A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far. The next chapter will finally introduce the detective from the future.
Disclaimer: see chapter one
Murdoch walked into the station and immediately went over to Crabtree's desk. The Constable was writing up a report when Murdoch appeared. Crabtree glanced up from his work, his expression expectant. He knew just by the look on the detective's face that the report was going to be put on hold for a while as a task was in his very near future.
"George, I need you to pull everything we have on Noah Collins," Murdoch instructed.
"The son?" Crabtree asked. "Why?"
"It's for the case," Murdoch told him.
With that, he walked away and disappeared into his office. Shrugging, Crabtree got up from his desk and headed to the filing room. Seeing Murdoch walk into his office, Brackenreid took the opportunity to corner the detective. He walked into Murdoch's office and leaned against the doorframe.
"I trust you had a grand chat with the shrink?" Brackenreid asked.
Murdoch looked up from placing his hat on the coat rack. "Yes, sir, I did. It was quite informative," he said.
"Was it now?" Brackenreid said.
"Yes. I believe I know who to be searching for," Murdoch replied.
"And who might that poor soul be?" Brackenreid wanted to know.
"Noah Collins."
Brackenreid frowned. "The son? What makes you think he has anything to do with this case?"
"Upon further reflection, I remembered that it was the son who made that hangman threat, not his father," Murdoch explained.
"Bloody hell," Brackenreid said. "I knew that bugger had a few screws loose." He nodded. "Carry on," Brackenreid instructed before walking out of the office.
It didn't take the Constable long to locate the Noah Collins file. Crabtree skimmed over the reports as he made his way back out to Murdoch's office. Nothing seemed to jump out at him; but then again, Murdoch often found things that others missed. It was one of the many mysteries of the detective.
Crabtree knocked on the doorframe of Murdoch's office and was immediately granted entry. He walked up to Murdoch who was staring intently at the blackboard. Crabtree's eyes fell on the note stuck to the corner of the board. It sent a chill shooting down the Constable's spine. Crabtree held out the file to Murdoch.
"There's nothing out of the ordinary, sir," he said as Murdoch took the file. "Just petty theft."
Murdoch read over the notes in the file. He turned to the last page and his eyes instantly fell on the charges of uttering threats to a police officer and threatening an officer with a weapon.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, George," Murdoch said. "I think we need to have a talk with Mr. Collins."
The park was peaceful and quiet in the late afternoon. Families were on their way home for supper after a busy day of fun and games. Amelia Easton was taking the long way home from work, trying to clear her thoughts. She had had words with her employer concerning her work. She was a teller at the Bank of Toronto and he had accused her of stealing. Of course, she denied it and he gave her a warning. The next time she wouldn't be so lucky.
Amelia wiped a stray tear from her cheek with her gloved hand and tried to fight back the tears that threatened to overflow. She looked up at the trees as she walked down the path. The sun filtered through the leaves; sunbeams dancing as though they were alive. She loved nature; loved the complexity of it. One species couldn't survive without another and all species wouldn't be able to survive without the sun and rain.
Amelia was brought out her thoughts when she heard a noise coming from the trees bordering the path. However, she just passed it off as animals and continued on her way. However, the noise sounded again and when she turned to look, Amelia was met by a gloved hand and a handkerchief. She detected a sickly scent before everything was plunged into darkness.
No matter how many times he got the call, Murdoch would never get used to the sight of a dead body. But, this...This was just brazen. From Julia's first impressions the poor girl had been beaten, strangled and who knew what else, and left draped over the steps of Station House Four with nothing but her under garments on. Death had occurred between midnight and four in the morning. Murdoch crossed himself with a heavy sigh. A crowd had gathered and Constables were trying to keep them back. Reporters were calling out for comments from the detective, but Murdoch never acknowledged them. He looked up when Brackenreid walked up.
"Bloody hell," Brackenreid growled. "What sick, brazen bastard does this to the Constabulary?"
"I believe it to be the work of Noah Collins," Murdoch replied.
"I hope it is," Brackenreid said. "So I can put the noose around his neck myself. No one taunts us like this and gets away with it."
With that said, he stalked off. Just then, Crabtree walked up after taking statements from witnesses, or lack thereof from the look on his face.
"What have you, George?" Murdoch asked.
"It's what I don't have," Crabtree told him. "No one saw anything, no one heard anything. It's like she just suddenly appeared on the station steps."
"Who found the body?" Murdoch asked.
Crabtree turned and pointed over to a very shaken looking Higgins. The Constabulary was no stranger to murder victims, but this was the first time one had ever been dumped on a Station House's front step. This hit too close to home; it was message and Murdoch received it loud and clear. The first of three victims was dead. Two more and then it was Murdoch's turn.
Murdoch turned to look at Crabtree. "We need to find Collins," he said. "Before he kills again."
Crabtree looked into the crowd. "Well, sir, we shan't have to look very far," he replied.
"Why do you say that?" Murdoch asked.
Crabtree pointed at someone. "Because he's right there."
Murdoch followed Crabtree's indication and spotted Noah Collins in the crowd. Knowing that he was spotted, Collins took off. Murdoch and Crabtree instantly gave chase, yelling at Collins to stop. If it wasn't for the adrenaline pumping through his veins, Murdoch was certain he would have dropped from the heat exhaustion that rapidly began to set in. He could hear Crabtree huffing right behind him.
Collins led them through crowded streets, pushing people to the side and tipping over whatever was in his path, trying to slow down the detective and Constable. However, Murdoch and Crabtree never missed a beat. Collins ducked into an alleyway, thinking that he would have a better chance at losing the cops. However, when Murdoch and Crabtree rounded the corner, they stopped dead. It was a dead end alley...so where was Collins? Gasping for breath, Murdoch looked around in puzzlement.
"It's a dead end," Crabtree rasped out.
"I can see that, George," Murdoch told him.
"So, where's Collins?" Crabtree asked, looking at the detective.
Murdoch met Crabtree's bewildered gaze before turning back to look at the brick wall ten feet in front of him.
"I don't know, George," Murdoch answered. "I don't know."
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