"I'm going to ask you again, Nathaniel. Where is Shaun Mars?"
"I remember every soul I've prayed for. I've told you, I know nothing about Shaun Mars."
"You don't remember anything about a boy you kidnapped this morning? Or about eight other kids you've drowned in a god damn tank of rainwater?"
"Do not take the Lord's name in vain!"
"Where is he? Nathaniel!"
"I don't know!"
Norman sighed and lowered his head as he watched Blake and Nathaniel, clasping his hands together and pressing his knuckles against his mouth. He wanted to go back into the ARI, but he couldn't leave the room knowing that Blake was interrogating an innocent man. Every minute that passed was a minute wasted that could be spent finding the killer. But Blake had his own agenda, and unfortunately for Norman, he was tied to it as well.
"I'll make a deal with you, Nathaniel." Blake leaned against the table, and Nathaniel shrank back into his chair. "You tell us where you've got the kid, and I'll pay for a first-class trip all the way to the fucking Vatican. I'll make you the god damn Pope."
Nathaniel shook his head violently, and glared up at Blake. "And the Lord is my shepherd, guiding me from the temptations and lies of the fallen angel, Lucifer."
For a moment, the room was silent. Norman looked back and forth between the two men, and silently hoped they'd reached a stalemate. It was about time they got some actual work done.
Blake twisted and looked at the reflective window behind him. "Taylor, I think I've had about enough of this religious bullshit."
A garbled voice rang through the intercom. "Got it."
Blake stood up slowly. Norman straightened his shoulders, feeling the energy flow back into him. Finally they were done wasting time.
Nathaniel let out a choked yelp as Blake descended on him, hooking his left arm around Nathaniel's throat. The small man kicked at the table and flung his arms wildly.
"Blake!" Without thinking, Norman rushed at the two men, grabbing a hold of Blake's shoulders in attempt to pry him off. Blake jerked, and Norman's right eye exploded in pain. He fell backward against the wall, pressing his palm against his eye as it watered furiously.
"You gonna tell us now, huh?" Blake growled over Nathaniel's labored gasps. "God isn't gonna do shit for you now, Nathaniel. Tell us where he is!"
Norman forced himself onto his feet, struggling to get his nerves in order. He pushed off the wall and barreled into Blake, locking his arm against his chest. Blake bucked and twisted.
"Get the fuck off me! Fucking prick!" The room spun as Norman was thrown in the air, and he cried out as the breath was blown from his lungs. He rolled on his side sucking in air. Above him, Nathaniel hunched in his chair, panting heavily.
Blake's shiny black shoes obscured Norman's vision. Then Norman was yanked upwards by the collar, and found himself nose to nose with Blake's furious face. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Norman?" Blake shouted in his face. "You wanna catch the Origami Killer or not?"
"Hey, Blake." The intercom rang again. "Hey the mother of the missing kid is here to see you."
"Tell her to fuck off!" Blake shoved and Norman hit the wall, his mind swimming. He scrambled to get a better view of Nathaniel, and felt a small relief to see the man curled onto the chair with his legs drawn up.
"She says she may have information about the identity of the Origami Killer."
Norman's body went numb for a second. He looked up at Blake, who stood frozen.
"We already got him," said Blake. "Did she say it was this pussy right here?" Blake smacked the back of Nathaniel's head, and Nathaniel curled into a tighter ball.
"Nah. She said she thinks it's her husband."
The room was silent for a moment. Norman watched the two men, and Blake ran a hand across his bearded face. Blake muttered a noise, then strode quickly to the door, flinging it open and disappearing on the other side.
Norman rushed to Nathaniel, relief flowing through him. "Shh, it's okay." He helped Nathaniel into a sitting position as Nathaniel sobbed quietly. "I'm real sorry about that guy. He's going to be reported for this."
Nathaniel clutched the front of Norman's jacket and gazed at him with bloodshot eyes. "You mustn't trust the lies of the deceiver. Your soul will be damned if you conspire with the demons."
Norman backed away, pulling gently at Nathaniel's hands. "Look, he may be a cop, but he's not going to get away with this. I promise."
Nathaniel's hair whipped as he shook his head. "Not him. The she-devil." Norman paused, watching Nathaniel curiously. "The Lord is forgiving of many temptations, natural or unnatural. But she is an evil like no other." Nathaniel pulled himself closer, and Norman's gut twisted. "Let your temptations go, and accept the Lord into your heart before it's too late."
Norman wrenched the man's hands off his jacket and stepped backward, his heart pounding. Without another word to Nathaniel, he moved quickly to the door and exited the room.
Fresh sweat beaded his face, and for a moment Norman worried he would have another episode. He dug into his pocket for a vial but stopped as powerful anxiety flowed through him. That man was insane. Temptations? It really was religious bullshit. But somehow it gave Norman chills. He couldn't possibly mean the ARI and the triptocaine…
Norman gave his head a shake. He was just a crazy man with a knack for coincidence. Blake was as close to the anti-Christ as any human on earth could get. But Ashley Gibbons was about as much of a devil as an infant learning to walk. It didn't mean anything. And Norman didn't have time to worry about whether a religious nut was telling the truth or not.
He strode down the hallway and entered the lobby which seemed much busier now that it was midday. He scanned the cubicles and saw the back of Blake's form near the entrance. Norman moved quickly, dodging the officers passing by. As he approached the entrance, he felt his face heat up.
"Blake, if you think you can man-handle the suspects without getting reported─" Norman stopped as Blake turned to him and exposed a red-haired woman whose face was streaked with tears. Ashley had her arm around her shoulder and looked up at Norman as he approached.
"We know who the killer is," said Blake. "I'm leaving right now to apprehend him." Blake moved away, and Norman scrambled to organize his thoughts.
"Are you absolutely sure this time?" said Norman. "Or do you need to rough him up a bit first?"
Blake froze, and for the first time, Norman felt a twinge of fear. Blake spun around and marched to him, and it took everything in Norman's power to stand still. His jaw tensed as Blake leaned into him.
"Listen, you entitled FBI faggot," Blake growled in his ear. "You get in my way one more time, and I'll be sending you back to Washington myself in a fucking lunchbox." He turned away and walked through the doors.
Norman sighed heavily, putting his forehead in his hands and letting the stress leak away. There were voices and movement around him, but he could hardly focus. This job was going to kill him in more ways than one.
He felt a hand on his upper arm, and looked up into Ashley's face. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at his eye. "Jesus Christ, what happened in there?" she said.
He shook his head and motioned towards the red-haired woman who was walking away with a few officers. "What did she say?"
Ashley nodded her head and her shoulders tensed. "That her husband, Ethan Mars, is the Origami Killer." She raised her thumb to her lip, then dropped it quickly. "He showed up at her house a few months ago in the middle of the night in something of a fugue state. Said something about people drowning. And the next day we found the seventh victim." Norman scratched the back of his neck as Ashley shifted next to him. "You think he could be the killer?"
Norman stared at the floor. "I won't know until I do some research. Or until Blake drags him in." He ran both of his hands down his face, flinching when he touched his eye.
Ashley gazed at him. "Want me to get some ice?"
Norman smiled, and rubbed his eye carefully. He hoped it wouldn't have an effect on the ARI. He needed to use it quickly before Blake arrived, and he felt an unexpected pang of doubt. He didn't want anyone to interfere with the ARI, and most certainly didn't want anyone to be aware of his reaction to overuse. Ashley was hard enough to get rid of as it was, and despite his growing comfort to the environment, Norman couldn't help but think back on Nathaniel's ravings.
He breathed out slowly. "Actually, I think you should go with Blake," he said. "He shouldn't be trying to apprehend a suspect by himself."
Ashley stared at him for a moment, then snorted in laughter. "What, are you trying to get rid of me?" She laughed, then her smile slowly faded and her eyebrows narrowed in an awkward frown. "Oh."
"Look, I'm not trying to get rid of you." Norman felt exasperation rise in his chest. "I just need a clear head working in this case, and I'm not really used to working with other people."
"No, it's okay." Ashley ran her thumb over her lip. "I mean, I understand I can be kind of… strange sometimes." Norman watched her as she scratched a spot near her mouth, her eyes glazed over. She looked at him and smiled lightly. "Well, I'll give you a call if we find anything, and..." She gave a small wave. "...good luck."
Norman stood still as she disappeared through the sliding glass doors. Though he couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed, a growing relief eased his mind. There were several reasons why he worked alone. People like Blake were definitely one of them. It was easy to tell himself that he simply didn't like to be around other people, but if he were truthful, the ARI and the triptocaine were always on the back of his mind.
Norman glanced up at the clock. Blake was gone, Ashley was after him, and the clock was ticking. He turned and headed through the cubicles. He already had his glasses on and was fitting the glove before he was even halfway to his office. The office door opened into a black abyss, and Norman stepped into the darkness with the canopy of bioluminescence dancing above him. The door slammed shut behind him, fading away into the darkness.
He moved quickly to the desk in the spotlight, and a huge gray flipper drifted inches over his head. Norman ducked underneath it. "Look, it's not my fault you're fictional and you can't eat," he muttered. The monster groaned in complaint as Norman slid into his seat.
Pressing his fingers together, he formed a square in front of him. "Ethan Mars," he said. "Philadelphia, Pennsylvania." He drew his hands apart and a list of names scrolled downwards, ticking with every selection. It slowed as it neared the bottom, and a bar flashed. The bar expanded, revealing the image of a dark haired man with slanted eyebrows. White text trickled next to the image, displaying a quick summary.
"Ethan Mars, September fifth, 1973…" Norman mumbled as he scanned the summary. "... architect, Grace Mars, Shaun Mars, Jason…" He leaned forward in his chair and rested his chin on his fist. "Son killed in a car accident in 2009. Ethan Mars in a coma for six months, separated…" He flicked his finger upward to scroll the text as he read further down the lines. "Clinical depression, no known health conditions, five foot eleven, brown hair, blue eyes, Crown Victoria, Verizon Wireless." He leaned back in his chair. "This is the Origami Killer?"
He stared at the summary for a moment, then leaned forward and pulled down the scroll of paper with his left hand. He touched his little finger and thumb to the two screens, highlighting sections of the summary with his gloved hand. His temples tingled and his eye began to throb as white lines criss-crossed between the profile and the summary. They flashed red as they connected, drawing new white lines where the red ones failed. As they crossed, Norman shook his head in frustration. "There's no way this is him." He flicked his hand sideways and the profile zoomed away. "Shit, Blake's got the wrong guy."
Norman pulled off his glasses and the black ocean vanished. As much as he never wanted to speak to him again, he couldn't just sit idly by while Blake abused another innocent man. He held up his cell phone and punched in Blake's number, sighing through clenched teeth as the phone buzzed. There was a click, and Blake's recorded voice echoed through the speaker.
"You've reached Lieutenant Carter Blake of the Philadelphia police department. Leave a message."
"Blake." Norman bent over his desk as he spoke into the phone. "Ethan Mars is not the Origami Killer. His profile is nowhere near the same as the killer's. So do the man a favor and try not to beat him into another coma." He cancelled the call and tossed the phone so that it clattered across his desk.
Norman slumped against the arm of his chair and put his forehead in his hand. It was probably already too late. Blake was most likely halfway back to the station with a half-dead father of a kidnapped son. Norman ran his hand down his face and sighed. They were nowhere near to finding the Origami Killer, and it was already afternoon of the first day. If he didn't start making progress soon, he'd have to put in a call to Washington and investigate the ninth victim of the Origami Killer.
A streak of anger coursed through him. This would be a hell of a lot simpler if Blake would just cooperate, or at least conduct the search within legal bounds. They already wasted two hours because Blake wanted to beat the truth out of Nathaniel, and now he was off on another fruitless case of abuse. If Norman could put anything right, he could at least hit Blake where it hurt.
He peeled off his glove and snatched his glasses off the desk. Captain Perry didn't respect Norman, but there was no way he could ignore police brutality.
As Norman pushed away from the desk, a line of red suddenly caught his attention. He paused, studying a small red smudge on the dusty desk. The familiar cloud of dread fell over him. It couldn't be…
Norman looked down at his hand, which was stained with blood. His heart hammered, and he quickly dabbed his upper lip, bringing back fresh blood on his fingers.
"Fuck…" He stood up quickly, and the room spun around him. He groped for stability on the desk, but he fell sideways as if he were pulled by the shoulders. A sharp cry burst from him as he hit the floor, scattering papers from a nearby dusty stack. The room faded in and out of focus, and Norman felt his limbs tingle. He couldn't afford this. Not now. There wasn't enough time.
The triptocaine. He had to take it. Norman rolled onto his side, struggling to lift his hand into his pocket, but his arms felt about thirty pounds too heavy. With all his strength, he dragged his arm up and fumbled into his pocket. He was losing control. The room grew dark around him, and Norman was suddenly plunged into blackness. Panic racked his nerves. Biting his lip, he closed his fist and brought his hand up to his face.
Something clinked next to him, and a pit of despair flooded through him as he heard the glass vial roll across the dirty floor. The triptocaine… there was no way he'd find it now, let alone have enough motor control to open the tab and inhale it. Norman fell back and stared up at the black ceiling. The pins and needles slowly crept up his arms and legs, taking over his whole body. This was it. He'd really lost it this time.
The floor tipped slowly back and forth underneath him as if he were on a ship at sea. He closed his eyes and swallowed. There was no point in fighting it now. It wouldn't be too long, and there was still a chance that no one would find him before he woke up. He gave a mental laugh as his thoughts shrank away.
It'd definitely make Blake's day to see him right now.