Thursday

Autopsies sucked. It wasn't that there was a lot of blood, handling of dead people's organs, or that most coroners were psychotic lunatics who cut up dead people for a living. It was, Brenda decided, that she was in the middle of nowhere forced to sit on a bench and wait outside the local doctor's basement-slash-morgue. She couldn't go out into the field- because the field was a bloody forest, and what did she know about a forest? Nothing, that's what- and she couldn't talk to Mewtwo, because he was out in the field because he did know about the goddamn forest.

She was bored, there was nothing for her to do until Mewtwo, Sheriff Roberts, and the Sheriff's underlings returned. Or until the coroner came out, then she could talk to him.

She checked her watch again. Five minutes had passed.

"I should have brought something to read," she muttered. Which led, of course, to five minutes of contemplation on books. Sort of. More of a contemplation on how Brenda hadn't read anything other then reports and case files in… far too long.

Did she even own any books?

"Ah, detective Johnson?"

Brenda jumped slightly, and looked up. It was the coroner. "Ah, yes?" What was his name again?

The man was gray at the temples, and had a receding hairline. He had a paunch, his arms were flabby, and his eyes, behind the half-moon glasses, were a watery gray. He'd introduced himself as the town doctor and occasional coroner, but Brenda couldn't for the life of her remember his name.

"I've completed my study." The coroner smiled, a tiny little sad expression, just as unmemorable as the rest of him. "Would you like to step into my office?"

"Sure." Brenda shoved her hands in her pockets, and followed the coroner down the hall. Once she was seated in the visitor's chair, she leaned forward and frowned.

"So. What can you tell me?"

The coroner adjusted his glasses. "I can tell you that the man was average in size. The bruising suggests he used his thumbs to compress her windpipe."

Brenda nodded, and leaned back. "Strangulation's a face-to-face killing. He must have got off on it, as well as the rape."

"I won't pretend to know anything about a killer's psychology, detective." He sighed, and looked down at his desk. "It's enough to make me consider retiring."

"Oh?" Brenda tapped one finger against her bad knee. "Did you manage to get a semen sample?"

"Yes."

"Then send it to the lab in Viridian, please." She chewed her lip. She was forgetting something- oh, right. Small town, this guy was one of two doctors and an intern. "Did you know the victim?"

"No, detective. It would be easier for you if I did, wouldn't it. However…" The man sighed, and spread his hands. "We have a tourist industry in the fall. People come from miles to see our trees. The season is just beginning to pick up."

"So, she was a tourist. Great." Brenda rubbed one hand over her face. "Did you do the fingerprints?"

"Yes, but- I hope you can run them. I've never actually had many reasons to use the machine."

Brenda made a quick decision. "I'll take them to the Sheriff's office, there'll probably be a machine there I can use." And she'd be there when the field crew got back. "Thanks for your help, doctor."

"Happy to help, detective. Ah… a moment, I'll have her fingerprints for you."

Brenda nodded, and settled back in her chair to wait. She'd have to check up on Alison, make sure she hadn't decided to wear her natural hair color or visit a forest or whatever.

Thursday

The machines in the Sheriff's office worked ten times better then the shit Brenda was normally forced to work with. She only had to smack the computer once.

Because the computers and scanners were superior, Brenda had a name and next of kin for the victim. Marie Allemon, and her next of kin were her parents, Joel and Christine Allemon, from Goldenrod, Johto. She was going to have to call them, she was going to have to tell them their daughter was dead.

She was going to destroy their world.

Putting it off was only going to twist her stomach into even more knots. It already felt like someone had taken her internal organs and squeezed.

There was a phone number for the next of kin- home, business, and two cell phones. Brenda chose home, and hoped it was the right choice. The phone only rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Allemon residence, this is Christine speaking. How can I help you?"

Christ, Brenda thought. People actually answered the phone like that? "Mrs. Allemon? Is your husband home?"

"Oh, you need to speak to Joel? Just give me a second, he's in the basement."

Brenda opened her mouth to respond, only to roll her eyes. The clunk of phone hitting solid surface was the only clue she needed. There would be no one to talk to, not until someone picked up the phone again.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Allemon? I actually need to speak to you and your wife." Better to tell both of them at once. That way, neither would have to tell the other.

"Let me just set the phone to speaker, then. There we are. Who are you?"

They only just got around to asking that? "My name is Detective Johnson. I'm calling from Snowhill, Kanto. It's about your daughter." Quick and fast, that was the only way to do this. "I'm sorry, but your daughter is dead."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, Mr. Allemon spoke up. "You're lying. This- this is a sick joke. Be sure we're calling the real cops, you-"

"Mr. Allemon, I am not joking. I'm sorry. But your daughter, Marie, is dead. She's been identified through fingerprints. You have my word that I will bring your killer to justice."

There was more silence. Brenda closed her eyes. If she listened closely, she could hear Mrs. Allemon start to sob.

"When can we claim the body?" Mr. Allemon. He sounded like the earth had been torn from beneath his feet.

"Not yet, I'm sorry. Until the case is closed… I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have to ask, but did your daughter have any enemies?"

"No. No. I- we have to go now. Goodbye detective."

"Goodbye."

Brenda hung up the phone, and hunched over until her head was resting on the desk.

Friday

"-Alright, Roberts. I'll let you know as soon as the lab has anything." Brenda nodded, even though Sheriff Roberts wouldn't be able to see it. "Right. Good luck to you too. Bye." She hung up, and rubbed at her ear. "I hate this," she muttered.

Damn him, Mewtwo heard her. "Why?" He leaned on her desk.

"Because I'm here, when everything that needs to be done is over there." Except they were waiting on lab reports, and no one trusted the fax machines. Not even Mewtwo, who could get the damn things to sit up and beg. "Right, let's see. Petker."

Mewtwo looked confused. "Who?"

"Smith, think back nine days. Girl who poisoned her boyfriend with Tim Horton's soup. Ring any bells?"

"Now I remember, yes. What about her?"

"Her court date's scheduled, and in the mean time, she made bail. I want you to write up yet another report on the incident, file it, so we have more paper for the lawyers to play with." Brenda waved one hand. "Hop to it."

"Yes, Detective."

She looked up and frowned. Sarcasm was the norm, in this sort of situation, but resentment- she thought they'd worked past it by now.

Mewtwo had already returned to his desk. There was no way she was going to go over and start talking about something she thought she'd heard. There would be no point to it, and she wasn't going to waste her time.

Autumn was a good time for Homicide, in Viridian, so long as you didn't mind boredom. The usual rush of murders in the summer, brought on by heat that shortened tempers and fried brains, tended to die down. People weren't confined to their homes the way they were in winter, either, which meant no one would go stir-crazy enough to kill off anyone they lived with. Which wasn't to say people didn't manage to get themselves killed off, because they did. The work load was just lighter, that was all.

"You'd think there'd at least be a bunch of rioting trainers, though," Brenda muttered. The Gym was still closed. Shouldn't someone have protested?

"Detective, why are you longing for murder and mayhem?"

"Just the mayhem, M-Smith." Damn, she'd nearly slipped. "I can do without the murder."

Maybe it was time to clean out her mail box. The gods above and below only knew it needed it. There was probably a years worth of junk mail scattered throughout the pile.

She tossed the more obvious junk into the garbage- there was a flyer for Viagra, which just made her shudder- and then flipped through the rest of the papers.

Another quarter was shoved into the trash, having to do with stuff relevant a good year before. She hadn't gone to the Christmas Eve party, because there would have been mistletoe and then she'd have to punch one of her co-workers. Not a good thing, no matter what time of year it was.

She was contemplating a note on 'sexual harassment in the workplace', trying to decide if 'reporting the incident to your superior' really worked. She preferred just kneeing the bastard in the balls, letting that speak for her. Or at least, she had. No one had been stupid enough to try anything in years.

"Detective Johnson?"

"Nnn?" Seriously, would Officer Bojenski have stopped touching her if she'd gone to her sergeant at the time? No. "What?"

It was the officer from before, whatever his name was. The new guy who seemed to be playing intern. "This is for you, sir." He held out a file. "It's about a case?"

"Yeah, thanks. What's your name?"

"I, uh- Chad, ma'am. Officer Bunker, I mean." The officer blushed, and ducked his head.

"Well, Officer Bunker, thanks. And I prefer to be called 'sir'."

"Yes, sir. I'll just… go…" Bunker jerked his hand, gesturing towards the hallway at the other end of the room.

"You do that." Brenda flipped open the file, and growled. Damn scientists. "Smith! Get over here and explain what the hell 'Deoxyribonucleic acid' is!" It was, she thought, a sort of victory that she hadn't stumbled over the damn word. Even if she couldn't understand what it was, she could at least pronounce it properly.

Mewtwo sighed, and stood up. "Let me see it?"

Brenda practically shoved the file at him. "Well?"

"Deoxyribonucleic acid is DNA, Detective…" Mewtwo frowned. "Give me a moment, please?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Brenda leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.

After three minutes, Mewtwo looked up from the file. "In a nutshell, detective, they tested the DNA sample they got from…"

"From the semen sample. Now that we all know you can't say 'semen', let's continue."

He glared, and cleared his throat. "There was a partial match to a sample already on file."

Brenda stood up so fast she whacked her hipbones on the desk. "Say what?"

"And if you cut out the scientific jargon and just paraphrase, which I imagine you want me to do, the people who did the test suspect that our rapist is the son of another rapist who was in Snowhill, twenty-seven years ago."

"How the hell do you know that last bit?" Brenda groped for her chair, and sat down.

"They found and attached a case file. I suppose they were bored. Are you going to let Sheriff Roberts know?" Mewtwo arched one eyebrow.

"First you're going to dig up those old reports, would you? Or- she'd have copies. Let's go talk to her in person." She stood up again, and chewed on her lip. "Let's go."

End Notes

Yes, it's updated. I know, I know, it's late. Or at least it is to my mind. However, school decided it was more important then fanfiction (and my parents and grades agreed, so I couldn't really argue) and, due to the medical jargan (and only having seen half of the episode of Criminal Minds I sort-of-not-really based this on- the crime was for TV, this is more realistic) I felt really, really awkward writing this chapter. Awkward feeling author doesn't really write as quickly as otherwise. Anyways, let me know what you think.