something's happening..."
"Orihime? What's going on? Are you OK?"
"It's happening again..."
Ichigo sat up, his curiosity piqued. "What's happening?"
She was silent on the other end, confusing Ichigo all the more. He called her name once, when her strained voice rustled through the silence. "He's killing her."
He swore under his breath as he shot out of bed, picking up his jeans off the floor and hastily pulling them on. "Stay with me, I'll be at your place soon. Orihime, can you hear me?"
There was silence over the phone, and no matter how many times Ichigo called her name, she didn't answer. He grabbed his keys and his weapon, choosing to make do without a shirt as he quickly shoved his feet into his sneakers and jumped into his car. He headed towards Orihime's apartment, going as fast as he could while hoping not to get pulled over. He was tense as he drove, contact with Orihime somewhat diminished by the fact that she wasn't answering him, no matter how many times he called out to her, fear curling unpleasantly in his stomach.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but the stark fear that he'd heard in her voice gave him a bad gut feeling about it. He arrived at her apartment in record time, jumping out of his vehicle and headed cautiously up the stairs towards her door, looking for any signs of breaking and entering. There was no sign of forced entry, and neither were there any signs on the neighbouring doors. The apartment curtains were drawn, the place still and quiet, and Ichigo's gut tightened painfully.
Something was not right.
Moving quickly, he shoved his body against the door, desperation giving him the strength of ten men as he slammed against it a few more times, the door finally giving way under the relentless assault. Drawing his gun, he surveyed the darkened interior, his eyes trained for any movement in the dark. From the little he remembered of the layout to her apartment, there were only two other rooms to check.
His senses couldn't detect a second person in the apartment, though he was quick to scout out the spare rooms, not finding a single person in the place or any signs of someone for that matter. He turned on the lights as he went, coming across Orihime room last, her figure sitting in bed illuminated by the light in the small hallway. He called her name, switching the lights on in her room, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight of her, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.
She was pale; deathly so, and so still that he wasn't exactly sure that she was breathing. Quickly holstering his gun, he moved towards her still body, calling out her name, taking her hands into his. The chill in her fingers shocked him, and he held them between his hands, rubbing furiously, trying to get the blood to circulate. He looked at her face, noting the serene expression that covered it as she sat motionless for long minutes. He felt her pulse, noting how erratic it was, not to mention the fact that her body didn't seem to be getting any warmer.
He hesitated for a bare second before stripping his pants and getting under the covers with Orihime, shucking off her nightgown and throwing it to the floor before wrapping his arms around her, his hands rubbing up and down her back in the bid to share his body heat with her. He kept calling out to her, but she remained silent, staying that way for awhile longer before her body started to shudder and jerk, her breath coming out in heavy pants, distressed sobs building in her throat. Ichigo gathered her closer to him, speaking softly to her as he rocked her back and forth, telling her over and over again that it would be all right.
She clung to him then, harsh sobs tearing from her throat as he comforted her, and his eyes were stark as he listened to her despair. He could do nothing but hold her through the tears, wondering what kinda hell she was going through. She quieted after awhile, the fatigue that overcame her visible. She struggled to keep her eyes open, her fingers moving to clutch at him desperately.
"You have to find her, you have to find her."
He wrapped his hand around her fingers, his brow furrowed. "Find who? What are you talking about?"
Her lips parted as she tried several times to speak. "He killed again."
She lost consciousness.
