"Oh god… oh god oh god, don't do this... come on! Wake up!"
There was a sharp crack, and Norman gasped as his cheek stung like fire. Groggily his senses came back to him, and he held the side of his face.
It took him a moment to realize someone was shaking him. His head felt like it was about to burst at his temples, and his body ached as if he'd fallen down a flight of stairs. He waved a hand and felt it hit something.
"I'm alright. I'm alright." He pushed off the floor. Someone was clutching his hand, and as his vision focused, Ashley's worried face came into view. She wiped his cheek with her thumb.
"Jesus, Norman," she said, her voice trembling. "You're covered in blood…"
Despite his foggy mind, Norman forced himself to think of something fast. He shrugged his shoulders weakly. "I guess I must've fallen asleep at my desk. Maybe hit my head on the way down." He rubbed his cheek. "Did you slap me?"
Ashley's face turned white, and her wide eyes froze for a moment. "I thought you were dead!" she said quickly. "I've been trying to call you for over an hour and I came into your office and found you flat on the floor with blood all over your face─ I didn't know what to do." She sat back and drew her knees up, locking her arms around them. "You scared the shit out of me, Norman."
He gave his head a shake as his thoughts began to connect. At least it was Ashley and not Blake that had found him. He didn't want to imagine what would have happened if they had seen him in full withdrawal. With a slight pang of worry, Norman cast his eyes around the floor for the blue vial. It was nowhere to be seen, and he guessed it had rolled underneath one of the piles of newspapers.
He looked at Ashley who was still watching him intently, pressing her thumb to her bottom lip so that her lip turned pale. "Where's Blake?" he asked. "Did he arrest Ethan Mars?"
Ashley shook her head. "He wasn't anywhere in his house. Blake checked pretty thoroughly." She dropped her hand against her knee. "But we got a call from the highway patrol. Sheriff said he spotted a red Pontiac Sentra going against traffic on the freeway. They chased it for about five miles before it went off the freeway and flipped, but the police said they saw a man who looked a lot like Ethan Mars leave the scene."
Norman was silent for a moment as he absorbed the information. "He was driving against traffic on the freeway?" He pushed himself onto his feet and Ashley stood with him, holding onto his arm to steady him. "Where's the car now?"
"In about a million pieces." She bit her lip. "It must have been rigged with explosives. The whole thing exploded about a minute after it flipped."
As shocking as the story was, a swell of frustration rose in him. If the car was destroyed, there'd be no evidence left to analyze with the ARI. Even so, he felt strangely relieved. Odd behavior was significant behavior, and for the first time since the start of the investigation, Norman had something to follow.
"I need to talk to Blake." He moved to the door, but his arm was pulled as Ashley held him back.
"Looking like that?" She moved in front of him, her eyebrows narrowed in worry. "Norman, have you seen your face?"
He scratched his upper lip, and several flakes of dried blood floated to the floor. "Well, keep an eye on him at least," he said. "Just in case he decides to leave." He opened the door and stepped quickly to the side, heading for the restroom.
Thankfully there was no one inside, and Norman rested both hands against the sink as he leaned over it. Judging by how his skin itched and Ashley's reaction, his face was probably horrific. He raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror. He had to contain a small laugh. It wasn't that bad. The inside of his right eye had darkened to a deep purple with a ring of green, and a river of dark blood split apart at his nose, cascading down his cheek and creating droplets on his neck. Somehow it had missed his suit, though his suit still looked just as beaten and drab as before.
Norman turned the tap, and splashed cold water on his face, turning the sink a bright pink. He scrubbed his skin hard and glanced up in the mirror to be sure he hadn't missed any wayward rivers of blood. There was nothing he could do about his black eye, but at least he didn't look like he'd been recently mugged.
He stepped back into the lobby and headed straight for Blake's desk. Over the cubicles, he spotted Blake hunched over his desk, phone pressed to his ear. The tension rose in Norman's chest. The lobby seemed to provide exposure to Blake's aggressive behavior, but Norman felt nervous all the same.
"... just keep your eye out for it." Blake's voice rose over the office noise. "If you see him anywhere or you see his car, call me immediately." Norman approached as Blake set down the phone.
"Did you get my message?" said Norman. Blake turned slowly and glared at Norman with a tense jaw.
"What message?" said Blake.
Norman sighed and dropped his shoulders. "I don't think Ethan Mars is the Origami Killer. His psychological profile doesn't match─"
"Does it look…" Blake stepped closer, his eyes lit with energy. "... like I give a shit what you think?" Norman forced himself to stand level with Blake but felt his legs grow weak. "Ethan Mars kidnapped and drowned eight kids because he's biffed over the death of his son," Blake continued. "And now he's going to kill his other son. And I'm gonna stop him. So why don't you skip back to your little office," Blake twitched his fingers in the direction of Norman's office, "and leave me the fuck alone."
The sides of Norman's vision turned red as he felt his face flush. Without another word, Norman turned and headed to the captain's office. This had gone far enough. If Blake wanted a war, he was going to get it.
Norman burst into Captain Perry's office without knocking. Perry looked up at him from his desk, tilting his phone sideways with narrowed eyes. He stammered as he spoke into his phone.
"Yes, yes I'll make sure I call them today. Listen, I'll talk to you soon." Perry dropped the phone on the receiver. "Jayden, what are you─"
"Are you aware of Lieutenant Blake's complete disregard for police protocol," Norman stepped toward the desk, his face heating up, "and blatant police brutality?"
Perry sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Norman pointed to the lobby. "He's already tried to strangle an innocent man in the interrogation room, and now he's on a useless hunt because he believes the father of Shaun Mars is the Origami Killer."
"Jayden, I told you Lieutenant Blake's methods were a bit extreme," said Perry, leaning forward and looking Norman in the eye. "And I put you two together because I wanted you to sort out your differences."
A flash of fury streaked through Norman's body. He clenched the back of the chair in front of him. "With all due respect, captain," said Norman, struggling to keep his voice under control. "This has nothing to do with my opinion of Lieutenant Blake. This is strictly a matter of police code violation and Blake's disregard for not only the law, but the lives of innocent people."
"The lives of innocent people?" Perry tilted his head. "I'm sorry Jayden, but I put the lieutenant on this case in particular because of his dedication to saving lives. He's had the most effective methods so far, and I trust in his ability to get this case solved."
Norman was dumbstruck. He shifted his weight, struggling to organize his thoughts. "I was sent here because your department needed help in finding the Origami Killer. Since I arrived, Blake's shown nothing but contempt and doesn't listen to anything I say. How the hell am I supposed to work with that?"
Perry folded his hands together. "Well, if you remember, Agent Jayden." A pit of despair filled Norman's chest. "We didn't ask for the FBI's help in this case. You were sent here by Washington to help us. And if you want to help us then it's in your best interest to follow Lieutenant Blake and aid him in whatever way he thinks will solve the case."
A sharp breath escaped Norman's lungs, and he ran a furious hand through his hair. "Are you telling me to beat the shit out of suspects if that's what Blake wants?"
For a moment, Perry simply stared at him. Then he picked up a file and flipped through it. "I'm telling you if you want to help solve this case, you're going to have to work with us, not against us." He glanced up at Norman. "That's all I have to say about this."
Norman was frozen on the spot, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was one thing to suspect the department of its disdain towards him, but to actually see it right in front of him…
He turned and marched to the door. He was going to have to solve this on his own. And now he wasn't just competing against the death of Shaun Mars, but against Blake as well. He launched the door open, mind racing with rage.
"Norman─" A pair of hands bumped into his chest, and Norman found himself nose-to-nose with Ashley's clueless face. A pang of shock mingled with his rage, and he stopped as Ashley ran a thumb over her lip, stepping backward. "Sorry…" She pointed over her shoulder. "Blake just left."
A jet of frustration bolted through him at the mention of Blake. Norman moved out of the captain's office, letting the door close behind him. "Did he say where he was going?"
"I heard him mention on the phone that he was going on patrol to look for Ethan Mars' car." Ashley walked with him. "He's got practically the whole department looking for him. My car's out front. I'm gonna go after him and give you a call if anything happens."
Norman stopped in the middle of the lobby. He put his forehead in his hand. There was no point. Blake had his own schedule, and Norman was going to have to come up with a new one. If he was going to make any headway, he'd have to do what he did best.
He put his hand in his pocket, fumbling with the glasses. Ashley had already seen him passed out. There was no way he was going to let anyone see his full-blown withdrawal. But if he was going to find any clues about the actual killer, he'd need to go in deep. Deeper than he'd ever gone before. He'd have to make sure the triptocaine was easily accessible this time. And he'd also have to make sure no one would interrupt him, no matter what.
Norman looked at Ashley who was still watching him expectantly. He sighed. "Look, Ashley…"
Ashley's already worried eyes widened. "Oh shit," she said, laughing lightly. "Look Ashley."
"Look. I know you want to help me with this, but─" He gazed away from her and scratched the back of his head. "I work alone. That's all there is to it." The sympathy faded from his voice as he spoke bluntly. "I have a set of methods that I use to work on cases, and it means I don't really have time to involve other people. And frankly… you're just going to slow me down."
Ashley stared at him blankly. "Chasing after Blake and helping you off the floor after you passed out is slowing you down?"
Norman smacked his forehead. This was getting harder by the second. "Ashley…" He tensed his hands in front of him, searching for the right words. "You're in my way. I just… I don't understand you. It's like you don't have a clue. How you manage to set one foot in front of the other without falling on your face is a complete mystery to me." He sighed as Ashley's gaze lowered. "I mean, from what I've seen in the last several hours, it doesn't surprise me at all that the Origami Killer is so damn successful. This whole─" Norman motioned around him towards the cubicles, "─fucking department is just one giant joke. And I don't have the patience for it anymore."
It seemed straightforward in his head, but every word weighed him down. And Ashley's expression didn't make things easier. She pursed her lips and glanced around as if looking for something clever to say. The sounds of the office seemed to rise to a roar, and the seconds seemed like ages.
"Well, I… um…" Ashley's clueless expression danced across her face, mingled in frustration. "I understand. I mean, I don't understand─" She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Then she looked at Norman with the most forced serious expression Norman had seen so far. "But I hear you."
Norman didn't think his stress could get any higher. Though a weight was off his shoulders for venting steam, he hadn't meant to be so blunt. He made to touch her shoulder, but froze at the last second, dropping his arm to his side. There was no point in drawing it out. Without a glance, he moved through the cubicles, leaving Ashley standing alone.
What's done was done. Norman pushed his guilty thoughts from his mind, forcing his attention on the task at hand. He opened the door to his office and stepped through, closing the door behind him. A surge of frustration rose in him, and he stepped sideways to the nearest stack of boxes, pushing it in front of the door for good measure.
This time he had to be prepared. Norman dug in his pocket for a blue vial, and set it in the center of the desk before sitting down. Then he flexed the glove onto his hand and slipped the glasses on, plunging back into the cavernous sea.
"Alright." He tapped the surface of the desk. "It's just you and me now, Nessie." The desk rumbled as a low moan echoed above him.
Norman pulled up the file, splaying the pages so that they fanned in a circle. Clearly he was missing something. If Ethan Mars wasn't the Origami Killer, then there had to be a reason for his erratic behavior. Norman flicked through the pages and pulled free the summary of Ethan Mars. He pressed his left hand against the page, then drew a line outwards with his gloved hand, creating a separate screen. His temples buzzed, and Norman gave his head a shake. He hadn't even gotten started yet.
He pulled his gloved hand further to the right, and a series of images and text appeared, flicking quickly as if he were watching a video sped up. The tension was taught, like an invisible line between his hands. He pulled harder, increasing the speed of images and information, absorbing as much as he could. Family pictures, a younger Ethan holding his newborn son, his wife and sons in a kiddy pool, a young boy playing tug of war with a toddler, Ethan grinning as he held his laughing boys under each arm…
Then the images changed entirely. A hospital bed where Ethan lay asleep, a crowd in black on a hill of tombstones, Ethan leaving the hospital with a weak smile, holding his younger son against his chest, a young boy sitting alone in a park, Ethan in a dingy apartment stacked with moving boxes…
Norman dropped his hands, breathing heavily as his head throbbed. Nothing. There was nothing in the images or history that spoke "killer." One extremely sad man, maybe, but not serial killer. There had to be an obvious clue somewhere. But where?
He flicked his gloved hand, sending away the pictures, and tossed Ethan's page back into the file which spun idly. There had to be a connection among all these killings. Something all the dead children had in common. Norman ticked his gloved finger at different pages of the file, dropping down each child's page side-by-side on the desk in front of him. Why would the killer choose these boys in particular?
Norman rested his cheek against his fist as he moved the pages around. There had to be something they shared in common. They were all boys. All roughly the same age. Their ethnicities were different. Including Shaun Mars, four of the boys were white, two were hispanic, one was asian, and two were African American. Norman scattered the papers and he analyzed each one. They were taken from families of various incomes. They all had siblings, and all had a mother and father that were present. No signs of obvious abuse or neglect, though some parents were divorced and no longer speaking.
Norman spun the file in casual circles as he flicked through each page. Shaun Mars was completely inconspicuous, just like the rest of the victims. That was something they had in common. They were all average. Norman sighed heavily at the thought. Completely average kids from average homes killed by an invisible murderer who drove an average car and had an average shoe size. The only noticeable detail so far was Ethan's reckless driving.
Perhaps all the fathers had a history of insanity. Norman pressed his hand to each page, studying the parents. Average wives, average husbands. Every mother had been questioned so far, with little to no information given. The fathers on the other hand…
Norman leaned forward, lining the pages in front of him. The first father hadn't been located. He was considered estranged from the family. The second father was declared missing several days after his son was kidnapped, presumed AWOL in response to the Origami Killings. The third father was found dead in his study via gunshot to the head. Norman's heart quickened as he flicked through each one. The fourth father had vanished two days after his son was kidnapped. The fifth father appeared to have gone insane soon after the body of his son was found. The sixth father: missing. Seventh father: dead. The eighth father had been declared missing the day before.
Norman fell back into his chair, a haunting realization spreading through him. All the fathers, including Ethan Mars, had either disappeared or worse after their sons were kidnapped.
There was still one father left. Norman flicked the page of the fifth father so that it hovered in front of him. Thomas Roman, thirty-six. Suffering from paranoid schizophrenia despite no prior history of mental illness. He still lived at home alone, divorced from his wife of twelve years. Norman copied Roman's address into the ARI. Finally, he had something to go on.
He took a deep breath before he removed the glasses. The black sea melted away, and Norman stared at the wall ahead, clenching his fists.
A slight tremor started in his hands, and then the tingling began. Norman tensed his muscles. A wave of panic floated above him, and he felt his heart began to race. This was going to be huge.
He lunged forward, grasping the vial in both hands. In an instant, he popped the lid and inhaled deeply, coughing as the powder coated his throat. His face instantly warmed up as if he'd plunged into a hot bath, and the warmth spread outwards to his limbs. The shaking stopped, his heart calmed, and his head cleared.
Norman paused over the empty vial, catching his breath. Twice in one day. He'd have to keep it at a minimum. It was going to kill him otherwise.
He forced himself shakily from his desk, and crammed the ARI into his pocket. He had to get a move on if he was going to find the Origami Killer before Blake. The sounds of the office drifted through the door as he leaned forward against it, regaining his composure. That had been a major withdrawal. There was a chance he'd have to take more triptocaine later if it got any worse.
He kicked aside the stack of newspapers before opening the door and stepped into the lobby. The station was emptying of officers now that it was the afternoon, and Norman also suspected most of the officers were out looking for Ethan Mars with Blake. At least that made his job a little easier. Norman walked through the cubicles to the front doors, pulling his car keys from his pocket. As the glass doors opened, he stopped suddenly, glancing around the lobby. A heavy shame weighed on his shoulders.
As much as he didn't want to, he knew he'd run into Ashley sooner or later. He'd never been as angry as he was that afternoon, and despite the truth in his rant, he regretted laying all his frustrations on her all at once. Still, life was easier when he didn't have an awkward companion following him around asking pointless questions and stating the obvious.
He clenched his keys around his fingers and left the lobby, a strange anxiety tugging at his nerves. She might be clueless and awkward… but that was the most attention he'd gotten from the opposite sex in years.