CHAPTER SEVEN

Frozen Memoirs

Throughout his young life, Seth had always been sufficed with the title of "hot-tempered". Often referred to as violent, over reactive, and disabled by his teachers, Seth's childhood had been twisted, leaving him with tormented nights for years, evenafter he had broke away from a broken home. Though being on the police force had greatly improved his patience and control, the man's anger still raged quietly within him.

Standing at the end of the staircase and looking up into the eyes of the mysterious blonde as he paused halfway down, Seth could feel a rage burning his heart. The man's chest tightened as a fitful look passed over his features. The youth however, remained unmoving, but clearly aware of the position he had walked himself into.

Seth let his gaze take in every inch of the growingly familiar stranger, straying to a lump held firmly beneath one arm. In a tight, but clear voice, he prompted, "What are you doing here?"

Pausing only momentarily as he slowly stepped his way down towards Seth, the man replied in a calm, casual tone, "Looking for you."

Standing his ground and blocking the stairway, Seth's brow narrowed at these three simple words, as he demanded in a clear, deep tone, "Why?"

Stopping just a few steps away from the bottom and lowering his gaze to look the man straight in the eyes, the youth answered, "I've heard that you have taken up the Cloning case again."

Seth's heart pumped against his chest at this. How many officers at the station had Karse informed about the return of his old partner? How many people had those people told since? Making a mental note to speak with the careless coot, Seth asked flatly, "What does that matter to you?"

The lad didn't break the gaze as he said with a mockingly hurt tone, "Detective…I knew these men. I knew their ambitions, and I knew their faults. A gamer can still be an achiever. You'd do well to remember that."

Before Seth could find a response to this statement, the youth was already stepping down. Without waiting for Seth to move, he was pushing past – striding through the parking lot towards the sidewalk – avoiding the lamp lights and whistling an ominous, familiar tune.

-

-

The night passed uneventfully – to Seth's great contentment. However, lying there in bed, his mind wandered to the things his mother had said. At first, when he strode into the house and went to his room, the man had yanked the phone from the wall. Sitting on his lumpy, worn mattress in thought for a few hours, Seth plugged it in again – not sure what he was hoping for.

There were no calls.

No attempted apologies or the usual conversation openers like, "We need to talk", or "About what happened today". Seth had come to expect these so often from his mother, he shifted where he lay uncomfortably in worried thought. He would give in to her ranting now, if he knew where she was and with whom.

Still, the phone remained silent.

The night passed slowly and daylight came too quick. Seth lay half-dozing with red shot eyes half open when a sharp call seemed to nudge his heart and tell his body to take action. On the second ring, Seth was up and diving for the floor where the old-fashioned dial-spin phone rested. Bare arms burning against the old, rough rug splayed across his floor, Seth barely raised the mouthpiece before demanding earnestly, "Hello? Ma?"

A distinct grunt and muffled curse came from the other end, and Seth relaxed with an irritable sigh. Karse must have heard it, because he boomed into the phone, "What? No hellos?! What's the matter with you?!"

"Nothing," muttered the youth, sitting up stiffly now. Hours without movement made his limbs shake with effort. Ignoring the growing joint pain, Seth continued, "I was…just expecting someone."

Karse must have taken Seth's past stories of family reunions into account, because the detective stated in a calmer, quieter tone, "I thought we'd meet up today and discuss what we're doing…"

Pushing himself to his feet with one hand, carrying the phone and the other holding the receiver, Seth headed for his bathroom across the hall as he replied, "Yeah, sure, whatever; anything to get this moving along." Letting the water at the sink run until it was warm, the youth listened to Karse rant about his demanding children and the screwed up family dinner he'd been forced to go to for Christmas evening.

It was the same story every year for Karse. The only difference between him and Seth was that Seth seemed to gain twelve cousins every year. He was damned if he didn't know their names upon family gatherings.

When Karse paused for breath, Seth seized the opportunity with toothbrush in mouth, proclaiming, "Karse, bitch about your family another time, and tell me why you called."

There came a long, hesitant pause from the other end, and Seth couldn't help sighing and rolling his eyes. Evidently, his partner had to consider the question before answering. Finally, the replay came back as; "…That was why."

Irritated now, Seth held the phone in an iron grip, stating clearly and flatly, "Meet me at the Gamer's Store." Clicking off the man's protests, Seth tossed the phone on its holder to one side on the counter. Spitting what he hadn't swallowed of the toothpaste, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned towards his room.

It would be a long few days ahead of him, Seth knew, and his partner wasn't making matters any easier. At least though, they could move on with Seth's plans and see where they took them. Karse had greatly protested them at first, but when Seth asked him for a better plan, the man could offer up nothing and remained quiet about it since.

With a grunt and sigh, Seth dropped to his knees heavily, and using strong hands and muscled arms to support his weight, peering beneath the bed into the shadows. Reaching out a hand, he groped on the wooden planks he hadn't been able to afford to cover with carpet. After a couple minutes of searching, Seth peered under again.

Concluding he couldn't make out the notebook from the various other lumps beneath his nest, Seth stood and headed for the kitchen. Coming back with a flashlight, he clicked it on.

Nothing happened.

Smacking it against his hand, and then the wall, and finally his bedroom doorknob, Seth watched the side panel give way to reveal an empty battery cartridge. Striding back into the kitchen, he began pulling open half empty drawers, searching for batteries. He stopped halfway down a column of them as his eyes strayed to the broomstick resting unused against the refrigerator side.

Letting the flashlight drop into the open drawer that threatened to fall loose, he snatched up the broom in his hand and strode back down the hall. In his room, he kneeled down once more and pushed the handle beneath the bed. With a great swing, he thrust the items resting there to the side from out underneath. The clatter of hard objects smacking against the wall caused him to sit up, abandoning his retrieval tool. Moving to the end of the bed, he picked through the pile of papers, boxes, notebooks, and various items like broken fans and entertainment equipment, and crusted pans.

It was only after he checked underneath the empty bed again that Seth realized the notebook wasn't there.

-

-

Standing uncomfortably against one of the tables covered in plastic terrain prop pieces at the Gamer's Store, Karse peered uneasily around him. The joyful banter shared amongst gamers lay beyond his reach, and his presence seemed to draw unsure stares and disapproving looks from the clerk.

When about half an hour passed, the balding man strode around the counter as a couple of customers headed for the door with plastic bags in hands, and approached Karse. The officer already knew what he would say, but waited for the clerk to speak first nonetheless.

In a quiet, but flat tone, Basch stated, "Sir, if you're not going to buy anything, or participate in any events, I would appreciate you leaving. You're scattering my customers."

Opening the side of his trench coat to reveal the badge pinned there, Karse told the owner in a firm, unwavering voice, "I'm a homicide detective. I'm here waiting for my partner. You most likely know him – Seth Yimir?"

At this, Basch eyed the man unsurely. He had heard of Seth's partner from the vague tales his best customer had told him, but had never met the man face-to-face. After a minute, the storeowner relaxed, and nodding, strode back towards the counter without another word.

The jingle of the glass doorbells made Karse look up hopefully. He began to relax at the familiar form of his partner. His hopes fell at the hard look plastered on Seth's face, and the heated stroke of each stride. Unfolding his arms and straightening, Karse strode to meet the man with a concerned look.

"What? What's the matter?" Shaking his head irritably, Seth muttered a few curses beneath his breath. In a more urgent tone, Karse demanded, "What is it?"

Seeming to calm at the familiar voice, Seth raised his piercing eyes. At this, the aging man took a half step back. Though this would normally bother him, Seth let it pass for now. Sighing, and rubbing his temples with the thumb and index finger of one hand, Seth replied, "The notebook Basch gave me is gone." At the questionable look Karse gave him, he added exasperatedly, "The one with the names of the victims!"

Eyeing him, Karse stated firmly, "Tell me what that has to do with anything. Forensics told us their names."

Nodding, Seth slipped onto a stool at a table, folding his hands together on the edge, examining the items displayed before him with no real interest. "Scouring the names briefly, I saw that each of them came here on the day they were killed. Basch said they were meeting someone – a cloaked man."

Leaning towards him seriously with elbows resting on the metal table edge, Basch prompted, "Was his name in the book as well?"

Shaking his head, Seth replied, "Not as far as I know. Basch never saw him come in, and never saw him leave. Never stayed more than a few minutes either."

Nodding as he took in this information, Karse noted, "So this guy was setting up meetings."

"With F-F seven fans – as you yourself saw. This just makes my plan more likely to work. We leave a flyer with my information here, and that man – our killer – will see it and try to contact me to set up a meeting."

"What if he knows who you are?"

Shrugging at this, Seth replied, "Then we will recruit a willing person to attempt this instead."

"You want to endanger another person's life?" Karse snapped incredulously, pushing away from the table. "Are you crazy?!"

Shaking his head, Seth noted, "We'll be right outside the only entrance. They'll have to come out together, and that's when we get him. We could even try following him to wherever he brings me, or this other person."

As the sense of the plan began to form in his mind, Karse knew it was useless to attempt arguing with Seth. It was the best shot they had now. There were too many coincidences to overlook, and it was their only hope of finding out more about the killer, the case, and the victims.

Sighing, Karse turned back to Seth with hands on her hips, and raised eyebrows, saying, "You know this is crazy, right?"

A slow grin came over Seth's features as he realized that Karse had already given in to his plan. "Yeah…I know."

-

-

Once the flyer was made with a scanned photo of Seth, and printed out from the local library, the detectives returned to the store. After explaining the plan to Basch, the storeowner reluctantly gave in with a sigh, and told them they could tape the poster to the inside of the glass front window. After it was secured, Seth stared at the back of it for a long moment. The flyer listed his name and phone number. Beneath this and the photo, it read:

Fan to Final Fantasy VII? Want news on the Cloning case, or just wish to find others who are interested about this historical piece of information surrounding the game series? Then give me a call to come to the meetings held every week.

"Do you think this will work?"

Attention drawn back, Seth turned to Karse with an honest shrug, saying, "Probably, but who knows? One step at a time. Have you interviewed the latest victim's family?"

At this, Karse frowned, and shook his head, stating simply, "Grieving time."

Considering this, Seth nodded in understanding. "That's fine. There probably isn't much that they could tell us anyways. We have a plan in place – that's more than anyone could have hoped for at this stage of things."

From here, they parted ways, paying their respects to Basch.

-

-

With no case to worry over for a few presumed days, Seth went about his usual lifestyle that seemed so old and unfamiliar to him now – as if he hadn't been watching TV or video game testing in months. It was amazing how easily he had fallen back into the old ways – amazing and a little scary. He had broken away from that lifestyle for a good reason, after all; one which he didn't wish to simply forget in a week.

Despite his best attempts, Seth couldn't stray his mind from the case. He couldn't concentrate on his work, and every time he turned on the TV, it seemed that it always landed on talks about the Cloning deaths. He had even called up the mortuary several times, but the resulting deaths of the bodies were all the same. There was no new information to gather from there.

On the third afternoon following the posting of the flyer, Seth lay sprawled on his bed with the covers half wrapped around his legs – staring up at the ceiling with a blank, bored expression. A sharp sound interrupted his senses, and Seth narrowed his brow in confused thought as he attempted to interpret it.

When Seth realized it was his phone ringing, he pushed himself up just as it stopped. He half expected it to be Karse, but then his mind strayed to his poster. When it didn't ring again, he curled up away from it on his side with a sigh. Just as Seth pulled the blankets halfway up over him, the sharp ringing began again.

This time, Seth didn't hesitate before diving over the side, and stretching his arm out. Instead of grasping the receiver, it went cascading. Silence came from the earpiece, but there was someone on the other side. Pulling on the curled chord, it straining with each yank, Seth stretched his hands towards it. Finally grasping the receiver, he thrust it up against his ear with a sharp twinge of pain, saying in an exhausted, hurried tone, "Hello?"

Silence came from the other side for a minute, before a deep, calm voice stated, "Seth Yimir." It wasn't a question.

Seth half wished he had set up a tracker to the line, but it probably wouldn't have done much good. No doubt the man was calling from a payphone. Even if Seth arrived at the scene, he would be long gone. It'd be different if he could send Karse out where the man was calling from.

"This is him. Are you calling about the Final Fantasy seven meetings?"

"I wanted to speak with you concerning that. In person, that is."

Considering this, Seth gave a silent cheer to himself. His ploy had worked, or so far at least. Giving an unseen nod, Seth seemed to consider this, before replying, "Where then? At the Gamer's Store?"

There was a hesitance from the other side, and Seth was afraid he was going to lose this chance. Then the answer came back evenly, "Arrive there at seven tonight. I will meet you there."

Before Seth could say a word, there was a click from the other end. Letting the receiver drop into position, Seth felt a smirk spread over his face. Letting the feeling of satisfaction filter into him, he picked it up, and began dialing again.

-

-

Seated in his Cruiser, parked near the curb on the street opposite of the Gamer's Store, Karse bit into his sub as he watched Seth casually stride into the place. The door closed behind him with a flicker of his trench coat. Karse knew it would be mere minutes before the killer arrived.

Standing in the obscure corner of the store, Seth leaned carefully against the side of one of the stands of books. He cast his gaze down the aisle in the direction that his visitor would most likely come down. Seth had informed Basch of this step of the plan, and the balding man had retreated quietly into the back of the store after dismissing the customers gathered within the building.

As the minutes ticked by, Seth continued to glance at his watch. He had arrived ten minutes before seven. It was now five of. After twenty minutes passed and the man didn't appear, Basch poked his head in around the side of the back door. Peering over at Seth standing alone, he opened it wider. With one hand on the knob, he asked, "Still hasn't arrived?"

Sighing and shaking his head, Seth straightened from his stiff position. Rolling his shoulders to free them of the tension, he replied, "Nope. I'm thinking about calling it a lost cause."

"I'll let you know if anything happens."

Thanking the storeowner and bidding him farewell with the best intentions, Seth headed out of the building. Pulling his coat around him tighter, his eyes strayed to the black PT Cruiser. Waiting for a break in daily traffic, he hurried across the street. Seth's footsteps strayed as he peered into the driver window. Pressing his face against it, his suspicions were confirmed when he found it empty. Karse wasn't there. Pulling on the handle, he found it unlocked. Peering inside, he noticed the keys still in the ignition, but the car was off. Placing his hand on the heater, it warmed his palm and fingertips. He had left the car recently.

Waiting around for another twenty minutes brought no change. Checking the local stores did him no good, and Seth grew fearful and anxious for his partner. With nothing left to do, Seth headed the few blocks home. Once again, the parking lot was nearly empty – the broken lamplight still buzzing.

Stepping up the stairs one at a time – with a huff and hunched shoulders, and breathing a little heavily – Seth's mind was filled with dread. His feet came to a hard stop at the top of the stairs as the view of his door being partly opened, hit him hard. Hand straying to the gun at his side, Seth clasped the handle firmly and began to slowly withdraw it.

Inching his way towards the door, he pressed his back against it gently, peering into the shadows of his home. A faint light came from the kitchen. Pausing halfway over the threshold, Seth strained to pick up any sounds. After a couple of minutes drifted by in silence, he pushed his way slowly and surely inside – heading for the kitchen.

The refrigerator door stood ajar – the light emanating from it casting an eerie glow upon the walls and floor. Half expecting to see another cloaked figure standing behind it, Seth held the gun in both hands before him now as he stepped carefully around to peer at the front. As he drew closer to peer into the fridge's depths, his arms began to shake and his eyes widened as far as his bone structured allowed them to. Red spread over the pale white interior of the fridge was illumined brightly from the small, yellow lighting.

The clean-cut head of Bernice Yimir stared with wide eyes at her son, mouth open, frozen in a silent scream of terror.