Chapter Seven

Munch's POV

Fin and I were sitting at our desks the next Saturday, reading everything we could on this Carl Volkmann guy, and something about it ate at me no end. It was all too easy, clear-cut. And if there was one thing I didn't like to believe, it was things that came out to perfectly.

Elliot and Olivia came back from Cragen's office, and grabbed their coats. Elliot waved cherrily. "We're off to interview Volkmann... oh, Kit, hi."

I turned around and saw that an Asian girl stood in the doorway. At being recognized, she stepped forward.

"Can I talk to you, please?" she whispered to Elliot and Olivia. They looked at each other, and more passed in that look than an entire conversation could contain. I was a little jealous that they could do that.

"Actually, we were just about to leave, but you can talk to my friends over here, okay?" Olivia suggested, sterrign her towards us. I gave her a small smile, inwardly cursing the hell out of Olivia.

"I'm John, this is Fin," I introduced and Fin gave a small wave.

"Kit Tomoto," she answered. Olivia smiled.

"They're safe, don't worry. See you guys in a few." With that, she and Elliot walked out of the Station House. I leaned forward as Kit sat down.

"I read your interview," I began. "It was very courageous."

"Thank you. I was scared, but I had to help."

"So, what seems to be the trouble?" I asked. She gave me a strange look, and turned to Fin.

"He talks weird."

Fin gave an amused smile and said, without looking at me, "You'll get used to it. So, what's wrong?"

"Okay, my friend, Shelby, hasn't been to school in a couple of days," she began. "Mrs. Wurst asked me to take her homework to her, and when I did, she answered the door and pulled me inside.

"She said she'd read my interview, and told me that she'd gotten attacked just like me last Wednsday, and she didn't know what to do. I told her to come see you, but she'd rather you came to her. I've written her address down and everything."

She handed Fin a piece of paper with very neat writing. Fin nodded, reading it. "Thank you, Kit, we'll go see her right now. Do you need a ride home?"

She shook her head. "I'll take the bus. Just, um, help her, okay?"

"That is our job," I said, and it seemed to be enought to comfort her, because she smiled.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, kiddo."

"Shelby's in the studio," Mrs. Dent told us, instantly, as we entered their brownstone. She seemed disapproving that her daughter even had a studio, let alone went in it. Fin picked up on that vibe, too, and he asked about it.

"You don't seem to like that, Mrs. Dent," he commented as we made our way to the back of the house.

"She's painting," she explained. "She thinks I'm going to pay her attention just because she's an angsty teenager. Well, she's going to have to do something worth while to get my attention."

I raised my eyebrows at Fin, restraining the impulse to jump down her throat. As we walked up the stairs, she stayed at the bottom. When we reached the hallway, and Mrs. Dent was out of ear-shot, Fin whispered, "What is wrong with that woman?"

"I believe the disease is most commonly referred to as 'Cronic Bitchy-ness,'" I told him. "All of my ex-wives had it. It's a devasting disease for the victims."

"Most bitches don't seem like victims to me."

"I was referring to their unfortunate husbands."

"Oh."

From the room farthest down the hall I could hear sobbing. I gave Fin a look before entering. A pretty girl with short, red, spiked up hair looked up from a canvas where she was making long brushes strokes. She didn't seem surprised to see us.

"You must be those detectives Kit said she was sending over," Shelby sobbed, trying to remain calm.

"Yes, we are," I affirmed, moving to stand behind her and look at the painting. It was of a very small girl with big, round eyes in a blue, frilly dress, with red swirls around her. Taped to the canvas were many photographs of a girl that looked like the one in the picture.

"It's you, isn't it, Shelby?" I asked, forgetting that I was talking to a victim, and only seeing her as an artist. Shelby nodded.

"It's who I used to be, before it happened..." She paused, turning on he stool to face me and Fin. "I suppose you'll want to hear all about that, right?"

"We're gonna have to, if you want us to find this guy," Fin told her, and she sighed. She launched into an explanation of the attack, which was exactly like the other girls'. I could picture it. It was almost like a movie that kept running through my head. Always the same, but with different girls. And, boy, were there a lot of them.

"Was anyone there with you?" I asked.

"No, I was the last to leave the art room," she said, shaking her head. "Art Club, you know."

"And he said you were going to get extra credit?" Fin verified, looking at the notes he was taking. I never took notes. Waste of time. I remembered everything anyways.

"Yeah," Shelby remembered with a shiver. "That freaked me out so much that I didn't go to school all week."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... doesn't it sound like a teacher to you?"

I looked at Fin, whose eyes said exactly what he was thinking. I turned back to face Shelby and nodded, "That's a good theory. Do you have any teachers that you are having trouble with?"

"Well, I'm failing Mr. Volkmann's Social Studies class," Shelby told us, "but I like him. He's a good teacher."

"Has anybody ever harrassed you?" Fin asked, and Shelby shook her head.

"No, people at school think I'm weird. They think that I think I'm just the angsty artist that no one understands, which I don't." She sighed. "Kit's one of my only friends. She's a great girl. I can't believe someone would do that to her."

"Or to you," I pointed out.

"... or to anyone else," Shelby added. "Kit told me Annie Prescott was attacked, and I called her this morning, and she said Natalie Derranger was attacked, too. So then, I called Natalie, and we talked forever. She's such a sweetheart! I can't believe anyone would want to do that to her!"

"Yeah, she's a sweet kid," I commented, but Shelby wasn't finished.

"And it's kind of weird that he'd choose us," she added. I gave her a quizzical look.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Kit was the first attack, and she's the stereotypical preppy girl, except she's not preppy. Head cheerleader, pretty, lots of friends. And then Annie, whose the bully, and then Natalie, the nerd, kind of, and then me. The artsy kid. I mean... stereotypes. Like in some cheap, teen movie or something."

I looked at Fin, shocked at her insight, but Fin just gave me a small shrug. His face said, I wouldn't know. I don't watch teen movies. And I was kind of thankful that he didn't.
A/N: Please review, I love hearing what you think. And try to be constructive, if you ind something wrong. I like that. Thanks!