A/N: Back to Ingrid's POV. There is a slight mention of sexual assault in this chapter.

Shattered

By: Abellen

Chapter 11: Fingerprints

I closed the front door behind me and leant against it with my eyes closed. My heart was still racing in my chest and my skin was shivering in delight at the memory of his touch. I had nearly kissed Cornelius Fillmore, my crime fighting partner, and my best friend. I was angry with myself, but I couldn't work out why. Was it because I could have ruined a brilliant friendship with my actions, or because I didn't have the courage to go with my instincts and kiss him?

Climbing the stairs I chewed on my bottom lip as I frowned in thought. I wandered into my room and put my school bag down before throwing myself onto the bed. After a second or two I rolled over to face the ceiling, and smiled at the galaxy of stars that greeted me. Ariella had painted the mural for me for my tenth birthday. It wasn't a perfectly accurate depiction, but I had spent hours staring at it since, mapping my future in the painted heavens. I let my eyes wander to the Orion constellation and the bull he was fighting. In my more creative moments I wondered about the lives of the legendary figures traced in the stars, but today I couldn't think of anything but Fillmore.

I had never come across someone who could make me forget my troubles so easily. Normally I would have been furious at getting detention, but instead I'd almost been looking forward to it. He'd let me lean on him and fall asleep. He'd let me keep his jacket… I reached up and rubbed the collar thoughtfully with my thumb, trying to imagine what Danny and Anza would have done. I was pretty sure that, while they were my friends, they wouldn't have been quite so caring.

With a smile I rolled over onto my front again, recalling with perfect clarity Fillmore's face and the look in his eyes. I was almost certain that I hadn't been the only one tempted to steal a kiss, but that tiny doubtful fraction of me spoke loud and clear of its reservations. What if he was just being nice, and taking care of a friend in need? What if I'd read the signals wrong?

'Ingrid, are you home?' Ariella called out from her bedroom and workshop along the hall.

'Yeah, I'm in my room!' A few seconds later a timid knock on the door announced my sister's presence and I smiled as she poked her head around the door.

'Can I come in?

'Yeah.' I eyed her paint smattered face and the gleam of excitement in her eyes. 'Have you started a new painting?'

'It's for fun, rather than work,' Ariella explained, wiping her hands on the denim apron before she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me carefully. 'You look sort of flushed. Are you okay?'

I felt a blush race up my cheeks and rolled my eyes as Ariella focussed on it like a hawk. 'Oh, a full-blown blush! I wonder who could be the cause of that?' she laughed gently and poked me in the shoulder. 'Am I allowed three guesses?'

'You need three?' I asked jokingly, only to groan when Ariella clapped her hands together.

'It's Fillmore isn't it?'

'Nothing's happened,' I said quietly, getting up to sit cross-legged on the bed. 'It's just silly flirting and, well, things. I don't know, maybe I'm reading him wrong.'

'I don't think so, because I've noticed something there too. He's very - ' Ariella paused to find the right word, 'attentive, and kind of protective.'

'Yeah, well something's been happening at school that's been bothering him a lot, to me I mean.'

Ariella fell serious as I hesitantly told her about the phone calls and the notes. When I mentioned Harris she looked horrified. 'Ingrid, why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'So much has been happening, what with the funeral and everything, and he's done nothing but threaten, and even then it's nothing much.'

'Ingrid! He broke your ribs, and he could do worse this time. I'm calling the Principal. How can she let him back into her school?'

'Ariella, don't. It'll just cause more trouble. At least if he's at school I know where he is. If he gets kicked out I'll be looking over my shoulder all the time.'

'So you're going to wait until he does something bad enough to get himself put in jail? You do realise it'll be you who's the victim? Ingrid, he could rape you. For all you know he could kill you!'

'That's not making me feel better!' I shouted, my voice an exact echo of my mother's when she was angry and frightened.

Ariella quietened immediately and took my hand, squeezing it tight. 'I can't lose you, Ingrid. I'll talk to the Principal about it. If nothing else so that I know they're keeping an eye on him.'

'Please don't cause trouble,'

'I won't, but to be honest I think I appreciate Fillmore being around even more now. You're not to walk home alone, all right?'

I nodded in agreement and looked up in surprise when she got up and rushed to her room before coming back with something in her hand. 'It's just a can of mace, but it might be all you need.'

'Why have you got this?

'It can be bit scary around the college, and Mark can't always walk me home.' It was Ariella's turn to flush and I smiled knowingly before accepting the pepper spray.

'Ingrid, one last thing, and then I won't mention it again. If Harris hurts you, or touches you, or -' she made a choking sound, before continuing in a strained voice, 'rapes you, don't keep it quiet. Tell someone.'

'I will,' I said firmly, trying to reassure her. 'I think that's what scares Fillmore most. He thinks I'll keep quiet about it.'

Ariella nodded and stood up. 'I'm going to phone the Principal, and see if I can get a meeting with her or something. Can you cook dinner?'

'I can give it a shot,' I said dubiously.

'Think of it as organic chemistry, and shout if the kitchen catches fire,' Ariella grinned weakly before disappearing through the door.

I got to my feet and took off the denim jacket. I was wearing one of my black dresses, but it was looking a bit sorry for itself. By the time Halloween came around I'd probably start wearing pants more, for warmth if nothing else. I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed an apron, laughing to myself at the thought of me in a domestic situation. I could clean as well as the next person, but I seemed to have a blind spot when it came to cooking.

Idly I wondered if Fillmore could cook. He probably could. I pictured him in an apron and laughed out loud. The sound was strange coming from my mouth, and I smothered it quickly. It felt wrong to laugh when I should be worried and grieving. I busied myself around the stove, boiling spaghetti and frying minced meat. There were a couple of scary moments when everything seemed to be ready at once, but within half an hour I'd cooked a reasonable dinner and not burnt the house to the ground.

We ate our dinner in front of the television, watching a documentary about the Great Barrier Reef. The evening drew into night and with great reluctance I went to bed. Ariella had bought some herbal sleeping tablets and I took one warily. Not sleeping was one thing, but becoming addicted to sleeping pills wasn't something I wanted to cope with.

I left the bedside light on and let my eyes drift shut, blocking out the muted yellow glow. Gradually I felt my limbs grow heavier and sleep fold around me like a welcoming mother.

I didn't dream about blood and graves, but instead found myself looking at the cheerleaders' locker room again. The tiled floor beneath my feet shone a brilliant white, and the benches were clean and neat. A pair of pom-poms rested by the mirrors and I walked towards it, eyeing my own reflection critically. The red football shirt was in the corner, just as the photographs had shown, and the looked were all closed and graffiti free.

There was a tiny vanity table on which sat a box of tissues and some body spray. Someone had left their sunglasses there, and a school satchel was on the floor beside the chair. It was open, and I could just make out the contents. There was a packed lunch, which consisted mainly of fruit and seeds, a nail file and one slim text. It was blue with the X middle school crest on the spine. The writing stated: "School Policies."

The memories crowded in, obscuring the dream entirely. Image after image flew in front of my eyes until one came to rest and I jerked awake with a start as realisation and recognition hit me. The light was still on, and dawn was just breaking on the horizon. I leapt out of bed, not bothering to shower as I changed hurriedly. I swore quietly as I tried to get my boots done up quickly before grabbing my bag, the denim jacket and a few dollars to buy breakfast and lunch.

I hurried down the stairs and scribbled a note to Ariella, telling her I'd gone to school early, before grabbing my keys and making my way out of the door. It was bitterly cold and my breath steamed in the air as I pulled a woolly hat on my head. I strode quickly towards the school and whipped out the photo I had taken with me the day before. I scanned it as I climbed the steps and slipped into the school building. The janitor looked up in surprise and checked the clock, before smiling at my Safety Patrol sash. I bid him a quiet good morning before opening up the office and sitting in my chair. After a moment I reached for a magnifying glass and checked out the vanity table. The body spray and sunglasses were there, as was the bag. I could just about make out a stripe of blue with a silver X on it. I knew where I'd seen that book before. It had been under Rossi's fashion magazines in the library.

Closing the office door behind me again I made my way along the quiet corridors of X. Empty schools always gave me the creeps and I double-checked my belt for the radio as I entered the hallowed silence of the library. During the day it was bustling with quiet activity, but now it was eerily silent. The computer used for checking out the books was on and the monitor cast a glow of light in the gloom. The rising sun didn't shed much light into the library at this time of day, but as I prowled between the shelves I saw a circle of light moving across the floor. It looked like a torch beam and with a gasp I darted in between two bookcases and waited for the person to pass.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise when I saw Tanja Rossi. She was looking at the screen of her cell phone and not paying attention to what was going on around her. She reached up to pull a black hat from her head and ran a hand through her long hair. She was certainly dressed for the part of creeping around school before opening hours. She was wearing in a figure hugging black top and pants. Even her torch, gripped in her perfectly manicured hand, was black. If it had been night she would have been hard to pick out, but in the twilight-like gloom she looked out of place.

I waited until she had passed by and watched her depart. It was suspicious that she was in the library at this time of day, but there was nothing in the rules against it. I padded quietly back the way she had come, looking along each aisle for signs of her presence. It was the last row of shelves that caught my attention. A slim blue volume had been shoved ruthlessly between two history books. There wasn't enough space for it and its spine was slightly cracked from the pressure.

I paused and felt in my bag for my gloves. They weren't perfect, but Rossi hadn't been wearing any gloves at all. The cover was laminated, and there might be some prints left on it. I eased it on the shelf, trying to only touch the edges of the cover. Flicking to the inside page I smiled. The book had never been checked out. If nothing else we could question her about library book theft.

I made my way back to the reception desk and leaned over with care, scanning the barcode of my library card and the book into the computer before stamping the due date. I'd done it a dozen times before, and the librarian suffered it in silence. She would smile and shake her head, but she never shouted at me for it. She had said to me once, "After all, genius heeds not the hours, Miss Third."

I wandered back to the office, holding the book by the top right corner. When I got there I cleared some space on Tehama's desk and picked up the fingerprint dust. It had taken the girl patient hours to teach us how to dust for prints. She was, by far, the best at it, but when she was ill I tended to fill the spot.

I carefully dusted the powder across the surface and scowled at the fuzzy, woven patterns. They were from my gloves, not Rossi's fingerprints. I methodically covered every inch of the book, and was finally rewarded. A perfect fingerprint stood out on the edge closest to the spine. I ruthlessly squashed my hopes. It could be anyone's. There was no point getting excited unless there was a match.

I lifted it carefully with tape and mounted it as Karen had shown me. In a matter of moments I'd pulled Rossi's fingerprint card. Karen had taken all the cheerleaders' prints when their money went missing. I could tell from the slight smudges on the card that Tehama had been less than pleased when printing Rossi.

With a magnifying glass I picked out the defining features and felt a smile spread across my lips. It was a good match. The arch followed the same line, and so did several other distinctive marks. Saying I'd seen Rossi put the book back was one thing, but I had proof that she'd at least touched it.

With a quick glance at the clock I smiled. I still had an hour until lessons would start, and half an hour before Fillmore would get to the stop sign at the bottom of the road. I removed my gloves and sat back in my chair. Propping my boots on the desk I opened the book and began to read.

The book was hardly the most gripping read but I persevered. I had read through most of it by the time Vallejo came into the office, signalling it was time for me to go and wait for Fillmore.

'Third, what are you doing here?' Vallejo asked in surprise.

'Working,' I muttered, not looking up from the book. 'This book was in the cheerleaders locker rooms yesterday, and I saw Rossi putting it back this morning.'

'And?'

'She never checked it out, Vallejo. Why would cheerleaders want a copy of the school policies. There's nothing in here related to cheerleading, except regulation skirt length.'

'Maybe they were checking that then.'

I raised an eyebrow doubtfully before putting the book to one side. 'I'll be back in a few minutes.'

'Ok. Hey, what time did you get here?'

'About quarter to seven.'

'Geez Ingrid, get some breakfast or something. You're no good to half-starved, you know?'

I nodded in reply and made my way outside, stopping only to get a cereal bar from the vending machine. I didn't have to wait long for Fillmore to show up. In fact I'd only just leant back against the pole of the stop sign when he tapped me on the shoulder. He was looking at me disapprovingly with his arms crossed.

'What?' I asked.

'How long have you been at school, Ingrid?'

'A while,' I said evasively, taking a bite of the cereal bar.

'Is that your breakfast?' he asked disbelievingly as I finished off the crunchy concoction and put the wrapper in my pocket.

'I left the house in a hurry,' I replied, licking my fingers. The sight of that seemed to make him uncomfortable and I smothered another smile. 'I worked out what was in the photo by the way. For some reason there as a book of school policies in the changing rooms. I went to get it out of the library and found Rossi sneaking around. I'm pretty sure she took the book without checking it out, and was only just putting it back.'

'Maybe they were checking on the skirt-length regulations.'

'Fillmore!' I growled in exasperation.

Fillmore laughed before raising his hands in surrender. 'Okay, so have you found anything that might tie in with the calls?'

'Nothing yet, but I've not read it all thoroughly. There's got to be some reason she had it.'

'Maybe she just wants to get on the student board or something?'

I shook my head as we began walking back to the school. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about Rossi that set me on edge. Oh, she was annoying and stuck up, but there was a fanaticism about her, a thirst to be known that made me wary. She was the kind of girl unused to getting her way, and I'd seen her ruthlessness with my own eyes. She'd stop at nothing to be remembered, and I had no doubt that she wouldn't let anything or anyone get in her way.

End of Chapter 11

A/N: Well it's Sunday, and that means it's time for an update. I think there are definately another nine chapters of this story, and then possibly a sequel. Would you be interested in a sequel that was character, rather than case based? Is there anything you'd like to see in Fillmore fanfiction? Maybe I'll see if I can write some of your ideas into future stories, as a thank you for reviewing :)