Chapter 2.4b
10:08am
The knock on the door came loud and clear, finishing almost as abruptly as it had began. Slowly and nervously crossing the bedroom, the young boy grabbed the door handle and blinked back any apprehension regarding what may lurk beyond. Twisting and turning, pulling the door inwards, the child's fears were unfounded as the face before him swooped to eye level and grinned broadly.
"Hey Andy!" Jason's wide smile causing his bead to part, exposing a sea of teeth. If anybody in this place could make Andy feel better without necessarily doing anything then this was the guy, his bald head flanked either side by a short, yet thick, main of dark hair. The stubble sweeping across his chin, his face perfectly offset by the larger than normal, round glasses.
"Hi." Andy smiled as Jason's face neared his.
"You ready?" Jason asked as he clapped the palms of his hands against his knees and motioned over his shoulder with his eyes, Andy nodding as he stepped through the heavy wooden door and pulled it closed behind him.
"I guess." Andy answered as the pair began to walk, the corridor ahead seeming to stretch infinitely into the distance. "What's happening again?"
"We're just gonna have a little talk. Maybe play a game of cards." Jason turned, almost walking backwards. "You like cards don't ya?"
Andy nodded, the nerves not subsiding completely, but a calming effect getting stronger every second.
"So how you sleep last night?" Jason asked returning to face forward. "From what I hear you've not had a decent night's sleep since you got here."
"I did okay." Andy replied, a ripple of laughter spreading from his lungs, forced back down his throat at the last second as he observed the tiny ponytail adorning the back of Jason's head. Walking faster to keep up with Jason, the two turned a corner only to be greeted by another corridor, this one also stretching on and on.
"Well that's good. You look better than you did last week any way." Jason's voice had an enthusiasm streaked throughout.
"I feel better." Andy smiled.
"You know if you wanna talk about it, I'm always here." Jason turned his head and addressed his waist high companion once more. "I mean, you know where my office is right?"
Andy nodded again.
"It's okay." He answered. "The less I talk about things, the better they seem to get. If that makes any sense..."
"That makes perfect sense Andy." Jason continued. "You talked about it with any of the other kids?"
"No!" Andy instantly shot back, Jason's words shot down in an instant.
"You know they may be able to help too. Maybe something they could relate to."
"I mentioned it once, and they didn't think I was telling the truth." Andy face dropped to the floor as he kept up with Jason.
"Well..." Jason sighed as he stopped and pulled open a door, his free arm sweeping across his waistline, gesturing for Andy to make his way through. "I guess that's to be expected. I mean, it was a heck of a story Andy."
"The last time I told any of the other kids about it, they started making fun of me and beating me up." Andy stopped as Jason made his way through the door, the wood slamming in the doorframe behind him.
"I see." Jason seemed lost for words as Andy's face twisted in confusion.
"After everything that's happened, I figure its best I keep my mouth shut."
"I understand Andy, seriously I do." They walked on, stopping after only a few yards as Jason yanked yet another door open and motioned Andy inside. Entering the room, Andy noticed the walls, as he always did, the greens, yellows, reds and browns leaping out at him as he pulled out a chair and sat at the small table. Toys were strewn across the room, bean bags in the corner to Andy's right as he took a seat. The pictures tacked to the walls had been there ever since Andy arrived, a stark reminder of some of the many faces to pass through Midtown Children's Crisis Centre. Grabbing the pack of cards sat neatly on the corner of the table, Andy picked them up and began to slowly shuffle them, waiting patiently as Jason closed the door and picked up a few stray toys, placing them back on the shelves beside the door. To Andy's left, he couldn't help notice the mirror taking up the majority of the wall. Probably the biggest mirror Andy had ever seen, and he was sure there must be a reason, but he'd be damned if he could understand why somebody would need a mirror so big as he stared at his reflection and shook his head, his hair flicking out evenly across his face, almost covering his eyes. Without saying a word, Jason took his seat and sat across the table from Andy and clasped his hands together.
"You gonna deal or should I?" He asked with a smile.
"I'll let you." Andy pushed the deck of cards towards Jason and sat back, watching intently as Jason began shuffling the pack, quickly distributing the cards evenly between the two of them. Picking up the cards, Andy cast his eyes across his hand, the various sea creatures, crustaceans and fish smiling back at him, some with names, others with their respective colours.
"So..." Jason began as he peeled a card from the top of the deck, now placed face down on the surface of the table, resting between the two of them. "I here you had a scare a couple of days back."
"What do you mean?" Andy asked as he too leaned over and took a card, his eyes moving rapidly from his hand to the solitary card before placing it face up beside the deck.
"That woman, the one that knocked on your door? Did you forget about that?" Jason asked, reaching for a card.
"No. I just tried not to remember it, if you get what I mean." Andy replied, his eyes concentrating on Jason's hands as they swapped once card for another.
"I get ya. What exactly was it that she said?" Jason enquired.
"She told me she was a friend of Chucky's and started asking me questions." He explained, the innocence of youth flashing in his eyes.
"Wow. Like what? What did she ask Andy?"
"She was asking what I knew about him and why he was after me. She started to get loud, like she was angry with me." Andy repied.
"You know, everything that happened was in the papers don't you?" Jason laid his cards down on the table. "It sounds to me like somebody just wanted to have a little bit of fun with you."
"That was somebody's idea of fun?" Andy seemed confused.
"There are some crazy people out there Andy." Jason whispered, his voice low, a caring tone throughout his words.
"Like my mom?" Andy asked.
"Well..." Jason seemed taken aback, words escaping him on this occasion as he stumbled to recover his composure. "I don't know. Do you think your mom's crazy?"
Andy shook his head vigorously, a strong 'no' if ever Jason had seen one.
"And why is that?" Jason probed deeper.
"Because she was telling the truth." Andy answered honestly.
"But how are you so sure Andy?" Jason kept digging. "What makes you so certain?"
"Because I saw everything." Andy's face sat innocently as his lips moved, emotion seeping through his every word as he spoke. "I saw him burn in the fireplace, then come out screaming."
"Then what?" Jason continued.
"Then after detective Norris was hurt, I went to get a first aid kit and noticed Chucky was gone."
"Really?" Jason exhaled sharply as his eyes widened in false surprise. "And where had he gone?"
"He was waiting round the corner." Andy's voice was low, Jason straining his ears to pick up his words. "He tripped me up and came after me with a knife."
"Wow. That must have been scary" Jason sat back and scratched his head, not the first time he'd heard this story, but the eeriness still making him feel just as cold with every time. "And after that? Can you remember what happened after that?"
"That's when I ran into the bedroom and he chased me. He was screaming and all kinds a things."
"And what was he screaming? Was it bad?"
"I'll say." Andy took a deep breath and composed himself. "He was screaming at my mom and detective Norris. Telling them to give me to him and he'd let them live."
"Did he end up getting into the bedroom?" Jason asked.
"Yeah." Andy nodded. "But my mom grabbed me and we ran into the hall. That's when she shot him."
"Oh yeah." Jason nodded in agreement. "I think I remember you telling me that before. Is that when she shot his head off?"
"Yeah." Andy's eyes fell back to his cards.
"Wow. You know what?" Jason grabbed Andy's wrist.
"What?" Andy asked.
"I don't think I'd have been as brave as you." Jason smiled. "But you know Andy... Stress is a powerful thing. It's an illness. Sometimes it can make you think you've seen things. That they're real."
"But it was real!" Andy's voice picked up a notch as Jason held his hands up in a surrendering motion.
"I'm sure it seemed real Andy." He quietly spoke. "But do you understand why people didn't believe you and your mom?"
"I guess so." Andy backed down. "I don't think I'd have believed somebody telling a story like that either."
"I mean, to you, it was probably real. Like everything was actually happening, but the human body is a weird and wonderful thing."
"How do you mean?" Andy asked curiously.
"Well..." Jason began. "I had this patient, at the place I used to work? She would be telling me she saw angels all day long. But whenever she told us, we couldn't see a thing. Now she wasn't a bad person, and she wasn't lying. She was just confused, that's all."
Andy stared at Jason as though trying to work something out.
"Do you see what I'm saying Andy?" He asked. "Sometimes, what seems real to somebody, isn't quite right. No matter how real it feels."
"I guess I see what you mean." Andy smiled as his eyes dropped back to his cards.
The pair sat in silence for the next minute as they each surveyed the cards in front of them, taking turns to peel from the deck, swapping with the cards in their hands before laying down their 'pairs', the battle to see who would emerge with the most pairs well underway as the silence filled the room, all the while something still troubling Jason as Andy sat in abject silence. Andy seemed in a better mood today, fresh after what he'd described as a good night's sleep, but one thing remained, troubling Jason as he sat and studied, deciding suddenly the direct approach would benefit both parties.
"Andy,"
His voice was quiet, but loud enough to catch Andy's attention.
"You still dreaming about Chucky?"
"Sometimes." Andy examined his cards once more, not wanting to get into this conversation again.
Unbeknownst to Andy, on the other side of the mirror taking up the majority of the wall to his left, stood Phil and Joanne Simpson, their ears pricked up as Grace finished relaying the story of Andy Barclay and his mother, their supposed brush with Charles Lee Ray, the notorious Lakeshore Strangler, Phil beginning to have doubts, all the while Joanne feeling a confidence, a tidal wave of emotions as the boy sat the other side of the glass sat and talked innocently with his carer.
In Joanne's mind, the decision was already made.
What was the worst that could happen?
11:34am
Rolling over for the second time that morning and curling her fists into balls, Tiffany rubbed her eyes vigorously before yanking the covers over her head. The sunlight beaming through the curtains served only to irritate the slight headache she had woken with, the road works raging outside the crumbling apartment block adding to the hammering sensation deep behind her eyes. Taking a deep breath and allowing her fingers to gently work their way over the soft fabric of the bed sheets, Tiffany had enough, throwing the covers to one side and sitting bolt upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing, allowing the transition into a long and refreshing stretch to come naturally as she yawned long and hard. Approaching the window, Tiffany noticed her reflection in the glass, her naked body slipping her mind as she still fought to get her bearings, her mind still spinning from the broken night of sleep. Grabbing her dress, she slowly slid the thin, black material up her legs and over her torso, the short, tight fitting dress barely covering her slender figure. Slipping the straps over her shoulders and reaching beneath her arm pit, Tiffany zipped the dress up and slipped on her heels, quickly grabbing her leather jacket from the back of the lone chair and heading to the bedroom door. Stepping into the hallway, Tiffany smiled to herself as she began to slowly walk, treading carefully, silence filling the apartment, just as she expected. The door to Gabriella's room still hung slightly ajar as she passed, creaking slightly as she gently nudged it with her open palm, the comatose figure of Gabriella now wrapped warmly beneath the covers of her bed as she lay on her side, an arm flopping over the side, the needle still half exposed as it protruded from its resting place, the shadows of Gabriella's bedroom hiding a million secrets, but none strong enough to mask the evidence of constant drug abuse, the wraps and burnt spoons littering every visible surface. Suddenly a worrying thought crossed Tiffany's mind, her body instinctively taking a step forward, the heel of her shoe striking the wooden floor with a loud 'click' as she began to panic. Suddenly she froze, her fears proving unfounded as Gabriella took a deep, sleepy breath, a sigh of relief escaping Tiffany's lungs as she closed her eyes and instantly felt stupid. Turning and taking small, gentle steps Tiffany made her way back to the hallway and hung a left, picking up the pace and reaching the front door to the apartment in seconds, checking the pocket of her jacket and pulling free a fist full of ten dollar bills. All at once, she swung the door open and emerged into the breezy, yet bright and cloudless day, the wind whipping at her legs as a tornado of leaves swirled to life on the street below, greens, browns and yellows of every shade howling around the street in an autumnal ballet as Tiffany quickly, and in as dignified manner as possible, descended the metal steps of the apartment block.
One destination in her mind.
Wrapping her leather jacket around her waist and burying her hands beneath her arms, Tiffany spun on the steps of Reed's Adult Theatre and surveyed the scene behind her. The streets were pretty deserted, except for maybe the odd car, or the odd working girl returning from a nights work on the other side of the city. The wind still whistling around her, Tiffany pulled her hand free and once more hammered on the huge wooden doors to the building, the muffled cries from inside growing louder and louder as every second passed, the bolts residing on the opposite side of the entrance sliding noisily open as the voice muttered and spat colourful language, the words causing Tiffany to once more face the door, her eyes widening in mild surprise. Suddenly, the left hand door shot inwards, the darkness within blinding as Tiffany strained her eyes, a lone figure appearing in the doorway, hunched over somewhat and supporting itself on what seemed to be a walking stick. Narrowing her eyes, Tiffany waited for them to adjust, the voice sounding familiar as it spoke, half amused, half shocked.
"Well, well, well." The gravelly voice coughed and spat, those were forty a day lungs or Tiffany was extremely mistaken. "Tiffany Valentine... Whatever did I do to deserve such company?"
"Hello Dominic." Tiffany replied, smirking as the figure took a step out into the sunlight, the short figure of Dominic Reed hunched over his walking aid, his bald head partially covered by the faintest of comb overs as he looked into Tiffany's face and smiled, uneven teeth stained with years of alcohol and nicotine abuse.
"To what do I owe the pleasure my dear?" Dominic asked as he too surveyed the empty streets surrounding his business.
"Aren't you at least going to invite me in?" Tiffany asked as she lifted a solitary foot and tilted her head, Dominic never one to resist a damsel in distress. Flicking his head and turning to head back inside, Dominic began to creep slowly back into the darkness from which he had just seconds since appeared, offering a grunt as he beckoned Tiffany to follow him.
"So tell me Tiffany." Dominic began. "Is this business or pleasure?"
"I like to think a little of both." Tiffany answered wryly.
"Is that so?" Dominic asked as he stopped, allowing Tiffany to cross the threshold, entering the foyer of the theatre before swinging the heavy door closed and sliding the middle bolt back across and into its respective housing.
"You seem surprised." Tiffany laughed. "Business can be pleasure can't it?"
"You don't have to tell me that." Dominic laughed back, his eyes floating over every inch of Tiffany's exposed skin, his mouth watering. "Let me guess. You want me to get you on the big screen. Right here, nothing tacky, real top notch stuff."
"That's not exactly what I had in mind." Tiffany folded her arms across her chest.
"Don't think of it as degrading." Dominic began to protest. "Just because it's porn, doesn't mean it had to be degrading."
"Well, thank you all the same, but like I said, not quite what I had in mind." Tiffany allowed her eyes to glance around the foyer as Dominic walked past, his office door wide open in the corner of the grand entrance.
"Pity Tiffany." He waved an arm as she followed him. "Because you and me could make some serious money."
"I'll survive. But thanks anyway." Tiffany repeated herself. "It's nice to know I have options."
Entering the office, Dominic crossed the floor and took a seat behind his desk, the huge, intricately carved piece of oak taking pride of place as he sat in the seat hidden away behind it and motioned for Tiffany to sit, which she did, crossing her legs and wrapping her hands around her knees.
"So tell me then my dear." Dominic quietly spoke. "To what may the matter be, in which you require the assistance of myself?"
Tiffany's expression never altered as her brain worked to unscramble the code, giving up seconds later as her mouth moved involuntary.
"What?" She asked.
"What is it you require?" Dominic snapped, his voice louder and straight to the point. "I am a very, busy man."
"I need you to fix me up." Tiffany shot straight back, Dominic's eyes widening as he lifted the packet of cigarettes from the table and set about removing one, placing it between his blistered lips and sucking the acrid mixture back as he held the naked flame of his lighter to the tip.
"I see." He eventually answered, his breath thick with the smell of smoke. "And what makes you so sure I can be of assistance?"
"Never had any trouble before." Tiffany hissed.
"That was years ago." Dominic calmly replied. "It's been a long time Tiffany. People change."
"Not everybody." Tiffany sat back in the chair, her eyes falling on the walking stick now propped beside the huge oak desk. Dominic's eyes followed, also coming to rest on the stick, as both he and Tiffany returned their gaze to each other, Tiffany smiling as Dominic's face took on a painful expression, his hand slowly making its way to his knee, the scar beneath his trousers causing a tremendous pain to flood his leg.
"How's the leg these days?" Tiffany asked.
"Hurts now and then." Dominic replied, emotion missing from his words as Tiffany sat and listened. "Makes it hard to walk, as you can see. Especially in the cold. I never did get to thank you for that by the way."
"I did apologise." Tiffany smirked.
"You did?" Dominic seemed taken aback.
"Well, okay. Not apologise, but it was either a knife in the knee or dealing with Chucky. Tell me now, which was it you would have preferred."
"To be honest, I'd have preferred neither." Dominic smiled slightly as he spoke.
"Then you should have kept your dirty fucking hands to yourself." Tiffany leaned forward, her breasts practically hanging over the top of her dress.
"Point taken Miss Valentine, point taken." Dominic waved his hands and brought the cigarette to his lips once more. "Now please, enlighten me. What if I can't help you score your... 'fix'?"
Slowly, and without saying a word, Tiffany stood and approached the desk, her arms spread wide as she leaned forward and placed the palms of her hands against the heavily lacquered wood, leaning in as the bottom of her dress slowly rode up from behind. Speaking softly, her lips curled into a snarl as Dominic Reed shrunk in his luxurious leather seat.
"You either help me score..." She started, a mischievous grin crossing her lips, her eyes narrowing as she continued, leaning in further, her nose inches from Dominic's face, eyes fixed on each other as Dominic's brow gradually began to bead over, the sweat surfacing from the pores of his forehead. "... Or I take your other leg... All of it!"
Taking a big gulp, trying his hardest to remain calm, Dominic gently reached into the drawer to his right, the heavy wooden frame sliding along the runners as Tiffany cast her eyes south, the goods on display as Dominic removed his hand and slowly returned it to its previous place of rest on the arm of the plush, leather bound chair.
"Take it." He took a deep breath, his eyes not once leaving Tiffany throughout the ordeal.
"Good boy." Tiffany raised her left hand and gently patted Dominic's cheek, the cold, damp skin sending a river of repulsion arcing throughout her body as she smirked and dug her hand into the drawer, withdrawing the bags of heroin, the brown powder evident through the small, see through plastic bags. "You know it makes sense."
Standing upright and turning on the spot, Tiffany counted the bags, all four of them, and began her walk to the office door, her long legs striding out beneath her as she crossed the floor and pulled the door open, the dark foyer of the theatre awaiting.
"Tiffany..." Dominic called, causing her to turn as she passed through the door and into the run down entrance, dust visible in the air as the faint light of Dominic's office seeped through the doorway. She said nothing, simply allowing her eyes to rest on Dominic's chubby, seething, bright red face.
"Don't come back here." He calmly spat as his face remained one of stone.
Tiffany smirked, an evil charge rippling across her face.
"Ever."
Heaving open the heavy wooden door and returning to the brighter surroundings of East Garfield Boulevard, Tiffany began the short walk back to Gabriella's the wind still swirling around her body as she walked, her eyes focussing on the cracks in the sidewalk as she tried to decide the best way to approach the situation with Gabriella, knowing one wrong word, one false move could derail the years of hard work, so close, yet so far. Try as she might, there was no 'way' for Tiffany to imagine this, she would simply have to play it by ear and hope that all the pieces came together.
In the dimly lit office, cigarette ash now towering high in the thick, glass ash tray, Dominic Reed reached for his phone and dialled, bringing the phone to his ear as the line buzzed away, the crackle and snap as the call was answered bringing a smile to his face.
"Johnny..." Dominic grinned as he greeted the voice upon answer. "How's the leg?"
Dominic nodded as Gabriella's pimp began ranting, agreeing with the occasional grunt and laugh before suddenly cutting to the point.
"That's good Johnny." He beamed as he placed another cigarette between his lips, striking a match along the rough surface of his desk and inhaling the smoke as the embers of the tip glowed a rich orange.
"Listen... About that blonde chick you mentioned last night..."
Stepping in through the door, the wind outside picking up even harder as the smallest drops of rain began to spit from the heavens, Tiffany slipped off her jacket and headed towards the kitchen, looking at the clock as she entered to find the time had disappeared magically, her trip just a few blocks west taking up over an hour of her time as she slumped at the cluttered kitchen table, placing her bag on the battered, wooden surface before turning and suddenly jumping a mile. Gabriella stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, the kettle whistling on the stove as she turned and flashed Tiffany a half hearted smile, the wrinkles in her face more evident in the daylight, make up flaking as she grabbed the kettle and poured Tiffany a cup of tea. Taking a couple of steps, her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her body, Gabriella set the cup down in front of Tiffany and flicked her thick, brunette locks back over her shoulder, returning to the sink and proceeding to carry on with the dishes.
"You look well." Gabriella quietly muttered over her shoulder as she washed, her eyes fixed on something outside the kitchen window.
"I got some sleep." Tiffany answered. "But then, I heard a noise. I thought that Johnny guy tracked you down."
"I see." Gabriella mumbled, her head dropping as she quietly laughed to herself. "I'm sorry if I woke you. But I suspect you know how I make my money. I work... 'strange hours.'"
"It's not a problem." Tiffany laughed back, the humour lightening the mood somewhat.
"Did you get up?" Gabriella asked, her hands washing the various dishes and pans on autopilot as she awaited the answer.
"Well, to be honest I thought you were being murdered." Tiffany's voice relaxed as she spoke. "So yeah, I got up to make sure everything was alright. As soon as I was sure it was I went back to bed."
"So you saw?" Gabriella doubled over in embarrassment as she smiled and threw her head back over her shoulder, Tiffany cupping the tea in her hands and sipping as her eyes wandered the room in an innocent manner.
"Just a little." She giggled. "Sorry."
"Is okay." Gabriella stood straight. "That particular client is kind of new. He calls at some very inconvenient hours, but he pays well."
"Oh, I get what you mean." Tiffany nodded. "How long have you known him?"
"About two weeks." Gabriella's voice grew louder as she spoke, the nerves that at first resided in her tone now flushed away. "His name is Max, he works over at the toy factory across the city, some kind of executive I think."
Tiffany's eyes doubled in size, her pupils dilated as she placed the cup on the kitchen table and let her mind race. Could this be? No, it couldn't, this couldn't be the same guy... Could it? This couldn't be a coincidence, the jigsaw gaining extra pieces with every minute as the last twenty four hours played out like some predetermined drama.
"You mean Play Pals?" Tiffany gathered her thoughts and spoke, remaining calm.
"I don't know." Gabriella answered, her back to Tiff as she placed dishes on the draining board. "I think so. The name rings a bell. But he's been under quite a lot of, what's the word... Stress?"
"I don't understand." Tiffany pushed further.
"He has been, how you say, very stressed." Gabriella turned briefly, her thick Cuban accent and broken English not something she was proud of, but she tried her best. "He calls here, and I help him 'relieve' that stress."
Giggling, Tiffany took another drink of her tea.
"And in return he relieves the stress on his wallet, am I right?" Tiffany laughed.
"You could say that I guess." Gabriella smirked.
Her mind sensing the opportunity upon her, the best way to play the situation escaping her, Tiffany found herself running on autopilot as she leaned back, the front two legs of the kitchen chair raised from the floor as she suddenly found herself approaching the subject head on.
"Listen, Gabriella." She spoke, coughing to clear her throat. "I'm not going to beat about the bush, I need you to do something for me."
"Oh really?" Gabriella chuckled over her shoulder as her hands continued to massage the bubbles into the cutlery, the dishes piled high beside the basin. "And what may that be?"
"I need you to call this Max guy and invite him over... Tonight." Boom, head on, now just to wait for the reaction, Tiffany knew the kind of girl Gabriella was, and she knew there was a chance this could lead to an argument alright. Hanging her head and reaching for a towel before drying her hands, Gabriella slowly turned, throwing the towel over her shoulder as she leant backwards, resting the bottom of her back on the kitchen worktop, reaching to her left and grabbing her very own cup, bringing it to her lips and taking a drink, all the while her eyes fixed on Tiffany's face. Then, as she lowered the cup, she eventually spoke.
"I'm sorry?" She asked, blinking her eyes rapidly and giving her head a small shake, maybe thinking she'd misheard.
"I need you to call him. Get him over here. Tonight." Tiffany repeated herself.
"No." Gabriella shook her head, her face solemn, her eyes never leaving her guest as she placed the cup beside her on the kitchen worktop.
"Please." Tiffany asked as she placed her own cup on the table, leaning forward and fixing Gabriella a sympathetic look, but still the answer remained negative.
"No." Gabriella shook her head again. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
"I'm sorry?" Tiffany asked, her turn to be confused.
"I know what is going on here." Her tone now carrying an air of anger. "You see us last night? You see... 'him'? You see the nice clothes, nice car and think you can muscle in, maybe he prefer an 'all American' girl, all blonde hair, big tits and no brain. Well no, you are not stealing this man from me, especially when he is such a good payer."
Rolling her eyes, Tiffany leaned backwards once more in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
"Oh please." She started. "Trust me, I'm not interested in snatching your precious meal ticket from under your nose. Besides which sweetface, I'm not what you'd call a 'working girl'."
Gabriella's eyes narrowed, washing over Tiffany's body, from the points of her heels, over the short, tight dress and eventually coming to a halt as she reached the tips of her bleached blonde hair.
"Are you sure?" Gabriella asked with a hiss. "You dress like one."
Tiffany had to laugh, the atmosphere turning suddenly bitchy.
"Very cute." Tiffany's face dropped stony, her eyes never once leaving Gabriella's face. "I'm going to ask nicely, one final time. Call Max. Invite him over tonight."
"Again, the answer is no." Gabriella shook her head once more. "I will never call him, especially not while you're here."
"Oh I wouldn't be so sure." Tiffany reached into her bag now resting beside her, pulling free a couple of the bags recently liberated from the office of Dominic Reed, the heroin inside immediately catching Gabriella's eyes. "I'm sure you can be persuaded."
It was amazing the speed at which Gabriella crumbled, Tiffany shocked at the way her hands immediately began to tremble, sweat breaking out all over her body as she slammed the cup of tea down on the kitchen surface and muttered something under her breath, all the while her eyes fixed on the bag and the murky brown powder resting inside.
"What is it you want with him?" She asked Tiffany. "Tell me that much at least."
"Only to talk." Tiffany answered.
"That is all?" She asked again.
"I promise." Tiffany once again reassured her.
"Why?" Gabriella queried.
"I have my reasons."
"And they are?"
"They're 'my' reasons."
"No dice then." Gabriella instantly recoiled, turning her back on both Tiffany and the drugs, her sweating palms slamming into the kitchen worktop.
"If you must know, it's that factory." Tiffany spoke softly. "I need to get in there, they have something that interests me."
Gabriella spun back around, laughing as she did so.
"Then take the tour, like the rest of the city." The laughter rippled through the apartment as her voice grew louder.
"Not good enough." Tiffany answered, her face still straight. "I need security clearance, the kind only somebody like your precious Max has."
All at once, Gabriella's face changed, a wondrous look taking shape as she looked from Tiffany, to the heroin, then back to Tiffany.
"How do you know about the drugs?" She asked, her mind racing.
"I saw you. Last night, you couldn't do it fast enough." Tiffany replied as Gabriella let out a long, agonising sigh.
"Why do you think I owe you this?" Her voice breaking as she crumbled further, dropping into the wooden chair, now finding herself sat opposite Tiffany at the kitchen table.
"Call it repayment, maybe for me helping you out with that psychopath last night."
Laughter once more reverberated around the apartment as Gabriella threw her head back.
"Excuse me? Didn't I give you a room for the night? I'd say we were more than even." She retorted with a vicious snarl.
"Well to be honest, I'd say one of us is more even than the other." Tiffany's tone was now tired, exhaustion taking over as she pulled the plastic bags back towards her, the scraping sound driving Gabriella crazy as she slowly teased. Without saying a word, Gabriella's hand shot out and grabbed Tiffany by the wrist, the grip tight, almost vice like.
"I will do it." She whispered. "If you only want to talk, then I will do it."
Tiffany stood, breaking free of Gabriella's grip as she made her way to the phone placed on the kitchen wall, the long cord hanging loosely below as Tiffany grabbed the whole unit and carried it to the table, setting it down in front of her host and lifting the receiver. Sweating profusely, she grabbed the phone and began dialling, her hands trembling with every press of the buttons, her body perspiring as she shook, waiting impatiently for the answer at the other end, jumping suddenly as Max answered. It was fair to say that the phone call wasn't entirely appreciated, Gabriella's head dropping as Max berated her. Tiffany couldn't hear the whole conversation as she returned to her seat, but it started with Gabriella apologising for calling him at work, that she knew what had been said about that but it was an emergency. Her tone brightened instantly, Gabriella played with her hair as she spoke, her silk tongue working wonders as the distant muffle of Max's voice began to sound jollier, Gabriella inviting him over later that night, insisting that she had a 'very special surprise' in store, her eyes flicking to Tiffany as she stammered, momentarily lost for words before claiming to have a 'friend' that wanted to join in, that he should consider it a two week anniversary gift, on the house. Suddenly, the demeanour changed completely, Gabriella's face lighting up as she smiled and nodded her head, saying she knew he'd like that idea, Max agreeing as Gabriella insisted on asking him to fetch a bottle of vodka. Why not, she thought. Vodka was good, and if there was to be a 'party' by the end of the night, then vodka was the way to go about it. Saying their goodbyes, as Tiffany motioned to the phone and mimed, Gabriella quickly asked Max to call ahead so that 'they' had chance to prepare for his arrival, Tiffany smiling as she dangled a single bag of heroin in front of Gabriella's face. Slamming the receiver back into the cradle, Gabriella snatched the bag from Tiffany's grip and looked it over.
"See," Tiffany smirked wickedly. "That wasn't too hard now was it?"
Without saying another word, Gabriella stood, clutching the bag to her chest as she raced to her room, returning seconds later and emptying the contents of her top drawer across the surface of the small, dilapidated coffee table taking pride of place in the centre of the living room, dropping to the couch instantly as she grabbed her various peripherals and went to work concocting her 'fix'.
"I'm just going to..." Tiffany began as she stood from the kitchen table and gestured to the front door, unable to watch as Gabriella went to work, the water and powder mixing in the spoon as she held the lighter firmly underneath. Her mind otherwise engaged, Gabriella simply waved over her shoulder as she began to wrap the rubber tubing around her arm once more, the veins standing proud as she violently smacked at the flesh of her elbow. Without saying another word, Tiffany left the room and pulled the door closed behind her, the street outside calling to her as she opened the front door of the apartment and stepped out into the afternoon air, the grey sky hanging miserably overhead as she skipped down the steps and towards anything resembling a bar.
Time for a drink.
A large one.
8:45pm
Gasping, suddenly bursting into life, her body tensing as she sat up and found the dim glow of moonlight filtering in through the open living room window, Gabriella felt the confusion streaking through her brain, casting her head left and right, her hands shooting to her chest as she rushed to take in the fresh air, the room taken over by a cold chill as the wind whistled through the open window and caused the creased, dirty curtains to ripple under the force. She had been roused from her temporary coma by a noise, burying itself deep in her head as she surfaced like a demon, her eyes thrown open as her pupils closed, the light hurting at first as she regained her composure and realised where she was. Finding herself laid out on the couch of her tiny shit hole of an apartment, Gabriella let her feet drop to the floor as her body swivelled, her head pounding as her muscles flared in agony. The ringing noise still echoing through her head grew louder as she hung her head in her hands and looked up, the drug induced hangover taking some shaking off as she found the source of the noise... The phone sat proudly on the coffee table, shrieking it's high pitched ring, similar to some annoying alarm clock as she tenderly reached forward and grabbed the phone from the base and lifted it to her ears, rubbing her eyes as she groggily spoke into the mouth piece.
"Hello?" She groaned, the pulsating feeling in her head growing and growing.
"Hello Gabriella, guess who..." The male voice playfully teased down the line.
"Max?" She asked, her mind still off doing its own thing as she struggled to comprehend.
"That's right." Max laughed, her haze genuinely mistaken for playful small talk.
Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, fighting the urge to vomit, Gabriella's memory quickly started to return, certain sections surfacing quicker than others.
"You have the vodka?" She asked as the cobwebs began to clear.
"The vodka, the vodka?" Max seemed confused, his voice immediately picking up with an enthusiasm. "Of course I remembered the vodka. Two week anniversary, you think I'd forget the vodka? I know what that does to you."
"Okay, hurry up then baby." She blinked and lifted her head, yawning slightly as she let her free arm droop across her lap, the living room floor cold on her bare feet, her dressing gown wide open, her bare breasts and pyjama pants modestly displayed. "We can't wait to get started."
"Okay," Max quickly answered, the noise of passing cars leaping from the ear piece. "Well wait for me!"
"We will. Hurry up." Gabriella insisted as she took another deep breath and quietly coughed.
"On my way." Max replied, giddiness evident in his voice.
"Hurry." Gabriella once more insisted as she removed the phone from her ear and began to set it down.
"Yeah." Max answered as he too replaced the car phone back in the holster, the distant blinking of the liquor stores sign attracting him as he wondered where the fuck he was to get a bottle of vodka from at this time, the Good Guy doll on the rear seat now sat up, listening intently...
Hanging up and rubbing her eyes once more, Gabriella threw her head back and felt the bones and ligament inside her neck crunch with a sick, yet satisfying, grinding sensation as she opened her mouth to shout Tiffany, the words beginning to come out as something suddenly looped over head and came to a rest around her neck, immediately yanked tight as the flow of air became drastically reduced. Grasping at her neck frantically, her long well manicured nails sinking into the cold, soft flesh Gabriella tried to lever the material away from her skin, her brain panicking as she tried in vein to draw breath. Throwing her head forward in confusion, Gabriella found herself trying to stand as she immediately fell backwards, the strength of her attacker pulling her back every time, Gabriella trying everything to fight off the unknown assailant as she threw her head back again, hoping to make contact of some kind, maybe stun this person into loosening their grip at least. Again her efforts proved fruitless as she clawed at the substance, soft, yet lethal against her skin, her neck beginning to drip in a sticky, yet slippery fluid Gabriella correctly guessed to be her own blood, her finger nails digging deep into her own skin as she tried anything to break free. The weapon clamped tight, restricting her breathing felt familiar, with a rubbery feel, stretching as the person behind her pulled harder and harder but never feeling like snapping or breaking. Gabriella knew what this material was, as the touch became familiar, her head starting to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. This same material had so often been clamped around Gabriella's body, just not her neck. The tubing from her drawer began to rub as she shook her head and violently struggled, her arms flailing as the intruder dodged every attempt at escaping their clutches. Finding a large reserve of strength and drawing on it as her final effort, Gabriella mustered the energy to stand, feeling the tubing tighten as her attacker twisted it around her neck pulling harder and harder still as Gabriella fought on, reaching her feet and glancing in the mirror, Tiffany's face twisted in pure, unbridled rage as she yanked harder, Gabriella's eyes beginning to bulge from her sockets with every bit of pressure Tiffany applied, her face bright red as she began to feel the room go darker and darker still, her body going into shock as her lungs became starved, the moonlight flowing in from outside and illuminating her living room with a beauty she had never noticed before as the corners of her vision began to darken. One final thought ocurred, as Gabriella heard Tiffany grunting behind her, her arms lacking the strength to claw at her neck anymore, the blood now drying on her finger nails and giving them a tacky feeling as her body fell numb. She was amazed at how quiet it was. Tiffany's sporadic grunts of pleasure and effort were the only sound, barring the odd piece of furniture moving along the floor as they bumped around the room. Then, as she dropped to her knees, Tiffany standing above her and giving one final pull on the tubing, Gabriella let go, darkness surrounding her as her entire body fell numb.
It was a good few minutes after Gabriella had dropped to her knees and finally ceased movement, that Tiffany figured it was a good time to let go, Gabriella's flaccid corpse now held up only by the rubber tubing wrapped so vigorously around her neck. Taking a deep, calming breath, Tiffany finally released both hands of the murderous appliance and flinched ever so slightly at the sickening thud as Gabriella's face hit the ground, the body completely still as Tiffany stepped over and to the window, her heels the only noise in the room as she tried to quietly cross the room, looking through the living room window and out into the street below. She figured she had a good half an hour before Max arrived, but decided against cleaning up the body and resulting mess, choosing to simply wait for the knock on the door and simply entice Max in with the promise of Gabriella awaiting him in the bedroom. The thought occurred for her to simply move Gabriella into the bedroom and arrange the body so max would be taken completely by surprise, the dramatic effect maybe helping liberate the information much quicker. But in the end, Tiffany simply left Gabriella where she lay, turning from the window and stepping over the body once more towards the couch. Kicking off her heels and slumping to the soft cushion of the couch, Tiffany curled her feet underneath her body and grabbed the remote control, firing the TV into life and beginning to flick through the channels.
Not long now.
Not long at all.
September 20th 1990
7:58am
Sunlight...
What the fuck...?
Opening her eyes, still sat in the same position, the remote face down on the living room floor, Tiffany quickly jumped up, her legs dead from the hours of being cramped beneath her body, the lack of blood making it take time for feeling and movement to return as she sat on the room floor besides the pale blue corpse of Gabriella, the small pool of coagulated blood around the neck area soaking into the bare floor boards throughout the night. Spinning her head and glancing into the kitchen, Tiffany saw the time on the clock. Almost 8 AM, dammit. There wasn't much of an inquest to be had, she'd fallen asleep, but at what time? She last looked at the clock and found it to be the early hours of the morning, but where the fuck was this Max character? There'd been no knock at the door, no phone call, nothing at all. The only thing Tiffany could deduce from this whole charade was that something had happened to either put Max off, or some tragedy had befallen him, like a phone call from home. Feeling the sensation returning to her legs, along with an immense amount of pins and needles, Tiffany stood gingerly to her feet and shook her legs, the tickling sensation making her feel queasy as she slowly walked to the kitchen, the hammering at the door making her spin half circle on the spot, the letterbox flapping as the voice on the other side yelled through.
"GABRIELLA!" The call came loud and clear, Tiffany recognising the voice in a heartbeat.
Johnny, Gabriella's pimp.
"GABRIELLA OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!" His voice raged, the volume alerting various neighbours as shouts were heard from floors below and above, the police on their way as Johnny was told to leave the apartment block, kicks reigning down on the apartment door, drowning out the pleas from various residents.
Thinking on her feet, slipping her heels and jacket on, Tiffany raced into the kitchen, her only hope, some kind of back door out of the apartment.
There was none...
Panicking and finding only a kitchen window nestled in the wall above the kitchen sink, Tiffany raced towards it, arms a blur as she desperately swept the dishes and cutlery to one side, the clatter of metal, the smashing of porcelain serving only to anger Johnny even further.
"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He screamed between kicks, the pounding returning twice as fast, twice as hard.
Her heart beating faster, Tiffany climbed onto the kitchen counter and wrestled with the locks of the windows, the small handles stiff, seized in place due to lack of use. She pushed harder, the wooden frame of the window beginning to splinter as finally the lock mechanism gave a squeal and began to move, slowly but surely as Tiffany put her weight behind each push, the explosion echoing in from the hall as Johnny finally dealt the fatal blow to the door, wood splintering the hallway. All at once, the lock spun throwing the window open as Tiffany's exit on to the rear fire escape presented itself, teasing her as she began to crawl through, the remnants of porcelain cutting into her bare knees as she struggled through the incredibly narrow gap, finding her progress halted as a pair of hands wrapped around her ankles and began to pull her back towards the kitchen. Trying to spin and kick our at Johnny, Tiffany found herself fighting with thin air as she spun onto her back, her body dragged in an instant, skidding through the window, back along the kitchen counter and dropping to the floor, coming to rest in the middle of the broken plates and cutlery as Johnny circled overhead, an astonished look on his face as he realised this wasn't Gabriella, Tiffany's face seeming familiar as he cast his mind back over the altercation from the other night, the penny finally dropping.
"You!?" Johnny seemed puzzled, yet the anger never relented, especially as his foot shot out, missing Tiffany's head by a fraction as she quickly dodged out of the way, rolling onto her side and awkwardly jumping to her feet, a heel snapping free from her shoe and rendering her off balance as Johnny charged across the kitchen, tackling her around the waist as he threw her into the flimsy wall, the plaster cracking around her body as stars began to circle her vision. Before she knew it, Johnny pulled her from the wall, throwing her across the kitchen, Tiffany landing on her knees and sliding across the fragments of sharp, snowy white porcelain, scattered in every direction. Feeling the thudding, the slamming of footsteps, Tiffany knew what was coming next as Johnny once more charged at her, head bowed, a bellow of rage escaping his lungs as he raced once more across the kitchen, Tiffany's reactions slow, yet not completely useless as she instinctively reached for the metal frying pan by her side, swinging her body full circle, her arm arcing through the air in a blurring movement as she both felt and heard the sickening thud of the metal base on Johnny's skull, his body immediately falling limp as he hit the ground, blood beginning to pour from the dent, freshly made. And like that it was over, no sooner had it started, Tiffany had once more dealt the lethal force with which she had become so accustomed, her head now groggy from the force of her body hammering into the wall just seconds ago. As she stood, leaning on the worktop, she bent double and scooped up her heel, looking this way, then that, in the hope of some sort of adhesive, beginning to rumble through the drawers before finding a tube of crazy glue and removing her shoe, the glue taking a minute or two to work its wondrous magic. The apartment was a mess, the blue body of Gabriella only just visible through the archway between the kitchen and living room, all the while Johnny lay still on the kitchen floor. Tiffany was sure he was dead, but there was a piece of her begging her not to check as she slowly, very quietly took two short steps towards him and knelt by his side, checking for a pulse and finding none. Suddenly her ears pricked up, the noise in the distance...
Sirens...
Heading for the apartment door, entering the hall, Tiffany ground to a halt as she remembered the concerned voices of Gabriella's neighbours, no doubt still listening, still watching, observing...
Witnessing...
Turning a half circle and heading back into the kitchen, Tiffany realised there was only one thing for it as she once again mounted the kitchen counter and crawled across the draining board, the kitchen window still wide open, inviting her through as she fell with a bang onto the fire escape, the vibration working its way through the steel structure and causing the short ladder to break free from its supports as it rapidly lowered itself to the floor out the back of the apartments one storey below. The sirens grew louder as voices were heard over the roof of the building, shouting to the police as the sirens were cut, the screeching of tyres on the asphalt ending abruptly as various neighbours began telling them which apartment the disturbance had been heard from. Looking up as she descended the ladder, Tiffany found not one pair of eyes on her as she reached the bottom, her body wobbling as she jumped the last step and landed on her heels, her ankle almost snapping as she tried hard to keep her balance. Taking one last look around and spying the narrow alley leading out towards the front of the building, Tiffany brushed herself down and zipped up her jacket, the rain picking up as she walked, her hair and legs soaking to bone by the time she emerged into the crowd now gathered out the front of the building. Police were holding back the small crowd as their colleagues worked away inside the apartment, one of them returning to the concrete balcony outside the front door and speaking into his radio, the conversation blaring from the radio of one of the ground stationed officers, people gasping at the news. Two fatalities, the coroner summoned immediately. Throwing her arms across her chest and keeping her head down, Tiffany began to slope off into the overcast evening, suddenly remembering her handbag sat in Gabriella's spare room. Although no identification was in the bag, Tiffany had hundreds of dollars in cash that had now become the property of Gabriella, no doubt to be taken as evidence before being 'redistributed' through the appropriate channels.
Facing the prospect of no home, no money, and with nowhere else to turn, Tiffany walked into the distance, with not a soul thinking anything of it.
2:44pm
The hours walking, the trek into the city had left Tiffany cold and wet, the heavens never stopping with the constant downpour as she occasionally rested for five minutes in the odd bus stop, a couple of cars pulling to the kerb and asking if she required any 'assistance'. Another day then maybe she'd have seen that as easy money, her male companion unsuspecting until well after it was too late, as she ran a knife across his throat or simply sat atop him and placed her bare hands around his neck. Maybe Gabriella had a point about the way she dressed. But today was different. Today had seen all her plans, carefully thought out and deployed, come to a most undignified halt as years of searching, years of waiting finally passed by without so much as a whisper. Looking up into the crowds of people headed down main street Tiffany spied hundreds of umbrellas held skywards as couples casually strolled past, laughing and joking as they shopped, headed home, maybe even ventured out for a day in the city, good food, nice hotels, finishing with a date at the theatre. Tiffany felt the sickness and rage bubbling over deep beneath her surface as she fought of the jealousy, the envy, but mostly the anger at how her plans had come crashing down around her ankles. It was as her head was lifted for that one solitary moment that she noticed the news stand to her left, sat surrounded by a bustling crowd as people bought magazines, made small talk, looked over the headlines, the various sandwich boards displaying the hot news from all over Chicago, one in particular standing out, the blonde woman staring into the face of every person passing the kiosk.
It was Tiffany...
An old picture, but nevertheless there she was, the headline above reading
'GIRL SOUGHT IN STABBING'
Keeping her head down, Tiffany crossed the wet concrete and snatched a paper from the shelf, flicking to the corresponding page and allowing her eyes to flit over the body of text. Evan was alive. She'd almost forgotten about him, laying there as Tiffany left the apartment, the name of Gabriella quickly scrawled by Office Harry Marsh her only lead as she fought him off, along with his friend Sam, before heading into the night. By the looks of this, the police had been called, a report filed and now Tiffany was reeling to find herself a wanted woman, her head spinning left and right as she panicked, thinking maybe somebody there right now noticed her. Luckily, nobody seemed to be looking as Tiffany threw the paper back onto the shelf and buried her head, her chin disappearing behind the collar of her jacket. Hands in her pocket, Tiffany began to walk away from the news kiosk, the department store entrance bang opposite creating a crowd of epic proportions as people stopped and started, bumping into each other as they entered and exit the store. Looking up to make her way through the crowd, Tiffany's eyes picked up on not one, but two police officers just a little down the street, resting and chatting on the corner as one of the men looked up in her direction, his eyes seeming to narrow ever so slightly as Tiffany ducked into the crowd and disappeared through the doors of the store, the cold wet street outside heaving with hundreds as she made her way across the crowded shop floor and to the escalators. Deep down, Tiffany knew not to panic, the chances of the cop recognising her probably in the thousands to one category as she calmly rode the automatic staircase, getting off and walking slowly through the electrical goods department, various tools and home accessories on display as Tiffany made her way through, the bank of TV sets on the far wall catching her attention as she headed over and investigated further. There appeared to be some kind of interview on the local news, the man speaking to the reporter indicated by WDOL news to be a detective with the Chicago Police Department. Grabbing the remote from the top of one of the television sets, Tiffany pressed the mute button and each of the twenty two television sets burst into life, the sound echoing throughout the department as the interview commenced, Tiffany having no idea why she had been drawn to the report, but something deep within compelling her to watch, to listen as the reporter pushed further, but then she saw it, as the name of the detective disappeared and the headline flashed up.
'PLAY PALS EXECUTIVE MURDERED'
In that one second, Tiffany found clarity, the reason for Max Mattson's failure to show up suddenly loud and clear as she listened in to the interview.
"So detective Banks, what can you tell us about this case so far?" The reporter asked, Detective Banks clearing his throat and beginning to speak.
"All we can say right now is that the victim was discovered late last night by one of the local residents out walking their dog." He answered, the words rolling from his tongue.
"Do we have any idea what the victim was doing in this particular area?" The reporter pressed on, her voice cutting through Tiffany as she spoke.
"We're not sure right now." Banks answered again. "According to Mr Mattson's wife, he called her not long before hand and assured her he had to work late. There appears to be no signs of any forced entry on the vehicle, neither internal or external. So whether Mr Mattson voluntarily picked up or arranged to meet somebody, we're still looking into. We have checked Mr Mattson's car phone and found a couple of phone numbers on there from the time after he called his wife, so that's one avenue we're looking to explore in a little more depth."
"Are there any signs of another person possibly being in the car?" She asked without thinking, the detective's face frowning as he remained composed and answered once more.
"The only signs my dear, are the manner in which this seemingly innocent member of the public was viciously murdered." His voice seemed spiky as his tone tuned to one of disgruntlement. "The hands were secured behind the seat with a jump rope, while a plastic bag was secured over his face restricting the flow of oxygen, basically suffocating the poor man. Now we have a forensics team combing every inch of that car, but so far they are yet to find a set of finger prints other than Mr Mattson's. Now because we 'are' finding Mr Mattson's prints, this makes it very unlikely that the killer has wiped away their own prints after the murder. Which is very odd. Now we are hearing people jumping to conclusions that this may have been some kind of sex act gone wrong, but I think it's safe to say that this act goes way beyond anything like that."
"And how about the remarkable similarities to the murder of Office Harry Marsh just days earlier detective?" The reporter carried on, her questions failing to get the detective riled. "has it been considered that this may be the work of the same person?"
"I wouldn't have thought so." He snapped back, coughing to clear his throat once more. "The only similarity is that both men were murdered whilst sat behind the steering wheels of their cars. Apart from that there is nothing to link these two events."
"How about the rumours? That missing evidence from the Barclay/Play Pals case was found resting in the rear of Officer Marsh's squad car on the night he died?"
"I'm not entirely sure what you're getting at hear Miss..." The detective responded, reeling from the question as he tried to dodge the bullet fired his way.
"The evidence found in Officer Marsh's car being that same evidence reported missing by the current victim just the day earlier as the Karen Barclay case was thrown out of court. The 'Killer Doll' case evidence seeming to turn up in the rear of Officer Marsh's squad car? You're telling us there's nothing in that?" She pushed even harder, the detective visibly startled as he struggled to answer.
"Listen," He started, his hand attempting to cover the camera lens, the car in the parking lot being worked on by the forensics team in the background of shot. "Out of respect for the memory of Officer Marsh and his family, I really don't feel the need to make any comments regarding that. An internal investigation is currently underway, and until that were to be concluded then I think it would be extremely unprofessional to cast aspersions on a fellow officer, especially one with such an exemplary record as Officer Marsh."
"But detective, there are also reports of a Good Guy doll missing from Mr Mattson's vehicle..." The reporter attempted to butt in, Detective Banks having none of it as he raised his voice and finally clapped his hand over the lens of the camera.
"Now if you'll excuse me, we have an actual crime scene to attend to, and as you can understand, people in this community deserve we give this our full attention. Thank you." The officer released the camera, disappearing into the side of the TV set as the cameraman flashed back to the reporter, her small figure and incredibly dark hair accentuated by the illuminating smile as she reported back to the studio, Tiffany deciding enough was enough as she pressed the 'mute' button once more and cast the banks of televisions sets into silence, her mind racing as she tried to place the pieces together. That last question, the detective seemed to butt in and blank her as she mentioned a doll, a Good Guy doll... Missing from the car. The hairs on Tiffany's body stood and shivered as her body dropped cold, the voice booming behind her as people parted around her, a circle opening up as people gasped, the volume of the man's voice almost perforating Tiffany's ear drum and making her jump in shock, as she stood perfectly still.
"YOU!" The voice bellowed at her. "DROP TO YOUR KNEES..."
Tiffany stood still, her body stunned into shock, paralysis setting in.
"NOW!" The voice commanded.
Taking a deep breath, her body visibly trembling, Tiffany slowly dropped to her knees, one by one, the throngs of shoppers stopping to see what the fuss was.
"HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!" The voice ordered again. "DO IT!"
Dropping the remote to the floor, the impact audible around the now silent electrical goods department, Tiffany calmly and slowly placed hands behind her head, the palms of her hands pressing up against her wet, cold hair as she felt footsteps approaching from behind, the ice cold feeling of metal on skin as the cuffs were clapped around her wrists and she was dragged to her feet without another word. Without warning she found herself being patted down, suddenly spun around and into the face of the two police officers from the street, one with his gun trained on her, the other speaking as Tiffany focused and allowed his voice to become something other than a muffled streak of noise.
"Tiffany Valentine..." The officer spoke again, sensing that she had failed to hear the first time. "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Evan Carter."
And with that, Tiffany gave up...
What now?