Chain of Darkness
Chapter Nine--
**********
Author's note: Just wanted to let you all know... About the whole knife bit-- I knew that you aren't supposed to pull a knife out. My aunt is a doctor; I just threw that in for a little extra angst :) Thank you for pointing it out though-- I try hard to stay close to reality. Oh also, sorry for not posting for so long--I was busy shooting a new Charlize Theron/ Christina Ricci movie and had to be on set for hours and hours and hours...far away from my computer! I swear it was calling me ;) BTW, I didnt know the name of the precinct Chief so I made one up...
**********
The halls of the precinct were relatively quiet as Matt and Sam made their way to the Chief's office. He had called them in a few minutes ago, no doubt wanting an update on the ongoing investigation. He was about to be disappointed.
Chief Nolan, who was on the phone, looked up from his desk as his two top-detectives filed in silently and closed the door behind them. He nodded hello and held up his finger for them to wait a moment. They took the empty chairs in front of him
As he watched them, he couldn't help but think of what an odd pair these two were. Sam Taylor, short, dark, and stocky, was at least twenty years older then his young partner and six inches shorter. He had a quiet way about him, usually standing back and observing they way Matt would work a case, adding his own input when needed.
Matt, on the other hand, was his polar opposite. He was tall, blond, and dimpled with a charming Texan accent. He was extremely intelligent and had aced all of his tests, allowing him to be the youngest detective on the force. The Chief had like the young man right away, and paired him up with Taylor, a more senior detective. They made an unlikely duo, but they got the job done.
Nolan finished his phone call and leaned back in his chair. "Sorry about that. So guys, what have you got?"
Sam glanced at his partner.
"We have the file right here if you want a visual." Matt carelessly tossed a thin folder onto the desk. He didn't look happy.
The Chief grabbed it up and opened it, expecting to see pages full of notes. Instead a single sheet of blank paper was inside. He looked up, puzzled.
"What's this?"
"That's what we have on this guy. Nothing. Not one new lead." Matt crossed his arms. "With all of the analyzing that went on, you'd think we could trace one piece of that bomb, wouldn't you? Well, we didn't bet on this guy. He managed to build an untraceable bomb."
The Chief looked confused.
Matt continued. "The materials that were used were all highly flammable and ninety percent of it was destroyed during the fire. The stuff that wasn't flammable was so common that you could pick it up at any hardware store."
"What about the footage from the parking lot?"
The security camera tapes from the station's parking lot were taken and sent out to be examined. They had concluded that the bomb had been placed and in Moretti's truck during the day while he was out working, and were hoping that they would have caught the suspect planting it.
"Zilch. Either the guy was really lucky because Moretti parked his truck outside the security camera's perimeter; or he knew the margins and chose his next victim for this reason."
The Chief sighed in displeasure and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was hoping that they would get some kind of lead from the analysis of the crime scene and tapes. They were getting nowhere with this case.
"Okay boys, let's go back to square one. I want you to tell me all that you have on this guy, starting with the first murder."
**********
Bosco stared out the window of the RMP, watching the road for slicks of ice. After careful examination of his wound, Doc had been relieved to find that even though it looked terrible, the blade had only gone through the fleshy part of his upper arm, missing any major muscles or arteries. Fortunately, when Faith had panicked and pulled the knife out, her wrong move hadn't caused any additional damage.
The ER doctor had fixed him up and sent him home with twelve sutures and a thick bandage covering the majority of his upper-arm. The pain was gone now, thanks to a shot of numbing medication, but his arm was a little stiff. The doctor had told him that it would probably be smart to take a few days off, but when Bosco had protested he'd reluctantly agreed that if he took it easy, he could return to work the following day.
Faith had been upset about the whole incident, naturally, but when Doc had expressed concern about additional damage because of her mistake, she'd felt terrible. She kept apologizing over and over, even though he'd tried repeatedly to let her know that he would have done the same thing. She wasn't a paramedic--how was she supposed to know?
The silence in the car was starting to bother him. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, this week has kinda sucked, huh?"
"Yeah," she said quietly. She kept her eyes on the road.
"So, I guess I get stuck at the desk tomorrow. Good, I was getting sick of traipsing around in this crummy weather anyway; it'll be nice and warm and quiet," he lied, hoping to make her feel better. He hated being cooped up inside all day.
Bosco could see a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, I see, a little too much 'action' out here for you?" she teased.
He tried to hide a smile. "Hell, no! I just like to be warm, that's all."
Faith just chuckled; she could see right through his lies.
**********
Steve Gusler sat slumped over at his desk, his nearly dry pen scratching the paper as he wrote out reports. His hand ached from writing all day, and his eyesight was getting bleary from reading in the dim lighting. Occasionally, his eyes would wander down the hall to the large door on the end.
The head detectives had walked in there hours ago, and he knew they were discussing the bombing case with the Chief. He longed to be in there with them; to be a detective, conferring with Chief about his theories, spelling out his game plan and reassuring him that everything was under his control.
Unfortunately, he was a lowly rookie, stuck doing everybody's unwanted paperwork. He rarely got to go out onto the streets—he was just used a backup for a sick or injured partner. Tomorrow was no exception; he'd been assigned to ride along with Faith Yokas. Apparently, her hotheaded, accident-prone partner, Boscorelli, had gotten himself into a knife fight or something. He liked Faith alright, but she treated him like she was babysitting him. Boscorelli was just a jerk.
He resignedly continued with his reports, wishing that he were a 'real' cop, out on the streets doing the real work--the stuff he'd signed up to do.
A head peeked out of the door across from his desk.
"Gusler—Chief just rang, he needs more coffee in there. Two blacks with sugar and one with cream."
"Okay."
Oh yeah, he was also the coffee boy.
The Styrofoam cups were hot in his hands as he knocked twice on the heavy wooden door. A muffled 'come in' barely reached his ears, and he struggled to turn the knob and balance the steaming cups.
The Chief sat inside, slouched at his desk; the two detectives sat in front of him, nearly sprawled out in their chairs. Papers littered the desk and floor, and empty coffee cups were carelessly discarded in a pile. The three men had long since removed their suit jackets, and their ties hung limply around their necks.
Chief Nolan gave Gusler a tired smile, "Thank you," he looked over at the detectives, "I feel as though I've measured my day with coffee cups."
The detectives both gave a small chuckle, then the blond one sunk deeper into his chair rubbing his face with both hands. His shirt collar had been unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up.
"Is there anything else I can get you, sirs?" Gusler asked.
"No, thank you, that's all." Another weary smile from Nolan.
Gusler closed the door behind him slowly and trudged down the hall, noting the time on the large clock that sat on the wall adjacent to his desk. His shift was over, finally. He hurriedly straightened the papers on his desk and turned of his lamp.
A short time later he arrived at his apartment building and parked in the lower parking garage. The large, concrete garage was dark and silent and his footsteps echoed loudly off of the walls. The florescent lighting cast a bluish, flickering light, creating an eerie atmosphere.
He'd always hated coming home late to this place, but after the last week he was even more anxious than usual. His imagination started to wander, leaving an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The shadows seemed to crawl with unseen creatures.
Come on, Gusler, suck it up. There's nothing out to get you, he told himself. But he continued to feel growing fear sweep over him. He jumped nervously at a soft sound behind him and his pace quickened as he made his way to the prehistoric elevator in the corner.
**********
He watched his prey move hastily through the garage, his eyes darting back and forth, afraid. His mouth twisted into a malicious grin. He purposely scuffed his shoe softly against the floor and nearly laughed as the young man jumped apprehensively.
He looked on silently as his obviously frightened victim walked faster towards the old elevator, hands stuffed nervously into his coat pockets. Poor boy, he was scared now and he hadn't even done anything…this one would be fun to kill.
**********
TBC... Thanx for all the GREAT reviews!!!!
Chapter Nine--
**********
Author's note: Just wanted to let you all know... About the whole knife bit-- I knew that you aren't supposed to pull a knife out. My aunt is a doctor; I just threw that in for a little extra angst :) Thank you for pointing it out though-- I try hard to stay close to reality. Oh also, sorry for not posting for so long--I was busy shooting a new Charlize Theron/ Christina Ricci movie and had to be on set for hours and hours and hours...far away from my computer! I swear it was calling me ;) BTW, I didnt know the name of the precinct Chief so I made one up...
**********
The halls of the precinct were relatively quiet as Matt and Sam made their way to the Chief's office. He had called them in a few minutes ago, no doubt wanting an update on the ongoing investigation. He was about to be disappointed.
Chief Nolan, who was on the phone, looked up from his desk as his two top-detectives filed in silently and closed the door behind them. He nodded hello and held up his finger for them to wait a moment. They took the empty chairs in front of him
As he watched them, he couldn't help but think of what an odd pair these two were. Sam Taylor, short, dark, and stocky, was at least twenty years older then his young partner and six inches shorter. He had a quiet way about him, usually standing back and observing they way Matt would work a case, adding his own input when needed.
Matt, on the other hand, was his polar opposite. He was tall, blond, and dimpled with a charming Texan accent. He was extremely intelligent and had aced all of his tests, allowing him to be the youngest detective on the force. The Chief had like the young man right away, and paired him up with Taylor, a more senior detective. They made an unlikely duo, but they got the job done.
Nolan finished his phone call and leaned back in his chair. "Sorry about that. So guys, what have you got?"
Sam glanced at his partner.
"We have the file right here if you want a visual." Matt carelessly tossed a thin folder onto the desk. He didn't look happy.
The Chief grabbed it up and opened it, expecting to see pages full of notes. Instead a single sheet of blank paper was inside. He looked up, puzzled.
"What's this?"
"That's what we have on this guy. Nothing. Not one new lead." Matt crossed his arms. "With all of the analyzing that went on, you'd think we could trace one piece of that bomb, wouldn't you? Well, we didn't bet on this guy. He managed to build an untraceable bomb."
The Chief looked confused.
Matt continued. "The materials that were used were all highly flammable and ninety percent of it was destroyed during the fire. The stuff that wasn't flammable was so common that you could pick it up at any hardware store."
"What about the footage from the parking lot?"
The security camera tapes from the station's parking lot were taken and sent out to be examined. They had concluded that the bomb had been placed and in Moretti's truck during the day while he was out working, and were hoping that they would have caught the suspect planting it.
"Zilch. Either the guy was really lucky because Moretti parked his truck outside the security camera's perimeter; or he knew the margins and chose his next victim for this reason."
The Chief sighed in displeasure and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was hoping that they would get some kind of lead from the analysis of the crime scene and tapes. They were getting nowhere with this case.
"Okay boys, let's go back to square one. I want you to tell me all that you have on this guy, starting with the first murder."
**********
Bosco stared out the window of the RMP, watching the road for slicks of ice. After careful examination of his wound, Doc had been relieved to find that even though it looked terrible, the blade had only gone through the fleshy part of his upper arm, missing any major muscles or arteries. Fortunately, when Faith had panicked and pulled the knife out, her wrong move hadn't caused any additional damage.
The ER doctor had fixed him up and sent him home with twelve sutures and a thick bandage covering the majority of his upper-arm. The pain was gone now, thanks to a shot of numbing medication, but his arm was a little stiff. The doctor had told him that it would probably be smart to take a few days off, but when Bosco had protested he'd reluctantly agreed that if he took it easy, he could return to work the following day.
Faith had been upset about the whole incident, naturally, but when Doc had expressed concern about additional damage because of her mistake, she'd felt terrible. She kept apologizing over and over, even though he'd tried repeatedly to let her know that he would have done the same thing. She wasn't a paramedic--how was she supposed to know?
The silence in the car was starting to bother him. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, this week has kinda sucked, huh?"
"Yeah," she said quietly. She kept her eyes on the road.
"So, I guess I get stuck at the desk tomorrow. Good, I was getting sick of traipsing around in this crummy weather anyway; it'll be nice and warm and quiet," he lied, hoping to make her feel better. He hated being cooped up inside all day.
Bosco could see a small smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, I see, a little too much 'action' out here for you?" she teased.
He tried to hide a smile. "Hell, no! I just like to be warm, that's all."
Faith just chuckled; she could see right through his lies.
**********
Steve Gusler sat slumped over at his desk, his nearly dry pen scratching the paper as he wrote out reports. His hand ached from writing all day, and his eyesight was getting bleary from reading in the dim lighting. Occasionally, his eyes would wander down the hall to the large door on the end.
The head detectives had walked in there hours ago, and he knew they were discussing the bombing case with the Chief. He longed to be in there with them; to be a detective, conferring with Chief about his theories, spelling out his game plan and reassuring him that everything was under his control.
Unfortunately, he was a lowly rookie, stuck doing everybody's unwanted paperwork. He rarely got to go out onto the streets—he was just used a backup for a sick or injured partner. Tomorrow was no exception; he'd been assigned to ride along with Faith Yokas. Apparently, her hotheaded, accident-prone partner, Boscorelli, had gotten himself into a knife fight or something. He liked Faith alright, but she treated him like she was babysitting him. Boscorelli was just a jerk.
He resignedly continued with his reports, wishing that he were a 'real' cop, out on the streets doing the real work--the stuff he'd signed up to do.
A head peeked out of the door across from his desk.
"Gusler—Chief just rang, he needs more coffee in there. Two blacks with sugar and one with cream."
"Okay."
Oh yeah, he was also the coffee boy.
The Styrofoam cups were hot in his hands as he knocked twice on the heavy wooden door. A muffled 'come in' barely reached his ears, and he struggled to turn the knob and balance the steaming cups.
The Chief sat inside, slouched at his desk; the two detectives sat in front of him, nearly sprawled out in their chairs. Papers littered the desk and floor, and empty coffee cups were carelessly discarded in a pile. The three men had long since removed their suit jackets, and their ties hung limply around their necks.
Chief Nolan gave Gusler a tired smile, "Thank you," he looked over at the detectives, "I feel as though I've measured my day with coffee cups."
The detectives both gave a small chuckle, then the blond one sunk deeper into his chair rubbing his face with both hands. His shirt collar had been unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up.
"Is there anything else I can get you, sirs?" Gusler asked.
"No, thank you, that's all." Another weary smile from Nolan.
Gusler closed the door behind him slowly and trudged down the hall, noting the time on the large clock that sat on the wall adjacent to his desk. His shift was over, finally. He hurriedly straightened the papers on his desk and turned of his lamp.
A short time later he arrived at his apartment building and parked in the lower parking garage. The large, concrete garage was dark and silent and his footsteps echoed loudly off of the walls. The florescent lighting cast a bluish, flickering light, creating an eerie atmosphere.
He'd always hated coming home late to this place, but after the last week he was even more anxious than usual. His imagination started to wander, leaving an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The shadows seemed to crawl with unseen creatures.
Come on, Gusler, suck it up. There's nothing out to get you, he told himself. But he continued to feel growing fear sweep over him. He jumped nervously at a soft sound behind him and his pace quickened as he made his way to the prehistoric elevator in the corner.
**********
He watched his prey move hastily through the garage, his eyes darting back and forth, afraid. His mouth twisted into a malicious grin. He purposely scuffed his shoe softly against the floor and nearly laughed as the young man jumped apprehensively.
He looked on silently as his obviously frightened victim walked faster towards the old elevator, hands stuffed nervously into his coat pockets. Poor boy, he was scared now and he hadn't even done anything…this one would be fun to kill.
**********
TBC... Thanx for all the GREAT reviews!!!!