Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and following this story! A special thank you to Cherylann Rivers, max2013, BMSH, and EvergreenDreamweaver for your reviews on the last chapter. I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me what you think or try to figure out pieces of the mystery. Each review always makes my day!

Chapter V

Fifteen years earlier

Carson surveyed the room before he entered it. The body had been removed, with the police leaving only a chalk outline of where it had lain. The two detectives, Hardy and Johnson, had told him that they and the other detectives on the case had already gone over the room, but Carson had thought it would be helpful to have a look at the crime scene himself.

It was a shabby, practically empty room. The old-fashioned wallpaper was peeling off the wall and there was a fireplace opposite the door. The floor around where the body had been was stained dark red. The letters that the detectives had told him about – RACHE – were written on the wall to the left of the door. Carson stepped closer to it to look at it.

"It doesn't look like blood," Carson commented.

"We took a sample of it earlier," Hardy told him. "We're still waiting for the lab results on it, but I'm positive it's not blood."

"What about on the floor?" Carson asked. "I thought you said that Matthias had been poisoned."

"Probably," Hardy said. "At any rate, there wasn't a scratch on him."

"I thought you said you read the book." Johnson folded his arms importantly. "The victim was poisoned in the book and the blood belonged to the murderer."

"It will be interesting to see the lab results on that," Carson replied. "I doubt the murderer planned on getting hurt and especially not on losing that much blood."

"True," Hardy agreed. "He could have brought blood or even something else altogether for his purposes. Like I said, the whole thing is very theatrical. Whoever did this thinks they're an artist, and that smells of serial killer."

"Why would a serial killer take on a mobster?" Carson had his doubts. "You said something about a wedding ring."

"We sent that to the lab, too," Fenton said. "It was just a simple woman's wedding ring. Single diamond, gold band, size six or seven, I'd say. It was lying on the floor right about here." He pointed the spot out. "It could have just been a prop to keep up the whole Study in Scarlet theme, or it could have some actual significance to the case. We just don't know."

"Matthias just got out of jail, right?" Carson asked.

Johnson nodded. "A month ago on parole. We've got people already checking up on his whereabouts since he got out."

"Sounds like you've got things pretty well covered," Carson said. "I'm not sure what you need me for."

"We'll find a use for you," Hardy assured him. "For now, I spent half the night in this dingy old place, and I've spent all morning talking to the big brass, labs, lawyers, and the reporters that I couldn't avoid. What say we go get a cup of coffee while we throw around some ideas for what steps Carson should take next?"

"Sounds good to me," Johnson agreed.

Carson also had no objection and before long the three of them were sitting around a table in a small coffee shop. Hardy and Johnson, however, seemed to have no interest whatsoever in talking about the case.

"So you're interning with the DA," Hardy commented. "That's not a bad internship. When did you graduate from law school?"

"Just about a year ago," Carson explained. "I've had this internship since then, pretty much."

"Must have been top of your class to land that." Johnson grinned as he lifted his coffee mug to his mouth.

"I wouldn't say that," Carson protested.

"Then where were you in your class?" Johnson asked.

"Seven out of eighty students," Carson said.

"I'd call that top of the class," Johnson replied. "I mean, you guys have to be dedicated to get through law school. Dedicated and smart. Heck, even being eightieth out of eighty students isn't bad when you take into consideration that just sticking to it more than an ordinary person could do."

"It's not that bad," Carson told him. "Besides that, I had a lot of support. The first few years, my sister let me stay with her rent-free and even helped me pay for school. And then of course, my wife Kate's been more than supportive this whole time."

"How long have you been married?" Hardy asked.

"Four years," Carson replied. "You've been dating since high school, though."

"High school sweetheart, huh?" Johnson commented. "You're lucky. I had this amazing girl in high school, but then she dumped me as soon as went to college."

"College sure taught her a lot in a hurry," Hardy joked. "What about your parents, Carson? You didn't mention them."

"Um, yeah." Carson hid his expression behind his coffee cup. "My dad died when I was in high school. Heart attack. My mom already had cancer at the time and she died a couple years later."

"I'm sorry." Hardy sounded sincere. "I didn't mean to be insensitive."

Johnson shook his head. "Sometimes it surprises me that you can actually carry out an investigation without making a huge mess of it. Of course, you've got me to watch your back."

"Careful, there," Hardy replied. "Remember I'm your superior officer now."

"What about you two?" Carson asked. "Are either of you married?"

"That's a negative on my account," Johnson told him. "You're talking to a confirmed bachelor here. I like being able to stay up all night playing poker with the guys or have my feet up on the furniture while I watch TV and eat nothing but carbs."

Hardy shook his head. "I keep telling him he's not going to live too long if he keeps up like that. As for me, I'm married to the most amazing woman in the world, Laura. I know every guy says that, but for me it's really true. We've got two boys – Frank, who's three, and Joe, who's almost two."

"We have a three-year-old, Nancy," Carson said, "and there's a second one on the way."

"Congratulations," Hardy told him. "How soon?"

"Five more months," Carson replied.

"I hope you can get an actual job by then," Johnson commented. "I hear kids can be pretty spendy."

"It's not too bad while they're little," Carson said. "But I will have an actual job, thank you very much. A friend of my dad's back home is a lawyer and offered me a place in his firm."

"That sounds like a good option," Hardy commented. "Where's home?"

"River Heights. It's near Chicago." Carson eyed the detectives suspiciously. "Why do I feel like I'm getting interrogated?"

"Told you you were obvious, Fenton," Johnson said.

"It's always a good idea to know who you're going to be working with," Hardy added after shaking his head at Johnson. "You can learn a lot about a person by asking them about their family and all of that."

"Oh? What did you learn about me?" Carson asked.

"That I think you're going to be a big help in this investigation," Hardy replied seriously. "Now that that's sorted out, let's talk about this case. There's going to be a lot of leg work involved running down the clues we have so far. The biggest things are the ring and the poison. We should be able to trace where those were bought at."

"We could get to work on the ring right away," Carson said. "Do you have pictures of it?"

"Right here." Hardy pulled a couple of photographs out of his pocket and handed them to Carson. "How do you feel about starting in on making the rounds of the jewelry stores in the area with those pictures?"

"Sounds fine to me," Carson replied.

Hardy handed him a list of the stores. "These are the best ones to check out. There are some pawn shops on there, too. If the guy was just looking for a prop, he'd probably go cheap. Any stores that aren't on this list, I'll have some of my men check out. This should keep you busy for the rest of the day, though."

"What are you going to be doing?" Carson asked.

"Sleeping." Hardy held the back of his hand over his mouth as he yawned. "I wasn't kidding when I said I was up half the night investigating. If you get into any trouble, though, you can reach me at this number."

NDNDNDNDND

By two o'clock, Carson had been to most of the stores on the list. None of the jewelry stores carried that exact ring, nor did any of them have a record of having it made to order. None of the pawn shops recognized it. There was only one more pawn shop on the list, and since it was in the area, Carson decided to try it next.

It was a sleazy, cluttered place with unswept floors and dust collecting on the items on the shelves. The girl at the front counter matched it perfectly with her thin, frizzy hair, sloppily-applied make-up, and grease-stained shirt that still had crumbs on it from lunch.

"Excuse me," Carson said, stepping up to the counter.

"Yeah? Whaddya want?" the girl asked in a tired, annoyed voice.

"I was wondering if you could tell me if you recognize this ring." Carson took the picture from his pocket and laid it on the counter, avoiding placing it in a puddle of some dark liquid.

"Is it stolen or something?" The girl didn't even bother looking at the picture. "We don't deal in stolen goods. We may not be a high-class joint, but we're no fence."

"I'm sure," Carson said calmly. "I'm just trying to find out where it was purchased. That's all."

The girl finally picked up the picture. As soon as she saw it, she straightened up in surprise. "Hey, where'd you get this?"

"Never mind," Carson replied. "Do you recognize it?"

"Recognize it?" The girl practically snorted in contempt. "I should say so. That's my wedding ring."

Present day

A board creaking in the hallway interrupted Carson's thoughts. It was really a quiet sound, but in the middle of the night it seemed loud. Carson glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. 1:24. He wondered whether it was Nancy or Hannah who was up and walking around this late at night.

He rubbed his eyes, wishing that he could get to sleep. The more he wanted that case to be put in the past where it belonged, the more it seemed to haunt him and to replay in his mind's eye. There had to be some way to get past it. He would just have to think about something else.

Trying to think of something else was almost as bad as thinking about it. Everything went back to it, and Carson felt like he was fighting a losing battle. Finally, he tossed the sheets away. If he couldn't sleep, at least he wouldn't lie in bed all night with just those memories to keep him company. He would go downstairs and turn on the TV. Maybe there would be something on that would distract him. Maybe he would even doze off. An armchair wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but it was better than nothing.

He was reaching under his bed, fishing for his slippers, when someone knocked on his door softly. "Dad?" he heard Nancy say.

"What is it, Nancy?" he asked.

"Dad, something bad has happened."