Okay, I'm sorry, I know, I know, this was supposed to be updated Wednesday but I've been so busy recently with school and everything in between. I will hopefully, fingers-crossed, get you an update on Wednesday/Thursday.
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I stare long and hard at the papers and portfolios of Jess Leatherwood as I try to uncover what has happened. What boggles my mind most is that there were no self-inflicted wounds on her body. Not even a bruise. And her body comes back from testing today and we get the results to see if anything was in her system that would've killed her.
"Have you slept?" Stiles asks as he comes into the kitchen where I sit trying to uncover everything that has happened. The truth is I slept for a few hours but my mind is buzzing with all these thoughts and theories about what may be happening, so I had to get up, even if it was two in the morning and is now eight.
"Of course, I woke up about an hour ago." I lie to him, praying my eyes don't have that haze when someones tired. And it isn't a complete lie. I have slept for a few hours. I would be able to sleep more if I could get the image of her dead body out of my head...
"Are you coming into the station today?" Stiles asks as he takes the seat opposite me and picks at the bowl of fruit I had made myself about half hour ago to quell my hunger.
"Stiles, you do know if you get me on a case I won't stop until it's solved?" I question, he smiles and hangs his head, nodding.
"Of course, I should've known." Stiles says softly, earning a smile from my lips. "What do you propose we do?"
"We look into her background history, her family, friends and if she had any lovers. If she had any mental health issues, that sort thing. Then we work from there, from there we discover if it was supernatural or not." I sigh as I rummage through the papers to find the address of her house so we know where to start, finding it I hand it over to him.
"Why don't you just take my job?" Stiles jokes as I rise from my seat.
"Sorry, Stiles, I'm still studying for that Fields Medal." I wink at him, he files through the paper and places it down.
"You don't need to study it, Lyds. They can just look at all your notebooks to see how you try to prove every theory." Stiles tells me, a soft smile on his face. My heart skips a beat, still every time he compliments me I get butterflies. "Will you be ready in an hour?"
"Of course," I tell him walking down the hall to get ready for whatever the day has to hold, hoping we might get somewhere in the investigation.
"It's the left here," I point out to Stiles as we drive to the desolate street where the victim's parents house. The street is bare, no cars parked outside, no children out in the crisp morning air, walking to school. There's nothing and no-one as if the whole street is deeply disturbed by the girls suicide even if they didn't know her. Well, if you can call it suicide.
We come to a stop outside a rather large house that's painted a lime green and has bright white window frames and door. It looks old-fashioned but the Range Rover on the drive makes me think other wise. I also get the feeling they're rich, considering the size of Jess' house yesterday when she's only twenty-one years-old, and of course their grand house now and their fancy car.
Me and Stiles get out of the car and walk slowly to the front door but just as I'm about to knock Stiles grabs hold of my wrist, forcing me to look at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Listen," He says, dropping my wrist so it hangs by my waist, "Maybe we should have a signal if you sense anything... supernatural." Stiles says in a low voice. I ponder what he says. He definitely thinks it's supernatural then, if he believes I might sense something, despite only being able to sense death.
"You know I can only predict death, right?" I tell him, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "Whatever Stiles, how about..." I stand there thinking it over for a little while, something casual that won't seem like we're sending a warning sign to the other, "I'll hold your hand and and give it a squeeze, okay?"
"You got it." He says nodding, then he knocks on the door and after waiting for several seconds the door opens to reveal a gruff man standing in the entrance. His hair is dark, seeping through with grey. His stubble is left untouched on his chin and he wears pajamas, despite knowing we were coming since an hour ago.
"Hello, Sir, I'm Deputy Stiles Stilinski and this is my colleague Lydia Martin," He says, flashing his badge making my heart flutter, and introducing me as his 'colleague' because technically I shouldn't be here right now. "We called about an hour ago, we want to talk to you about your daughter's suicide, Jess Leatherwood."
"Come in," He says, his voice is deep and croaky, he steps aside and me and Stiles walk in, Stiles' hand on my lower back.
Their house is decorated rather extravagantly with portraits in gold frames hanging on the wallpapered walls along with fancy chandeliers dangling from the ceiling.
He leads us into the living room that has plush velvet seats and tea and biscuits set out on the glass table. I exchange a glance with Stiles whose eyes flicker in something I can't read. In the corner staring out of the window is a woman, her mother.
She looks far more better than the dad, her hair is combed back into a braid and she has made the effort to get dressed, although she has a tissue pressed to her nose. My heart sinks as I think what my mom would be like if I ever died.
"Thanks, for having us," I say as me and Stiles take a seat on the sofa, awkwardly Stiles gets his pocket sized notepad out with a pen poised, ready.
"We didn't really have a choice did we?" Mrs Leatherwood spits, she turns around and sits on the arm chair next to us. Stiles gives her a hard look, despite being on the job still protecting me.
"It's routine, we just need to ask a few questions." Stiles says calmly, Mr Leatherwood nods and puts an arm around his wife. It looks affectionate.
"Go ahead." He croaks.
"So, as we believe that this was a suicide-" I start but suddenly Mrs Leatherwood becomes angry and points her finger at me, aggressively.
"This was no suicide, young lady!" She shouts, tears leaking from her bloodshot eyes as she stands up now, Mr Leatherwood trying to pull her back down, my mouth goes a little dry, "Why would my baby want to kill herself?" She cries, loud and heartbroken.
Stiles visibly tenses, his jaw clenches. My heart sinks a little as, only now, I truly realize how horrible it must be for your daughter- or anyone you loved for that matter- to accept that they ended their own life even if they still had at least another sixty-years worth left in them.
But then as what she says sinks in, my brain registers something. If she can't understand why her daughter committed suicide then maybe, maybe, it wasn't a suicide, it could've even been a murder. I glance at Stiles who is already staring at me, his wheels in his brain turning behind his eyes.
"Was she happy?" Stiles asks gently once Mrs Leatherwood calms down, she sits with her head buried in her husbands neck as he soothingly strokes her hair.
"She was always happy. She was never bullied. She had a great group of friends. She was clever, beautiful, God she wasted her life!" Mr Leatherwood spits. Stiles quickly makes notes, his pencil scratching across the paper.
"Did she have a boyfriend?" I ask.
"Yes, although they'd been broken up for about two months now. He was a lovely man, loved her to pieces. He wouldn't harm a hair on her body." He replies, now Mrs Leatherwood sits up, wiping her puffy, red eyes as she sniffs every three seconds and looks of the window, somewhat distant.
"What's his name?" Stiles asks, they tell us it was a boy named Zack Baker, who lives ten minutes away from here, according to them Jess and Zack kept close contact. So after an hour of questioning and getting as much information as we can we leave and head to Zack's house in hope he has better answers to her death. Me and Stiles both discussed in the car how it couldn't possibly of been a suicide after finding out she was living perfectly happy, and from the looks of it she was wealthy too.
Once we arrive at her ex-boyfriends house, we're invited in by him, who seems just as heartbroken over the death of his ex-girlfriend as her parents were. And not to mention he is one fine-looking man.
He sits us down in his apartment and bites his knuckles in thought as we try to make ourselves as comfy as possible in a strangers home.
"So, we just want to run a few questions, make sure that when the case is closed on Jess Leatherwood everything is disclosed properly and truthfully." Stiles says, his tone sophisticated and professional, Zack nods, "So, we got a lot of background information from her parents, and seeming as you were still close we wandered if she had mad any recent enemies, or if she was, perhaps worried or sad about anything?"
"No, she never made enemies," He said, offering a sad smile at the thought of her, "She was looking to buy an art studio though, the estate agent she said was very weird, I was worried if it made her worried."
"Art studio? With what company?" I question. Although I'm not sure what he means that she was weird.
"Yeah, she loved art, she could paint for hours. But I-uh think it was with a company called Andrews?" He wonders, almost as if he's thinking out-loud.
"Yeah, I know the one. Why didn't she like her? What made her weird did she say?" Stiles inquires, pursing his lips.
"She said she got this weird vibe from her, like danger or something," He shrugs, he sniffs and I exchange a worried glance with Stiles whose eyes share a weary look.
"Oh really? Was she a psychic or something?" Stiles almost jokes.
Zack laughs lightly, as if remembering something of the sort happen between him and Jess, "She would always say she knows when someone was about to die. Always confused me."
My heart stops beating and my mouth is dry as I swallow thickly and force myself not to look at Stiles. Can't make it obvious we know something he doesn't.
"Oh- Uh, that is weird but hey, we all have a sixth-sense of some sort, right?" Stiles jokes. Zack nods and laughs lightly again, although it must be hard for him to laugh at the given time.
"Thank you for your time, Zack, but we really must be getting off now. Thank you for talking to us, it's really appreciated." I tell him nodding, standing up and shaking his hand as Stiles does the same.
"I have a quick unrelated question," He says as we walk to the door, me and Stiles raise our eyebrows, "Are you two together? In love?" Me and Stiles both nod, "Don't let her go," He addresses Stiles, "You never know when they'll slip through your fingers."
"You're a good man. I'm sure we'll be in touch." Stiles says patting his back and leaving the house with me. My heart warms a little at the kid, how sweet that was of him. After losing the love of his life (I presume) he gives advice to a man who he has spoken to for half an hour.
We wait until we're in the car to speak, as if he might hear us if we talk before.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Stiles speaks, his voice sounding weak.
"Banshee?"
"Banshee. But maybe it wasn't triggered just yet, otherwise he would've said something about her screaming." Stiles tells me as we drive back to the station. He sighs and I look up at him, concerned.
"Maybe she did. Maybe he didn't say anything because he thought he would sound absolutely nuts." I say, suddenly worried that everything supernatural might 'commit suicide'.
"Listen, It'll be fine," He tells me, sensing my worry he puts a hand on my knee, "We'll-" He's cut off by his phone ringing, he fishes it out of his pocket handing it to me. After years of me drilling onto him about never answering his pone when driving, he's finally listened.
It's his dad.
"Sheriff?" I say down the phone.
"We've got the test results back, come to the station."
"We're on our way." I tell him, putting the phone down, I look at him and it's like he knows what he just said, he puts is foot down harder on the accelerator.
"Cyanide? " Stiles exclaims as we stand in the Sheriff's office looking through the reports that came back from the hospital.
"I guess it makes sense that something was in her system but... Cyanide? That's the strangest thing ever for a supernatural being to use." I sigh.
"You know how you mentioned her skin turning almost a yellow colour? Well that was because the cyanide had gotten to her liver, how she got cyanide in the first place, we don't know," The Sheriff says, "There are no traces of her, whatsoever, buying cyanide gas or cyanide pills."
"I guess we look into it more tomorrow-" Stiles starts to say but can't finish it as Parrish walks in with urgency.
"Parrish?"
"There's been another suicide." He delivers. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and I drop into the chair next to his desk. My head falls into my hands and I sigh.
This can't be no coincidence, suicides are rare- believe it or not -in this town.
The Sheriff nods and Parrish leaves. Stiles comes over to me and rubs my shoulder as I try to put together the incomplete puzzle of this mystery.
"Why don't you guys head home? It's been a long day and tomorrow will be a longer one. We'll figure it out." Sheriff Stilinski sighs as he offers me a small smile.
"C'mon," Stiles says, gently pulling me out of the chair. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."
So with that we go home and my mind turns and spins hundreds of times over trying to figure out what all of this could mean, what could of done this, who could of done this.
"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" I ask Stiles as we sink into our couch, his hand on my thigh and my head on his shoulder.
"I don't know baby," He says softly, rubbing small circles in my leg, "I don't know."
And in the midst of all the chaos and danger that is yet to approach, I fall asleep on Stiles' shoulder.