Chloe's PoV
Her phone rang for the fourth time that hour as Aubrey drove towards the scene of the crime, it's obnoxious tone startling the silence of the car and trembling in her uniform's pocket. Aubrey failed to take her eyes of the road, following police procedure habitually and not even glancing at Chloe, who carefully un-pocketed her phone and hesitantly rejected it. If she didn't look at the caller ID she could still pretend it was by accident, right?
"Who's Chicago?" Beca questioned from the back of the old vehicle. How did she even see the name from back there?
"No-one." Chloe did not want to talk about this now.
"It's rude to ignore people. Especially four times in a row, a technique that you will find is possibly the worst method of getting someone to leave you alone." She sounded contemplative, boredly considering the other options that she had most likely practised frequently over the course of years.
"And what would you suggest?"
The criminal paused, seeming to methodically consider her answer, before replying, "If it's an ex, use a knife, if it's a stepfather use a gun, and if it's a friend then hook up with their ex." She sat back, proud of herself.
Aubrey, however, snorted and said, "He deserves worse than all of those combined."
"Am I allowed to kill him then?"
Chloe would laugh, but after seeing the serious expression on the woman's face and dangerous cloud to her dark eyes, she frowned. "I really hope your joking. And no. No killing people."
She pretended not to notice the dissapointment on Beca's face and tried to ignore the pain she felt when Beca asked her next question.
"What did this Chicago do?"
Aubrey silently drove.
Chloe silently looked out of the window.
Beca just sighed. "Chicago Walp right?"
Chloe's eyes immediately shot to the rear-mirror, "How did you know?" Her voice sounded sharper than she had wanted it to. Strange.
"I know everyone. Well, all of their secrets, at least. Ol' Chicag' used to be at the end of a minor drug dealing chain that one of my guys set up a few years ago. Only ever sold shit weed and basic stuff to college kids, but it's still good to have dirt on him." She paused. "And the secret girlfriend who happened to be a cop was this dirt."
Aubrey's eyes still hadn't left the road, but they had widened to almost twice the size they were normally.
Chloe just gaped, stupified.
"So, tell me, how many times did he hit you before you decided to end it."
Chloe recovered her dropped jaw and frantically shook her head whilst saying, "It wasn't like that, he just... had too much to drink sometimes. And how did you know that?! You can't have just read it somewhere, so tell me!"
Beca shrugged, something far more morbid than death gracing her eyes. "After enough experience, you learn how to recognise the ones that enjoy spreading the blood of those they claim to love across the floor from the few that would rather pour out their own instead. It was easy to work out which side of the spectrum he stood on."
Aubrey finally looked away from the road for a split second to stare at Beca before moving her eyes back in front of her, asking hesitantly, "an ex?"
Beca's jaw had set, and even in the small, cracked mirror the tension that danced down her neck and harsh facial features was visible. "Step-father."
Conversation over then. The rest of the forty minute drive passed in silence, interrupted only by occassional updates passing through the radios secured to their waists.
When they found the police-taped off area, they parked on the corner and ducked beneath the tape, nodding briefly at the other officers who had clearly beaten them to it. Stacie stood by the body, wearing her usual forensic suit and sanitary gloves, analysing the corpse from around a meter away. Aubrey and Chloe walked over to her, and she turned away from the figure to talk to them.
"Stab wound that just missed the heart and a large bump on the head, so he was probably concussed or not fully conscious when he died. It'll take a few days for the prints to come back and - Hey!" She twisted away from them to yell at Beca.
Beca, who currently had her hand stuffed inside of his chest, blood welling out in bubbles as she sunk the entirety of her wrist and fingers inside of the open wound, not even flinching as dark gore splashed onto her clothes and face.
Um... what the fuck?
She proceeded to offer Stacie nothing more than a dismissive grunt, entirely focused on whatever the hell she was doing with her hand shoved inside the dead man's chest. Gross. And weird.
"What the hell are you doing?! Stop that!"
Beca did so, pulling out her blood-stained hand and carefully picking through the fluids with her other hand, clearly looknig for something. She spent a few more seconds like this, blatantly ignoring Stacie, until she seemed to find whatever she was looking for.
She withdrew her hand, studying it with a triumphant grin on her face as she promptly stood and strode towards the trio of detectives awaiting her discovery. She held her hand out infront of her - still trembling, as always - , showing her the thick coating of red blood to the group, and they each looked at her in confusion.
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "There are specks of rust on the inside of the wound and the edges of the injury were slightly jagged." She motioned to small specks of flakey orange metal mixed in with the blood on her palm. "He was stabbed with an old, poorly kept blade - likely his own - that consisted of a wide diameter but short length when compared to more favourable combat knives. He was obviously inexperienced with conditioning and sharpening the weapon, however consitently carried it with him, since his belt was too loose to normally be empty and slightly worn down on the left side. He was expecting a fight, as we can tell from the position he landed in, but not for his own weapon to be used against him, since little blood is smeared on his own hands and he clearly never even thought to stop the bleeding." She frowned dissaprovingly, casting a pitying look at the body. "Who ever stabbed him was inexperienced too, though, as the blade missed the heart and they relied on him bleeding out instead of just slitting his throat. I'd say he lasted no more than five minutes and died in unimaginable pain, where he was too weak to even scream." She shook her head, "stupid fucker."
Chloe, Aubrey and Stacie all stared at her, wide eyed. She looked at them thoughtfully, obviously considering something, and opened her mouth to speak when a generic ringing abruptly sung from the body.
A phone. The dead man's phone. In the front pocket of his cheap bomber jacket.
Stacie instantly turned towards the corpse with Aubrey, while Chloe practically sprung towards the dead man.
Beca beat her to it, and as she took in the caller ID, her face visibly dropped.
"What?" Chloe asked bluntly.
"I know this guy." Beca said, not looking up from the cracked screen. She stayed frozen for a moment, before jerkishly bringing the phone to her ear, clearly conflicted.
Beca spoke, the gaps inbetween her speech filled in by an unidentifyable voice on the other end, the qaulity too poor for Chloe to hear what he said exactly. "Hey Jesse... your guy's dead... no, a few hours ago... no Jesse, of course i didn't do it... seriously? You just said that? Trust me, this was an amatuer, I'd at least hit the heart, y'know?... yeah, you're gonna have to hide out somewhere for a while dude... no, the supplies are all out in the warehouse, and the flat's too close... no." Her face hardened now, her conversation with this mystery man - who knows how Beca knew him - clearly taking a darker turn.
The reciever seemed to get the message, as he continued to speak for a while, until Beca said, "You could come to the station... no, I can deal with that easily... trust me, he won't kill you in a cop's lair, he's nowhere near that good... just roll with it man... okay, meet by the bridge, yeah? And don't get caught." She paused, probably about to lower the phone, but then she suddenly asked, "How much do you owe... Holy fucking shit, seriously?! No way did you spend all that on a couple knives... I'm not stupid Jesse, tell me."
The man on the phone took a long time to answer, and the criminals face went from concerned to... furious? No... more like... betrayed? Yeah, she looked betrayed.
And her next words only confirmed it. "Fuck you, you peice of shit." But that wasn't all.
"I'm going to find you, and pay of your debt, and bribe the cops into letting you go, and I'm going to pay of your sisters medical bills and get someone to look after your dog, and I'm gonna spend thousands of dollars on you and then i'm going to beat you until you can't walk for weeks and break both of your arms and make you deaf in one ear, and then I'm going to go on with my fucking day and pretend you didn't spend over twenty fucking grand on getting stoned with the same asshole who I've sworn to kill one day. And you're going to let me, because if I don't then you'll be dead within the next few days, got it? Good." She started of speaking in a quiet tone, but by the end of her monologue she was a few soundwaves from shouting. She hung up.
Holy burning Hell.
Everyone just stood in the alleyway, eyeing the woman who had gone from civilised and intellectual to murderous and cruel and... terrifying in a span of a minute, and who now just shrugged her jacket back in place and dropped the phone onto the slightly wet pavement without missing a beat, her enraged face clicking into a blank mask of boredom the second the phone hit the ground.
Yeah, Chloe could totally understand why she was labelled crazy by both the police and the overpopulated criminals of Barden County now. Aubrey and Stacie exchanged looks with her, shock expressed on both their faces. Silence reigned.
Beca spoke finally, "There's a bridge by the canal, we're going to meet a guy there and bring him into the station. He was working with this idiot," she gestured to the body, "and will be the next victim if we don't get him some protection. In return he'll offer us information and i'll take care of his debt. He's a colleague of mine; you can trust him."
And then she walked back to the cop car, climbed in the back and was obscured by the tinted windows. No-one moved for a minute, either too scared or confused to comment. Except for Stacie, that is. And she summed up everyone's thought proccess pretty smoothly.
"Well shit."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The car ride back was tense, following Beca's directions without question. The criminal in question was sitting in the back, handcuffs somehow discarded on the car floor and a scary glint to her eyes. Chloe's phone had stopped ringing by now.
Finally Aubrey pulled the vehicle to a stop, braking harshly, and said, "Should we all go, or just you?"
"I'll deal with him. He can't run from me and he knows it, despite being the moron he is."
Beca then smoothly walked out of the car, dragging the unlocked handcuffs with her in one hand, and made her way over to a shadowed alcove by the side of the unimpressive bridge. A hooded figure emerged from the darkness to greet her.
He, seemingly without question, just offered his hands out, which Beca cuffed with ease - despite her lock picking them earlier - and walked him to the car. She opened the rear-side door and shoved him in a little too roughly, before moving around to her own side. Chloe mimicked Aubrey in examining his face in the rear-view mirror when Beca yanked his hood down as an afterthought.
Light brown hair - no where near as dark as Beca's - and soft chocolate eyes pulled into an innocent, slightly scared expression, and a dark grey shirt could be seen poking up from the top of his hoodie. His fingers fidgeted consistently in the steely embrace of his handcuffs, and the second Beca sat down along from him he directed all attention to her still figure - unmoving if not for the trembling fingers resting on her lap. He kept opening and closing his mouth at her, as if he wanted to say something, but Beca never once looked from the black tinted windows, and so the rest of the journey was spent in slightly awkward silence.
Aubrey drove.
Beca glared at nothing.
The newcomer stared wistfully at the angry brunette.
Chicago didn't call again that day, probably already too caught up in another girl to dial his ex's number.
Chloe just made sure the two criminals in the back of her best-friend's car didn't kill each other.