The station was starting to feel like home, especially because it was nearly empty of officers. Norman stepped through the sliding glass doors, pausing to pull the soaked leather jacket from his shoulders. A spray of water hit him, and he turned, raising a hand to his face as Ashley shook the water from her hair. She sighed heavily and looked sideways at him, her hair plastered to her face.
"I'm really starting to hate being wet," she said.
"Well, at least you get to stay inside," said Norman. He shook his leather jacket so that the floor was now a water puddle.
"Wait, you're leaving?" said Ashley, wringing the water from her ponytail.
"I've got about fifty buildings to scout," said Norman. He felt a weight fall on his shoulders as he remembered how hopeless the task seemed. "One of them has to be where the killer is keeping Shaun Mars."
"You're going to check each location one by one?" Ashley stared sideways at him, hands on her hips. "What about the killer's car?"
It took Norman a moment to switch his mind back to the original plan. Identifying the killer's car. Would he even have time now? He looked at Ashley, apprehension in his chest. "The traffic surveillance…"
Ashley nodded. "Didn't you say you needed authorization to view it?" Before Norman could answer, she moved toward the nearest empty cubicle. He sighed as he moved after her. He'd never seen anyone so eager to do anything, even if it was solving a crime. The keys tapped loudly as Ashley worked, bent over the computer without sitting in the chair. Norman ran a hand over his face.
"Why do you want to help me, Ashley?" He felt a nervous jolt as she paused. She stood up quickly, looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes.
"You're asking me this now?" she said. Norman struggled to speak, frozen solid by the look on her face. Then she shrugged her shoulders and bent towards the computer again. "The way I see it, I have three choices. I can tackle this on my own which is a guaranteed failure. Or I can follow Blake and arrest some innocent man who will probably be beaten to death before he can even fake a confession. Or─" She tapped the keyboard and stood up, facing him. "─I can help the only person who's got the first actual lead in three years, even if he is an antisocial jerk." She nodded to the computer and the corner of her mouth rose. "Try it now."
The feeling came back to his limbs as Norman looked down at the computer. He leaned forward, and closed the tab with the mouse. "Not with this." He stood up straight, pulling the ARI from his pocket. He felt Ashley's eyes on him as he fitted the glove onto his hand. Throwing a glance to her, he moved towards his office and footsteps behind him told him she was following him.
He opened the door and stepped into the small space. Ashley closed the door as he sat at his desk.
"Do you… need me to stand somewhere specific?" said Ashley.
"Just stay close to my desk." Norman fitted the glasses over his eyes, and the environment turned dark as the endless black ocean surrounded him. "Wouldn't want Nessie to eat you."
"What will eat me?" There was a scramble as he guessed Ashley was spinning around. He smiled guiltily.
"Nothing." He formed a square with his hands. "Full Throttle Auto Expo. September 7, 2010. 1:27 P.M." The ethereal television screens appeared as he moved his hands away, and this time a video appeared on each one from different angles. He tilted his head as he examined each one. There was a video of the entrance with different cars filing in and out, one of the street outside the expo with vehicles whizzing by, and several others at different angles around the car show. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands together in front of his mouth.
"What do you see?" said Ashley. It was strange to hear her voice yet not be able to see her.
"Nothing yet." Norman watched the cars file out of the expo on the first screen. "At this point I'm looking for a man with a kid, or an old sedan." He pressed a hand to the screen, and it enlarged over the others. "The killer would have left almost immediately to avoid suspicion. And he would have come out at either of these locations." He moved the screen to the side, enlarging a second screen revealing another entrance to the expo.
"Have you─" Ashley fell silent. Norman adjusted the screens in front of him.
"Have I what?" he asked. Ashley made a noise and he felt the desk shift which he guessed she was leaning against.
"Have you ever considered becoming a mime." It was a statement, not a question. Norman turned his head in her direction. There was a slight smack. "I'm sorry, I'll just shut up."
He shook his head slowly. The videos in front of him were playing in ten minute loops. For the moment, all he noticed were high-dollar vehicles lining in and out of the car expo. This was actually very fortunate. An old sedan would stand out against the valuable cars. Norman just hoped the killer had taken one of these two entrances, and not a back entrance that the surveillance had missed.
"Do you eat?"
Norman looked sideways at the empty space next to him. "Do I eat?" he repeated.
"I just… I mean I never see you eat," said Ashley. "It might help. You know, with the um… withdrawal." They were silent for a moment. Norman felt a slight humor over his confusion. This seemed to be what they were best at. Awkward silences.
The desk moved again. "I'm just gonna go see what I can find." Her voice moved further away. "Don't… just don't pass out or anything." The door opened and closed.
Norman rested his head back in his hands as he stared at the cars. He was glad Ashley was speaking to him again, but that didn't make her any easier to understand. She could say some of the most powerful things, and two minutes later barely be able to talk at all. None of the other officers seemed to even acknowledge her existence, probably because they had all given up on her as Norman had the day before. He felt a deep regret burn in his throat. That might have been why she reacted the way she did toward his outburst. Just another cop unable to deal with her infectious, clueless personality.
He cupped his hands, creating an ethereal baseball. It rolled back and forth on the desk between his hands. So far, there was nothing but shiny, expensive cars in the cameras with the occasional family vehicle filing in between. The family cars looked well taken care of, not the overused sedan that he was looking for. He sighed as he rolled the ball from one hand to the other. It wasn't out of the question that the killer was driving a brand new car, and had only slacked off on the tires. Or perhaps he drove his car over rough terrain frequently, wearing the tires down. The more he doubted, the heavier his shoulders seemed to become. If he needed to, he'd analyze each and every vehicle and their tires until his nose bled.
He glanced up at the cars, trying to guess the brands of the vehicles. New cars these days looked nothing like their standard counterparts. The Ford Mustang looked exactly like a Chevrolet Camaro, except it had grill-like tail lights. Why would someone choose a Mustang over a Camaro then, if they were practically identical? A shiny Corvette drove by, rain spilling over the windshield. Now that's a car that was unique. Even Ashley would be able to identify that. Norman gave himself a mental pinch. She was right. He really was an antisocial jerk. The screen was empty for a moment, and Norman rolled the ball between his fingers. He wondered what she was bringing him anyway. He glanced up at the screen, and the ball rolled past his hand over the side of the desk, vanishing into the floor.
The left screen paused as he touched his gloved finger to it. He bolted forward in his chair, his heart pounding. This had to be it. The timing was right. The location was right. An old vehicle was frozen in the middle of the screen as it drove through the exit.
Norman pressed his left hand to the screen, drawing his gloved finger outwards. A text box appeared with a list of information. 1983 blue Chevrolet Malibu. Plate I.D BAK967. Registration inconclusive. Norman felt a rush of excitement as well as apprehension. The plates weren't registered. It was most likely a stolen vehicle. And a stolen old sedan was most definitely the killer's car.
He touched his gloved thumb and index finger to the paused video, drawing his fingers apart so the image zoomed close to the windshield. It was no use. The rain obscured the view inside the car. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. Stolen car, false plates, and no view of the driver. He waved his hand, throwing the screens into the darkness. It wasn't over yet.
He touched the details of the car. "Surveillance." He spread his hands apart, creating a network of new televisions. He gazed at them all. Each video was a rainy day. And each was conveniently obscured. Determination racked Norman's nerves. "Sort by date and time," he said. The videos reorganized themselves, and Norman pressed his left hand against the first one. "Geoanalysis," he said. The ocean vanished around him, and he was once again hovering in the blue stratosphere of the Earth. He stood up as the ground zoomed up beneath him, coming to a stop over the city of Philadelphia. A red marker pinpointed the location of the camera which captured the footage of the car. Norman kneeled, running his finger against it. The street was on the outskirts of the city, near an old scrapyard. He touched the location with his gloved fingers, and a text box rose in front of him. "Auto Salvage and Repair." Norman felt his mouth spread in an involuntary smile. This was it.
"Oh god… Norman!" Something bumped into him, and he felt pressure underneath his arm. Norman wrenched his glasses off his face and saw that Ashley was pulling him up by the arm.
"Ashley, I'm fine." He stood up, coming level with her wide-eyed face. "I figured it out."
She sighed and let go of his arm. "Christ, I thought you were passing out again." She ran a trembling thumb across her lip. "What did you figure out?"
"The killer's car," said Norman, removing his glove. "It's a 1983 Chevrolet Malibu. Stolen. And I know where to find out who bought the car." He stuffed the glove and the glasses into his pocket. "It's on the edge of town. I doubt they're going to be friendly, so let's… let's…"
The room spun slowly. Norman pressed a hand to his head, stepping backward to regain his balance. He pinched his eyes shut and opened them again. His limbs weren't tingling, but he still felt as though he were on a ship at sea.
He was pulled to the side as Ashley moved him towards the chair. Shakily, he sat down, resting his arms on the surface and leaning forward to press his forehead onto the desk. A terrifying thought dashed through his mind. He wasn't going to take the triptocaine. Not in front of her.
He felt Ashley grip his arm. "I'm right here," she said, and Norman found himself hanging on to her voice. "I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere."
Norman sat up, pressing his hands to his face. He pulled his hands away and gazed at them. There was no blood. Relief filled him as the room slowly began to mold itself into its proper dimensions. He looked at Ashley who was knelt next to him, her wide eyes practically burning through his.
"God, you're pale," she said. She pushed a styrofoam cup across the desk towards him. "Here, drink this. I figured it's the only thing you would have."
Norman picked up the cup which was pleasantly warm in his hands. As he brought it under his nose, the salty smell of the soup rose to meet him. He drank the savoury liquid and felt his core heat up slowly. It was a different warmth from the triptocaine, but somehow it gave him more satisfaction. He set the half empty cup on the table as he breathed deeply, letting the meager nourishment deliver energy to him. It took him a moment to realize Ashley was gazing at him as if wanting to ask a question. He looked at the cup, then handed it to her.
She took the cup from him and closed her eyes as she raised it to her mouth. The sound of her breath echoed in the styrofoam, and she leaned forward, setting the now empty cup onto the table.
Norman shook his head as he rested his elbows on the desk, rubbing his eyes. "This is going to kill us both."
"Yeah." Ashley sighed next to him. "They say even the styrofoam that it comes in will give you cancer."
He was still for a moment. It was hard to tell if she was being serious or not. He looked sideways at her as she spun the empty cup idly on the table. It was impossible to hold it in any longer. "Have you always been like this?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Ashley stopped spinning the cup. Her eyes locked on his, lit in confusion. "In a sitting position?"
He caught his forehead in his hands. "Strange, I mean." A nervous tremor went through him, and he softened his voice. "You said it yourself. You're strange sometimes."
For a moment, Ashley simply gazed at him. He worried he might have opened the old wound between them, but then she turned her attention back to the cup.
"Well, ever since Cas─" Her eyes closed for a second, and she opened them slowly. "Since my partner died, I haven't been quite the same I guess." The cup slipped from her hand and rolled across the desk. "Not that I was Sherlock Holmes before, but since he's been gone, I feel like I just don't… have a hold on things." Pain seemed to shine in her eyes, and Norman recognized the expression he'd seen in the car with her. He stared at the surface of the desk.
"You really loved him, didn't you?" he said.
Ashley moved next to him. Her mouth opened as if to say something, then she bit her lip, gazing away from him. Norman twisted in his seat.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he said quickly. He breathed an exasperated sigh. He really couldn't tell the difference between being open and being offensive. Most likely, he was both at the same time. Once again, he was calling her strange when he had no right to say anything at all.
Ashley shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. She looked up at him, her clueless expression shining behind her smile. "Need me to drive?"
It took a moment for Norman's nerves to settle. He fumbled with the ARI in his pocket. "You don't think I can drive? I feel fine." He stood up, waiting for the room to morph again, but the walls were rigid and he held his ground. An idea came to him, and he searched his pockets. "Plus, I want you to look at this." He handed her Roman's cell phone.
She stared at it for a moment. "Yep, it's a cell phone alright."
Norman sighed as he moved to the door, grabbing his dry leather coat from the wall. "It's not mine." He opened the door and she walked past him, turning the phone over in her hands. "I got it from a father of one of the victims. The killer gave it to him."
Ashley turned to him, a look of surprise in her eyes. "The killer? How do you know?"
Norman motioned to the phone as they headed towards the sliding glass doors. "Just turn it on." He began to work his arm into one of the jacket sleeves, then paused, watching Ashley as she stood by the doors with the phone held in front of her face. She rubbed her arm as she analyzed the phone, and tapped one foot on the ground. With a heavy sigh, Norman pulled his arm free of the jacket, then moved towards her, draping the jacket around her shoulders. She held it closed against her chest with one hand, throwing him a thankful glance.
They stepped out into the rain, and Norman's suit immediately became soaked and stuck to his skin. But for the first time since he arrived in Philadelphia, he didn't care.