PART 7 – A Touch Of Evil
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There's a touch of evil – in my mind
There's a touch of evil – in these eyes
There's a touch of evil
This time – A touch of evil
"Touch of evil" By: Warlock
Thursday
July 29, 2004
2110 Local
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station
Mattie hesitated before walking into Harm's apartment. Something was telling her not to walk in, that something terrible had happened. Removing her hand from the doorknob she started to retreat towards her apartment, but stopped abruptly. This was Harm, her guardian, the closest thing she had to a father at the moment. He would never hurt her, or Mac, or anyone else for that matter. "You're losing it Mathilda." She said out loud with a chuckle and began walking down the corridor back to Harm's door.
Opening it, she walked in and found the radio on some intense rock station and a shirtless Harm with his back turned to her. He was standing over the sink, his arms moving swiftly. The closer Mattie came, the more she smelled that unmistakable aroma of bleach. "Harm?" She said, but noticed that the music was a bit too loud, so she yelled again. "Harm?" Tapping him on the shoulder, Harm turned around. Eyes that didn't know her glared down and then slowly, realization started setting in. His brow unfurled and his frown turned into a smile.
"Hey, Kiddo, what are you up to?" He said, going back to normal again. Harm shook his head for a moment, dispersing the cobwebs that were threatening him again. Mattie shrugged and said something, something that he couldn't hear. Suddenly he had tunnel vision and a wave of vertigo. His breathing changed. He couldn't hear her, but he still smiled when she did.
"Are you alright, Harm? You look funny? You and Mac having a fight again?" Mattie grinned, she tried as much as possible to drop Mac's name in conversations. This sailor definitely needed as many hints as possible that he and Mac should be together. Maybe a bop over the head would help? Harm just nodded and she took that as reassurance. "You should open a window, that stuff can't be good for you to breathe in." She added, retreating away from the smell with a wave.
When the door closed Harm turned back to the sink and closed his eyes. His head was spinning mercilessly and he had to hold on to the counter in order for him not to fall. What was that smell? Opening his eyes, he looked down and saw a bucket with water and his white dress pants floating. "What the hell?"
Pulling the pants out of the water, he noticed a rather large pink spot that was slowly dissipating. There was a smell, not of bleach but something else. A smell that only those that fought and killed knew. A smell of death. Harm spun around, opened the drawer in his kitchen island and shook his head in shock. "It's missing." He said out loud, referring to his service weapon which was always there. Always. "Where the hell is it?" Harm hurried through his apartment, scavenging all of the areas that he might have chosen to put the weapon. Even his refrigerator was opened up and rummaged through, but the weapon was nowhere to be found.
As he made his way past the dinner table to take a look on the emergency exit of his apartment, he smelled it again - death. The smell was overwhelming him, almost making him gag. He hesitated in opening the door, but eventually, the smell went away. Harm opened the door wide and found nothing there, nothing at all. When the wind swept through the area, that nauseating smell presented itself again. Looking down, to where the dumpsters for the building were located, he saw it, a body.
After putting on a shirt and hurrying down the escape ladder, he jumped down the last few steps, stopping just ten feet away from the dumpster. Harm pulled his shirt collar over his nose, the smell was so bad, that it was making him want to vomit. Covering his mouth as best he could, Harm climbed the side of the dumpster and saw the body, it was turned over so he couldn't take a good look at the face. But, from the bulging of muscles, he could tell the person was male. Taking a deep breath, he jumped into the dumpster and turned the person over. It was then he noticed the person, Petty Officer Larson's dead eyes bore into Harm's. And there, next to the body Harm saw it, his service weapon was sticking out through the bags of garbage. "I don't understand." He said softly. Taking the weapon, he removed the magazine and took a look. There were four shots missing, shots that surely were embedded in Petty Officer Larson's chest. And sure enough, they were.
Out of nowhere, an idea shot into his head, telling him exactly what to do. Quickly, he jumped out of the dumpster with his service weapon and ran his way up the front stairs. He ran through his apartment and to his bathroom, pausing only to pick up a knife and cleaning gloves from the kitchen. In the bathroom, he took the knife and began scratching the registration number and methods of identification off of the weapon. It was a difficult task because he was shaking as he did it, so much that the knife missed, went through the gloves and left a very nasty wound on the palm of his hand. But, it didn't deter Harm from his task. If anything, it made it all the more serious. Once done, the shaking had stopped and he was in full control using rubbing alcohol which he applied to the pistol. The liquid burned into his wound, causing tears to fall through the pain. Sure that his prints were no longer on the weapon, he took a fresh towel, wrapped the weapon in it and headed downstairs. He had to get rid of it. Something inside told him that it didn't matter, that things would be taken care of, but he ignored that part. Running on autopilot, Harm could do nothing but obey, he had to get rid of evidence. He couldn't go to the brig, not again, not again. So he drove out of DC.
His plan, he had overheard while reading a newspaper with stories on gruesome discoveries. Stopping at a market away from his home, Harm bough a rather large round of meat. With the bit of rope that he had in the back of the SUV, he would tie his gun securely around the bloody meat, toss it into the ocean and pray that one of God's sea creatures would devour it. When he arrived back home, he headed towards the dumpster to rid himself of his burden. But, when he scaled the side and looked in, the body was gone.
