Chapter 8. Cut Off

Past midday. What is the correct reserved area for a crime scene? It depends on: the type of crime, the place, the proximity to a high traffic environment. The seemingly unplayful female argued that drawing the tape around any entrance into the main University building would be the best. At first, the officers pushed back against it, saying that a sole death does not warrant it. That changed after finding their female colleague lifeless within said building. When someone is in an occupation surrounded by a tangible chance of death, seeing one of your own, even with several issues, succumb to it demoralizes everyone to a different extent. Naturally, Chloe felt severe sorrow after seeing such a travesty. She walked over to a window, planted her feet harshly into the ground; the stance possibly imprinted an idea of sturdy legs.

"I told her to monitor the premise. Not go in it."

Predictably, a countermove presents itself within the mind. The chance of yesterday's killers being here were extremely small. Coming back at it was the fact that critical thinking should have prevailed over optimistic assumptions.

"We weren't dealing with simple criminals."

A deep exhale presents itself; lips splitting off in opposite directions. The rawness, freshness of fatality and/or its implications at one's own life limits the chances of coping with the negative emotional stream.

"I need to recompose myself."

The female swiftly darts her head to the stairs behind her; blonde hair fiercely smack to the covered shoulders' back. It is at that moment a pseudo-solution arises. The mind tries to enforce an idea over the will to act which, to some, might sound counterintuitive. A lustful moist of the lips by the tongue more than likely points towards a cigarette being the end goal or quickly constructed salvation.

[At another zone in the building]

Blood – a core element of a functioning Human body whose explicit appearance startles the vast majority of people. Its effectiveness in grabbing one's attention is directly tied to the quantity: the more is shown, the more captivating the sight becomes. Said vibrant red liquid in lighting quick speed leads to the idea of injury; thus, the prospect of death soars out of subconsciousness. Favorably for the Special Agent, the situation appeared to transition into a static state.

"Do you think he saw the arrows?" – a standing male officer asks.

"Judging by the way he's lying…"

The crouching, investigating female turns her head to face said person.

"…and the speed the arrows had to be shot to cause this injury, I'd argue he just managed to turn to the origin, but the mind failed to process its identity."

"He just knew something bad was coming at him?"

"So it seems." – Kirby answers calmly, stoically.

[…]

Where an FBI agent is trained to deal with the gruesome, filthy, discouraging aspects of Humanity, a civilian, much less a late teen, feels disharmony at a prevalent rate; also, a similar reoccurrence can be troublesome: encourage to build character, discourage from personal progression, stagnate the mind to constant unnecessary strain.

"Babe…"

Suddenly, a female's eyelids shoot up; a first impression from the side alludes to a certain marvel of the surroundings. Maybe the gravitas of what's around is a supplementary layer over an attention return to the current time.

"Yeah, Ani?"

The native settler slowly extends her left hand; it is first observed, the impression is converted into an idea that culminates in 2 left hands joining together.

"How deep is your wound?"

The tone is so compassionate, smooth, yet fragile that it might as well bridge the females' hearts together. In a way, now their dually bonded.

"You want to know how long this phenomena has haunted me?"

"Yes. I'm almost guaranteed that you've experienced something before last year's events."

"You'd be correct, babe."

The harnessed bond evokes a large amount of warmth which allows for a deep, inside based dialogue. Their eyes are locked on each other; barely any attention is paid anything else.

"Hah!"

An unprecedented smile appears and rapidly evaporates.

"The birth of this serial killer like cult hit my family at its roots."

Mindy's eyes begin to narrow, hints of tears appear in both eyes.

"My uncle – Randy Meeks – got gutted…"

Tears blast out, voice heightens and a sort of tremble posture surfaces.

"…and spliced up by a couple of insane people, wearing those infamous masks."

Safe to say, Annika receives a broader picture of what Ghostface has put her girlfriend through. The mentioned person takes the free palm to wipe away the tears.

"You know what's worse? That he had the same passion for horror movies as I did. He loved them. Which means I would've had a much greater teenage experience with him alive."

A deep breath is taken; their hands separate by her incentive.

"They robbed me of so many glorious moments, Annika."

The return to a significantly calmer, rational, forward thinking state of mind is notified.

"Well then lets not let them rob Tara of a special person in her life."

A nod is enacted before the female duo embrace in a tight hug; both beings emotions dive into a spiral carousel with a goal to steady their minds. Their task seems hard enough as it is.

Meanwhile at the station. For as long as I can recall, 'Protect & serve' was the moto of the police force. Taking everything about yesterday's evening into consideration, the former action is quite vulnerable. Detective Bailey hoped for any sort of unorthodox thrust that could propel him & Fortune to a much more favorable position.

Luckily for the detective, one of the officer confidently, vigorously shouts:

"Bailey!"

"Yeah."

A sprint to the addressing person.

"We've got a call from a civilian about 2 men fleeing Blackmore 20-30 minutes ago."

"Interesting, Noah. What did tell the civilian?"

"That I'd get a detective on the case for a double take on the statement."

Erik shows a genuine smile of appreciation.

"Well done."

[In the main building]

SA Reed dived into a sea of sympathy. For a few years, the blonde haired, traumatized in her teen years female separated crimes into 2 categories: plain/ordinary and disturbing/unordinary. The latter is vastly more frequent than the former. The victims of the unforeseen callousness usually left Kirby's heart sore, no matter from what direction she approached the resolved scenario. Soon, a police officer emerges in her hand reach.

"As far as I can gather, he was stunned by the arrow shot."

"Understandable. Who would assume such an attack at any university?"

The duo walk back to the invisible road from the staircase.

"For me, all of this seems to be… something more elaborate."

"What of that something?"

The FBI agent looks behind her, the sight is encouraging. Main reason – Mindy & Annika look to be fiercely determined once again.

"3 bodies."

The female points to their spots.

"All spread out across a significant distance."

"If there were 2 killers, couldn't they have moved them there?"

"Extremely unlikely. Two of them appear opportunistic, sudden, when one hints at a fair struggle."

"So where does that leave us?"

The four investigators, in terms of factual action, not occupation, notice the striding in reserved, leading female detective.

"2 theories come to my mind."

"Fine. Lay them out."

Kirby chooses to wait for the even more closing in Chloe. About a minute passes.

"So…"

"Either he was the intended target and the killer achieved his goal."

"Or."

"Or he just happened to be the unlucky one."

Somehow, this inspires the straight haired blonde to enhance the details of this event.

"Let's get on top of his value."

She looks up to the middle part of the staircase.

"Hector."

A police officer stand up.

"Yes, Chloe."

"How many different pairs of shoes?"

"Two. We've identified one to be the one whose laying on the ground."

"And the other?"

"Stop at pretty much where I'm standing and then go back up the stairs."

"Okay. Tape around them, so we don't damage any evidence. We'll be coming up."

"Understood."

Judging how many bodies, how many possible scenarios, the constantly shrinking time of finding Sam Carpenter alive, the detective is acting quite proficiently. That being said, it is obvious to all four females that what recently transpired will bread complexity.

Post-13:00. Sunday, day before Halloween, one of the biggest cities in the USA – these factors point to traffic being quite thick at this moment in time. Almost everybody hates traffic jams; the rage that comes with it can be extraordinary. Yet, Detective Bailey, mostly experiencing harmony, pulls in a parallel parking position and looks around the street.

"Should be here or hereabouts."

[Nearby]

"He is most assuredly him." – Hailee settles on, a bit of reluctance gliding within the psyche.

The emotion manifests unconsciously; the mind failing to register its origin. In a way, this action is a micro example of the person-society duality.

[From the public servant's perspective]

The number of people on the sidewalk with scary costumes is extensive, substantial; the variety is welcome, too. Still, Bailey fiercely, confidently walks some distance examining everybody.

"Could it really be a prank?"

The faintly entertained possibility evaporates in seconds when a young female is seen, leaning charmingly into the a building's wall. Of course, the male rapidly engraves 'schemer' as a trait of her. Such an action could be a hindrance towards creating a stable bridge between them.

"You must be Hailee?"

"That I am."

Her voice – stern, deliberately cold; because of that, the detective's trust in the current plan rises. How did the concerned, proactive female present herself this day? Light blue jeans, white blouse with an arguably deep cut, black leather jacket hugging the shoulders.

"I'm confused."

Tension makes its presence known.

"About what?"

"Why did the other police officer make me wait for your arrival? It's a waste of time for both me and you detective."

The investigator semi-noticeably reanalyzes the surroundings.

"Because your information could tie itself to…"

Bailey bites his lip.

"To what?"

"To keep everything stable – an intensely deadly game."

The blonde female's emotional sphere submerges in disfunction; case in point – apprehensiveness clashing with the confidence leading up to this conversation. One would expend massive quantities of energy just to pinpoint which of them is the dominant at any particular moment. Could this have been avoided? No doubt. Yet, a fearlessly perceptive gambler can find himself/herself in a position where the negative bet's depth shatters expectation. Add more negativity on top and marvel at how the gradient of it creates another sucker punch.

"Listen, Hailee, us standing here…"

After a while, they stare at each other directly again.

"…is all but cons."

"I don't want to go to the precinct. I haven't committed any crime." – she quickly retorts defiantly, yet monotonically, consistently.

"That is true. But whoever you saw leaving the University are playing in a scenario where it can all end…"

The male snaps his fingers.

"…in a flash. This scenario includes you."

"I'd keep my distance from them if I ever saw them again."

"You don't see the full picture, Hailee. It's not only you 3 that are possible victims of these killers. The stakes… are enormous."

Surprisingly, the ending's intonation pivots the dial of success into the green sector. In a couple of minutes, Detective Bailey seats the civilian in his vehicle & they leave for HQ. Understandably, Angeline's overseen young lady ponders about the future, the priority landing with the fleeing duo. Conflicted – best word for the overview. On one hand, disdain, anger vibrated from the condescending, vigorous, unrelenting verbal exchange in the basement yesterday. On the other hand, admiration, appreciation, value spread for the straightforwardness, courage in one's convictions. Only for a glimpse the female entertained the idea that Angeline had a devious, malicious attack aimed at one, two or all three from a past event. Thereby. she desired a specific point of view, so that there would be no push back.

Tracing back to the gravely concerned young adults.

"SHHHHH!"

The sound of boiling water leaving the kettle has an indifferent effect on a particular 20 year old female. Needles to say, the person's value fields are spontaneous, vibrant as they are.

"Tara."

She shifts her face at the instinctively traced arriver. In a somewhat unorthodox manner, the arriver rapidly, hastily closes the distance between them. This triggers an inner dispense of primary intentions for both.

"I'm handling it, Chad."

Rather than replying instantly, especially to her face, the male takes the shrewd, furtive, most importantly – risky, approach. How? He stays silent and slowly inches his palm over and around hers.

"I didn't say I doubt you,…"

Que the risky part.

… Babe."

Intuitively assessing the situation, the younger Carpenter sister dives into her selfhood & just allows a spontaneity to become the dominant force within the conscious. The 1st action – showing a sheepish smile, locking onto the tea filled cup.

"Hah! Where is this coming from?"

Crucially, their palms remain brushing together.

"If I had to bet…"

Tara darts her eyes back at him.

"…Yeah?"

"It would be the fact that there is less time for golden times."

Their eyes collide; completely separate emotions are pushes forward: the male adopts casualness, the female – fiery activeness. Then there is the fact that both sex representatives hide passion behind their shown expression. People continue to walk along the corridor, keeping their noses to themselves.

"Especially when you can lose something you can't get back."

Tenderness, genuine care arises within her voice.

"That would make stalling really cowardly."

"And risking it a wonderful action."

They eye each other for just a bit more before Chad leans in closer to Tara and the duo share a gentle, raw kiss. This, more often than not, explodes positivity within both participants' psyches.

"It's good that you didn't wait longer." – the 20 year old says, still ecstatic from the intimate act.

"Could've really lost you."

"And you really don't want that?"

"Hell no."

A playful grin comes to fruition.

"Great play,… My Champ."

Predictably, the duo allow themselves to remain in wonderland as much as possible. In time, their mind will reel them back into the grim reality they find themselves this Sunday. Yet, for now the new relationship level achievers experience sublime pleasure in this finite, rare moment of life.

[…]

"…so there are more people from here to the 2nd floor?"

"Correct."

Hector gets back to a normal stance and leads the visible part of the trail with his eyes.

"We'll get prints of the handle. That'll tell us who opened the door." – Mindy says.

"True…"

The FBI Agent judges every prevalent detail; some are checked out further.

"… The crucial part is – why were all of them here on a Sunday morning? What drove them here?"

Suddenly, the female detective carefully opens the sole table's in the room top drawer. The sight – overwhelmingly positive.

"I think I've found the answer."

The other blonde makes her way to the table.

"A list of names?" – she inquires whisperingly.

"Probably, a special one."

"It had this booklet type of attachment on it?"

"Yeah."

The stoic lady opens the inner side and swiftly pins onto two words. The specific writing shift, font, placement – all of this information clearly aids the understanding of how this tragic event came to be.

"We need to take this back to the base."

As if right on que, someone's phone rings.

Still traditional dinner time. After feeling a rush of emotions, positive or negative, a cooling down period seems inevitable to all Humans. Logically, this understanding is the least foreign to self-conscious people.

"At least it's not raining." – Viktor says, middle of foot hard pressed into a side of bench, take out cup in hand.

"Now that may be unbearable. I already feel as if we're in a horror show…"

A sip, deep breath is taken before continuing.

"…Adding rain, it would just solidify that."

"We can' be genuine if we don't recognize the major threat that this killer poses."

"Unclear of numbers."

The other male acquires some liquid from his cup.

"That is why we got to move quick."

Adam ponders for a few seconds.

"I hear ya, man."

He stands up from the mentioned bench.

"I've got the list."

They begin to walk down the street.

"With privacy so on the low & social media, need for validation so on the high, we should be able to find somebody in time."

"You know we're betting, right? The police might be finished of running our cars plates."

"Oh yeah."

He shows an ironic grin.

"None of this is without tremendous risk."

A mostly nugatory timeframe brushes past. It is the requirement for making way to a street crossing. Yes, both males harbor some distaste, displeasure towards the World; to them, it had unwisely let them stranded. On the bright side, the sky – clear, a massive clouds void.

Suddenly, the list holder's mobile rings. Knowing the current predicament, seeing the addresser could not have been dismissed.

"Hey, sis."

"Hey, bro."

A bending sound comes through device.

"You've been proactive today."

"Hah!.."

A bright, ironic grin manifests itself.

"…You saying that means you know something that I think you don't."

"Still perceptive."

"One's got to be when dealing with so many enemies."

A small pause.

"It's about my friend from the diner."

"What about her? Be direct, Monica. I'm in a hurry as is." – Adam expresses stoically.

"To my assessment, her intentions are self-conflicting. An ulterior agenda is hiding beneath the concerned façade."

"Go on."

"She may be hostile towards you."

Adam notes the tone shift. A hint of dread enters the main lane where confidence, concern & stridency reside.

"I'll keep that in mind. Though,… as you probably already know, she is not the main threat."

"Oh yes. Your chaotic encounter at Blackmore has shot you into infamous skies."

"Glad we agree. Anything else, sister?"

"Be careful, Adam, and be able to see the grander picture at key times."

"Bye, Monica. I hope this is not our last call."

"Make sure of that."

The line goes dead.

Not drastically later. Only the gold dust in the sand cope with high stakes unemotionally; one would not come across one right now in a bizarrely small room within the police precinct.

"…So you realize what you've done?" – a person inquires, dumbfound look being presented explicitly.

"Yeah. Brought another aid onto the case."

"There is already enough of them!"

Does the addressed retreat? A little. A raw, genuine outburst of frustration causes something of the sort. In the coming moments, one tries to recompose one's emotional sphere as best they can while the other leaps towards the foundation of moving to a level where the abducting/murdering can end.

"I feel your despair for being apart in officer Longnight's death."

The investigator takes a firm step forward.

"Though you must remain rational, Chloe, if we're to trample Ghostface & his scheme."

The female detective mistrustingly, indefinitely looks up into her colleague's eyes. Whether sensible or far reaching to some, Erik penetrates through her blue eyes and constructs a unique conclusion within the mental plane. The image – a young girl afraid of the inevitable, downbeat aspects of life.

"I believe we still have time to save Mis Carpenter."

The calming voice bridges the duo enough.

"What makes you so certain of it?"

"The mere fact that somebody abducted her. Usually, you do not go through with that if there is no grander scheme in mind."

"We're still not clear on it, Erik."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I wasn't that obtrusive to Hailee joining this investigation. The principles that govern our jobs are well for typicalness, normalcy; they lack in specificness."

"I can see that."

The blonde enacts a small breathing cycle.

"Our direction must remain strong."

"Agreed."

They nod to each other.

"By adding more people, we add more minds. More minds – more chance of seeing the masterplan."

In a walking motion towards the door, both hear someone rushing near the door from the other side.

"I've got good news and great news." – Jeff explains his reason for arriving in such a manner as soon as Mis Fortune allows air to circulate between the hallway and the small room.

"Let's start with the good." – Erik intervenes.

"We've found the match on that car in the parking lot. It is registered to a guy name Adam who is on the list that Chloe & co. got back from Blackmore."

"So what can possibly be better than that?"

"He was spotted just a couple of minutes ago in the street with another guy who matches Hailee's description and may also be on the list."

"Well…"

"Quickly trace anyone on that name close to the officer's whereabouts."

"On it."

He turns around, strides down the hallway.

"Already have a plan?"

Chloe just turns around with a facial expression that, more or less, says 'oh, you have no idea'.

Half past two. The male duo are fully engaged in travelling through the streets in an unsuspicious manner. One of them is significantly focused on his phone's screen's information; the other appears to be the scout for potential hostile people.

"Alright. We should be coming up on the target's apartment building."

"Which floor?"

"4th. No cops in sight?"

"None that I can see."

Less than a minute passes before they enter the apartment building, march straight towards an elevator. Since this is not a well known action movie, but simple reality, the travel is uneventful, boring, laidback.

"DING!"

They step into a hallway, take a few steps, turn left.

"You think that bluff will work?" – Viktor asks calmly.

"We got to get her to open the door somehow."

Soon, the males stop at a door, shift their eyes around. Being conscious, rational, realistic of what type of scenario they entered after fleeing the campus with the travesties there, a debatable overkill on vigilance steers heavily towards purpose.

"Yes. Who is it?!"

"A person from the O.K.B. party you attended last night. I found your belonging." – Adam answers monotonically.

"What makes you think I was there?"

"Face. Social media. 1+1."

They pick up someone walking closer to the door; nothing suspicious, ominous enters the mind. For reference to their stance, another apartment's entrance lives just behind Adam, to the left of Vik.

"Alright." – a probable female voices lively.

What happens next intrigues both of them. A hole for peaking clearly exists, yet she seems to skip the visual test. At the start of the opening sequence, they run through their best possible approaches. That proves to be a waste when…

"HANDS UP! This is the NYPD!"

Immediately after Adam sees a pistol pointed at his heart, before his friend manages to react productively, 2 more police officers emerge from the apartment behind them. 2v3 – not the best odds.

"Don't do anything risky, fellas!" – one of the ones in the back shout.

A couple of thoughts pass through their minds.

"A hard turn for the worst."