Authors Note: Sorry it's taking me forever to post, I've been busy. This
is my first fic, so please bear with me. Any advice or criticism is very
welcome, bring it on. This chapter's not quite as action-packed as the
first, but I'm not positive where I'm going yet, so I'm taking it slow.
Any suggestions are welcome also. Ok, I think that's it. Enjoy!
Sam sat huddled in the corner as he watched the EMT's take his mother away. In a body bag. One of the technicians was sitting with him, saying something, what, he didn't know. The words were just part of the buzzing that filled the room, filled his head. All he could see was that hand print. Why was it there? Who had caused it? What could they have done to cause a silver print on his mom's chest? Rape? But she had looked so peaceful...she had to have died in her sleep. Unless the killer had knocked her out before he had raped her, now there's an idea! But no, there were no real signs of rape anyway, except for the print. And why? What was the reason for killing her? What was the motive? And why the hell was it silver?
There was no real evidence of murder, except for the hand print, which was not really illuminating. But there was no doubt in Sam's mind, as he thought in circles, flipping through the events of the evening, his shocked brain focused on one thing and one thing only. Who? Who killed his mother? If that could be answered, all the other pieces would fall into place, all the other questions would be answered. And Sam knew the answer to that question, at least part of it. He knew that her killer was whoever had been in the woods that night, whoever ha made that bright light. But besides that, he knew nothing. That little tidbit answered no questions.
A man walked into the room, along with two cops who both looked rather uneasy. The man, however, seemed confident, even unconcerned, as he surveyed the barely controlled chaos in the bedroom. He whispered something to one of the cops, who nodded, before walking over to the corner where Sam still sat, his scrambled mind desperately trying to block out reality. He was brought back, however, by the man's crisp, no-nonsense voice.
"Hi! I'm Detective Jenson," he said, sticking out his hand. It remained unshaken. "I was wondering if you could tell me what happened here?"
Sam looked up at him, bewildered, as if he'd entered the room for the first time. The technician sitting with him gave the detective a dirty look. "Can't you give him some time?" she whispered, as if trying to keep Sam from hearing, though he was sitting right next to her. "He just lost his mother!"
Detective Jenson sighed, and, trying to sound sympathetic, he addressed Sam again with a kind smile. "I know this is hard for you, son, but I need to know what you know, and if you don't tell me now..." Jenson swallowed a few mild threats he usually used in these types of situations. "...it will just be harder to tell me later."
There was no response from Sam. His eyes had become glassy and guarded again. Jenson clenched his teeth and tried to hide his exasperation. He sympathized with the kid, he really did. He'd lost his father just last year, to lung cancer. It had been quick, when they found the tumor he only had a few weeks to live. Not quite the same, but he knew what it was like to lose a parent. But it was going to make his life and job a lot harder if the kid refused to speak. "Look, kid, anything you could tell us would really help in the investigation. I mean, there's no evidence of foul play yet, the coroner is going to check her system for poison, which is our best guess right now, but as far as we know, she could have died of a heart attack..."
"She didn't have a heart attack!" Sam suddenly screamed, leaping to his feet. "She was murdered, and I know who did it! It was the person in the woods! The one with the light!"
The detective stepped back at this outburst, as a fire had sparked in the boy's eyes. At least it had cracked his shell. "Whoa, slow down. What light?"
Sam calmed down enough to relate the story of the bright light and the person in the woods to the detective. "...and afterwards I couldn't see anything for a few seconds, so I never actually saw them, but I heard them running away."
"How do you know this person killed your mother?"
Sam faltered at the question, blinking. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? I mean two weird things, this light and this...hand print, and the only connection is the person in the woods."
"But they're not connected to the hand print. And how do you know the light wasn't just a flashlight?"
Rational thought started to once again settle in Sam's mind, and he caught the edge of skepticism in the detective's voice and eyes. 'He thinks I'm crazy', Sam thought. "It wasn't a flashlight." he said adamantly. "Besides, why would someone be out in the woods at night anyway?"
Jenson seemed to consider this. "Good point," he said. "What were you doing out there?"
A second shock hit Sam as he realized what the detective was implying. 'No,' he thought, mentally correcting himself. 'He doesn't think I'm crazy. He thinks I'm guilty.'
Sam sat huddled in the corner as he watched the EMT's take his mother away. In a body bag. One of the technicians was sitting with him, saying something, what, he didn't know. The words were just part of the buzzing that filled the room, filled his head. All he could see was that hand print. Why was it there? Who had caused it? What could they have done to cause a silver print on his mom's chest? Rape? But she had looked so peaceful...she had to have died in her sleep. Unless the killer had knocked her out before he had raped her, now there's an idea! But no, there were no real signs of rape anyway, except for the print. And why? What was the reason for killing her? What was the motive? And why the hell was it silver?
There was no real evidence of murder, except for the hand print, which was not really illuminating. But there was no doubt in Sam's mind, as he thought in circles, flipping through the events of the evening, his shocked brain focused on one thing and one thing only. Who? Who killed his mother? If that could be answered, all the other pieces would fall into place, all the other questions would be answered. And Sam knew the answer to that question, at least part of it. He knew that her killer was whoever had been in the woods that night, whoever ha made that bright light. But besides that, he knew nothing. That little tidbit answered no questions.
A man walked into the room, along with two cops who both looked rather uneasy. The man, however, seemed confident, even unconcerned, as he surveyed the barely controlled chaos in the bedroom. He whispered something to one of the cops, who nodded, before walking over to the corner where Sam still sat, his scrambled mind desperately trying to block out reality. He was brought back, however, by the man's crisp, no-nonsense voice.
"Hi! I'm Detective Jenson," he said, sticking out his hand. It remained unshaken. "I was wondering if you could tell me what happened here?"
Sam looked up at him, bewildered, as if he'd entered the room for the first time. The technician sitting with him gave the detective a dirty look. "Can't you give him some time?" she whispered, as if trying to keep Sam from hearing, though he was sitting right next to her. "He just lost his mother!"
Detective Jenson sighed, and, trying to sound sympathetic, he addressed Sam again with a kind smile. "I know this is hard for you, son, but I need to know what you know, and if you don't tell me now..." Jenson swallowed a few mild threats he usually used in these types of situations. "...it will just be harder to tell me later."
There was no response from Sam. His eyes had become glassy and guarded again. Jenson clenched his teeth and tried to hide his exasperation. He sympathized with the kid, he really did. He'd lost his father just last year, to lung cancer. It had been quick, when they found the tumor he only had a few weeks to live. Not quite the same, but he knew what it was like to lose a parent. But it was going to make his life and job a lot harder if the kid refused to speak. "Look, kid, anything you could tell us would really help in the investigation. I mean, there's no evidence of foul play yet, the coroner is going to check her system for poison, which is our best guess right now, but as far as we know, she could have died of a heart attack..."
"She didn't have a heart attack!" Sam suddenly screamed, leaping to his feet. "She was murdered, and I know who did it! It was the person in the woods! The one with the light!"
The detective stepped back at this outburst, as a fire had sparked in the boy's eyes. At least it had cracked his shell. "Whoa, slow down. What light?"
Sam calmed down enough to relate the story of the bright light and the person in the woods to the detective. "...and afterwards I couldn't see anything for a few seconds, so I never actually saw them, but I heard them running away."
"How do you know this person killed your mother?"
Sam faltered at the question, blinking. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? I mean two weird things, this light and this...hand print, and the only connection is the person in the woods."
"But they're not connected to the hand print. And how do you know the light wasn't just a flashlight?"
Rational thought started to once again settle in Sam's mind, and he caught the edge of skepticism in the detective's voice and eyes. 'He thinks I'm crazy', Sam thought. "It wasn't a flashlight." he said adamantly. "Besides, why would someone be out in the woods at night anyway?"
Jenson seemed to consider this. "Good point," he said. "What were you doing out there?"
A second shock hit Sam as he realized what the detective was implying. 'No,' he thought, mentally correcting himself. 'He doesn't think I'm crazy. He thinks I'm guilty.'