The theatre  is in a seedy part of town but a lot of people still go there simply because its dirt cheap.

Over the last few weeks youve heard of mysterious incidents in the area. Animals being found dead drained of blood.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:25, Thu 30 Sept 2021.

Bob had reluctantly taken the dispatch call. It wasn't because of the neighborhood. They had some nice watering holes, by which one would see nice as cheap and people mind their own. No frou frou fruit drinks or mixologists or any new craze. Just the essentials: a stool to park on and a cup with no bottom if your stomach can take it. It was because the dispatcher played coy and would only tell him the scene was "peculiar." He took a nip from a flask and drove with the blaring siren. Screw traffic.

When he got to the scene, he almost jumped back into his car but instead tapped on the shoulder of one of the patrolmen sectioning off the scene, "Mind telling me why a distinguished gentleman such as myself is pulled here for a bunch of stray kittens?"

The patrolman looked flustered and was about to try to answer but the ME stood up and walked over, intervening with all the dignity that age and wisdom from age bring, "They said bring in the clowns and here you are. Leave the kid alone and get your ass over here. I know you're not squeamish and this isn't for animal control."

Bob didn't let many people give him guff but the ME was part of the old guard, emphasis on old and being a consummate jerk was one of the perks of being older as far as Bob was concerned.

There were a litter of kittens with fishing line string through their necks to make the most macabre Christmas decorations one could imagine. They all looked blue and slightly deflated. There was only trace blood on the wire and not much more pooled where they had been gathered. Written in red (presumably some of the blood) was, "Cats don't got my tongue."

Bob was not impressed, "What are we doing here, Murphy? It's some schizo who went off his meds or a disgruntled veterinary student who bounced out."

"Mr. Miller, while I don't value your time, I do value mine. You should find the contents of the kittens' stomachs more to your fascination."

Bob looked down and saw seven evidence bags: seven IDs, seven sets of keys, seven tongues that were decidedly not feline. You had to complain, Bob thought. Now there's a case. One of the IDs jumped out at him, made his blood run cold.

"Did you see this, Murphy? This I.D.??? Eileen Price, the one who lived through the Yorkshire Rock murders."

"I thought that would get your attention. It would appear, Ahab, that your whale has surfaced after fifteen years."

Bob took out the flask and took a big swig. The patrolman was about to say something but Murphy shook his head and hand. "He's back."

Murphy put a hand on Bob's shoulder, "If you want me to inventory the evidence back at the station---"

Bob shook his head vigorously and put the flask away, "No. I'm filing Eileen Price myself so I'll do the others. Although, can't say as I'll be able to do anything with the tongues. Type and match Eileen. We're gonna have to find the others and they better not be joined around a god damn rock."

He knelt down to look at the animals once more and noticed a faint treadmark, "I don't suppose we took impressions of the ground before patrol and everyone started doing their thing?"

The patrolman looked sheepish and that was enough of an answer for Bob. He got back in his car and drove silently before slamming his free hand on the dash.

The Yorkshire Rock killings: four women were bound together around a giant rock by rope post mortem, throats slit and drained of blood, positioned as if they were offering supplication to something or someone ---the fifth victim, Eileen Price. There was something special about her but they weren't able to break through the wall of silence her catatonia had brought about. The unexpected malady must have excited a new possibility in the killer because now they had half a baker's dozen of tongues to catalogue and try to find the bodies they belong to. They'd be able to search the homes quicker thanks to the IDs and even the consideration of leaving the keys.

"Smug bastard."

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the precinct. Bob went through the clearances he needed to before getting to evidence collection. He waited for the cop on duty, Tyler Samson, to ask that he turn in his gun before entering but Tyler just stood there with a blank expression.

"Samson, open the drawer so I can disarm already."

That was when he noticed, very faint, smears of dirt and blood on the sterile faux marble floor. Bob didn't want to look up but he finally did, bile rising.

"I'm gonna need you to answer some questions, out of that booth. Come quietly, Samson. We can work this out."

Vicky came out to the theatre today to look around and check for her roommate's cat, Mr. Engels (a calico, one of several). The cat was mostly an indoors cat, in her experience. He would hop around the room and bother Vicky and her roommate, Alice, while they studied for long hours in the evenings and weekends. It was always "Get off my textbooks, Mister." and "No, get off the keyboard!" and "No, that's my ramen, not yours!" Not that Vicky would ever complain, mind--she loved that damn cat, and Alice's two other cats, Cat and Franklin D. Roosevelt. It's just that Cat and FDR didn't intervene in studying.

They had heard about all the cats going missing and later turning up dead, in fact--someone warned Alice to keep her cats inside, although Vicky couldn't remember who. They had even mentioned this part of town specifically, but because cats are free-spirited it was best to just keep them cooped up. Mr. Engels was usually given freedom of movement all around town, and he was smart enough to dodge animal control, unfriendly dogs and neighbors, and other such nasties. But over the weekend, Mr. Engels darted out.

Despite how annoying Mr. Engels was always, it was lonely studying without him. So she found herself here, and approaching a cop near the theatre. "Uh, hi. I hear a bunch of cats died. I was looking for my friend's cat, it's a kind of petite shorthair with a tortoiseshell coat?"

She was glad--he looked young, and she didn't recognize him. So he probably didn't know her, and her dad and uncle probably didn't know him.

Rolled for you you got 1 clue as of yet

[OOC: Rolled for who?]

 PM

[OOC: PMed]

Samson shook his head as if he'd been hypnotized and coming out of the haze, "Work what out now? Miller, I'm opening the drawer. Place your firearm in the receptacle and you'll be returned it when you leave."

Bob put his firearm and sling holster in there as well as a smaller firearm strapped to his ankle before resolving to wring Samson by the neck. He was about to launch into a series of questions about the blood on the floor and the dirt but when he went to the back, he saw a discarded bottle of nail polish in the trashcan. Samson blushed, "I, uh...look, I paint my nails alright? It cheers me up. I spilled the bottle and some of it got on the ground. I left the booth to use the hose outside in the courtyard and tracked dirt in. Please don't tell anyone about me leaving my post!"

Bob went to the section where this evidence would be filed based on case number and shook his head, "You're lucky I'm an enlightened man, Samson. Some of the people I used to work with, well, you probably can guess."

He left the evidence area and collected his firearms, tossing off one last insult for the grief, "Color is hideous on you."

Bob left before he could see Samson's dejected face and muttering to himself that Bob was just some rummy dinosaur.

Bob got back in his car and laid his head on the steering wheel. He wanted to just go to his (thankfully) rent controlled apartment and drink himself to sleep. He couldn't do it though. He had to go back to the scene. Eileen Price weighed heavy on him.

As he drove to the scene, he saw a young woman talking with the patrolman of the year. "Girl shouldn't be in this neighborhood with everything going on," he thought dully before getting a better look at exactly who the girl was.

This night was just bringing all of it to the fore. He beeped the horn twice and both the girl and the patrolman looked over, each of them wearing the same expression for different yet similar reasons.

"Vicky, get in the car."

There might have been more vinegar in his words than he thought so he let it alone, hoping Vicky would come soon. It was a stressful night. It's rare to have a second chance at the one who got away. They usually stay gone. This was more than making up for a black eye. Before the past could be addressed, Eileen needed justice. He needed this chance for redemption, to plug the dam.

There was one wrinkle. Opening up a fifteen year old cold case meant putting a lot of red back on the board for unsolved murders and splashy ones at that. Bob wasn't getting this revived on his own. "Time to play Mom against Dad," he thought to himself as he speed dialed the DA's office.

"Hello. You've reached the Department of Justice switchboard. Please state the nature of your call."

Bob quietly cursed. Apparently his station as liaison did not warrant putting his number straight through. How many gatekeepers would there be before he reached who he wanted to?

"This is Detective Miller calling for DA O'Connor."

There was a silence for what felt a fortnight until a voice with some measure of distaste replied, perhaps for the familiarity or the full moon, "Please hold."

Muzak played as he waited. There was something oddly comforting about the nauseating nothingness of the sound being universal with the DOJ, to the grains of sand that drop in the hourglass while on hold. Another less than pleased voice greeted him, this one he knew. Gladys, daughter to St. Peter for the way she acts. No one shall pass.

"Hey Gladys. It's Bob. Can you put me through to the DA? It's pretty important."

Gladys cleared her throat and put him on hold without a word. Such a charming woman. But perhaps her fate had been sealed when she was named Gladys, a name preordained to be of short temper and a resentment of the world for never getting her piece of the American Dream. There was no hourglass needed. She probably ate one of her candy bars while leaving him hanging but it was quick enough to know. She didn't check.

"I'm so sorry. The DA is on a conference call. Try back at a later time."

She wanted to hang up but wasn't fast enough before Bob got out, "Ms. Juneau! Please let me speak with Ms. Juneau."

Gladys had feigned ignorance but Bob persisted and the resentment was clear, "What exactly can Ms. Juneau provide, as an assistant, that I have not already told you?"

Bob thought to himself, "Infinitely more she can provide, you miserable harpy."

"Nothing of business. It's more of a personal nature. I just wanted to thank her for the lovely gift and card on my birthday. No kids, always on the job---it's a rarity to get one at my age."

He could hear the gears of her eyes rolling but she put him on hold again before returning. She wanted to say anything but what she did in that moment, "Ms. Juneau says she would be---happy---to talk with you and to please hold."

Now it was a waiting game for someone truly busy to give him the keys of the kingdom. As far as his standing with Andrea Juneau went, he felt like she liked him well enough. But then she made everyone feel important. What were his chances?

Andrea had been up early, as was customary for her.  Mornings started with a jog or a trip to the gym, sometimes with her boss, Judith O'Connor, the DA if there was an early spin or yoga class.  This morning it had just been a quick jog around the man-made lake a few blocks from the apartment that she shared with her sister.  After showering and blow-drying her hair she still left the apartment before 6 AM.

DA O'Connor took her coffee black with a hint of Swerve, having dropped sugar when she began her latest diet.  Andrea arrived to the office at 6:55, gave a cheerful hello to Gladys, the receptionist at the front of the DA's office and left the coffee on DA O'Connor's desk.  It would still be hot 5 minutes later when the DA arrived.

Popping back to the front reception Andrea set a small, brown bag on the desk next to Galdys' elbow.  "Butter Croissant.  Still warm, I think.  You are looking well-rested today Gladie. Did you and Peter have dinner together?  How is Sophia?"  Andrea was being generous, Gladys' roller-curled hair was mussed and her lipstick was smeared on one corner.  Peter was her husband and Gladys loved to complain about how little they talked anymore and how he just came home and sat with a beer in front of sports on the TV.  Sophia was their daughter, she had moved to another state.  Gladys' face lit up at the mention of her daughter.

"The old fart drank three beers and ordered pizza because my roast was dry.  But Sophie called me and we had a long talk on the telephone. I miss her so much."  Gladys answered.

"I always have the same trouble with roasts." Andrea offered.  "My mom says to add extra beef broth and a little bit of butter.  Maybe try that next time?  I am glad Sophia is well."  She looked up at the DA walked in and gave Gladys a nod. "Talk to you later."

Andrea clicked open her PDA as she fell into step with the DA.  "Good morning.  You have your first meeting about the Johannessen case at 10:00 AM. The mayor wanted a call and I scheduled that for you at 11:30 and lunch at 1:00 at the bistro around the corner.  If you need me to re-arrange because the Mayor wants to meet for lunch, I can change it to that Club he likes- they will take a last minute call. Conference call at 4:00 on the anti-drug initiative.  I will be getting your dry cleaning sometime today.  Coffee is on your desk."  The DA gave Andrea a  grateful smile and opened her office door.  Andrea did not follow her in, but went to her own small office nearby.

A normal day.  Except by 1:00 Andrea's little sister Kat had still not answered any of Andrea's texts asking how her date had gone the night before.  Andrea had popped home and found the bed unused and while her sister was a grown woman and sometimes had sleep-overs, not hearing from her about it seemed odd.  By 4:00 Andrea was sincerely worried; Kat's phone was rolling straight to voicemail.  Neither her parents, nor her brother nor Kat's best friend Ashley knew where she was.  Andrea took the rest of the day off and filled out a missing person report, but she was sure nothing was being done on it yet- her sister was not a vulnerable adult and she could show up any time; she'd only been gone a few hours.

Andrea was driving to a rather crappy part of town after having picked up the DA's dry cleaning to visit the theater her sister had been going to.  Andrea would personally never ever go some place like that by choice, but it was apparently the only theater in town running a particular indie movie her sister and date, Edward, had wanted to see.  It had been a midnight showing.

When her phone rang the car IDed it at Gladys.  "Hi Gladie. Everything ok?"  She hadn't expected a call, having left for the day, but at the DA's personal assistant work never really ended for the day.

"Oh yes.  I'm fine." Gladys answered, sounding entirely put out.  "That Bob Miller is calling.  Asked for the DA, but she's busy, as you know.  Then asked for you.  He says it personal. You be careful Andrea.  Men like him can't keep their grubby paws or dirty minds from doing horrible things to pretty girls like you."

Andrea laughed.  "It's ok Gladie.  He's always been completely professional with me. You can put the call through to my cell phone since I am out.  I will make sure to report anything I need to with the Title 9 office, but I am sure it's fine and I am happy to talk with him."

When Bob was transferred to Andrea he could hear the ambient noises of a car on speaker as the line connected then Andrea's voice.  At first, her voice was tired or perhaps showing some kind of stress "Detective Miller" she said.  "Always a pleasure to hear from you. What can I help you with?"  Somehow, even when stressed or distracted with driving or life issues, Andrea always seemed to be making all the time in the world for the person she was talking to and it certainly made him or her feel like they were the most important thing in her world at the moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:36, Mon 04 Oct 2021.

The Muzak was winning. Bob found himself humming to it in irritation and then fuzz as the line was being connected. Andrea sounded tired but for a moment and then the professional yet amiable slipped into place. It was a skill set he didn't have and it took him a moment to snap out of it, "Right. Sorry to call so late but I have a big ask. And that when you haven't cashed in your chit for the tasteful bottle of bourbon I received along with card. Thank you truly."

He turned his head away to cough and sniffed as he went back on the line, "Scuse me. So, you're going to hear some of this anyway. I'm giving you the full picture so you can see the import. Yorkshire looks to have resurfaced. We're not going to have the benefit of FBI profilers and interdepartmental cooperation with other precincts after that black eye he gave all of us. No one will believe it but I know he's back. He finished the loop he started with Eileen Price and there's six other people missing. Women I should say. IDs and keys were left at the scene and it's looking to be tied into the animal disappearances. My gut instinct is he just happened to see the handiwork of someone else and they're not connected but it could be he's always wanted to add the theatrical element. The IDs were found at the Gemini Theater. I'm actually outside waiting for my niece, god knows what she's doing out this late."

He took a breath before the drop, "DA is gonna have to apply pressure on my people if we want to get ahead of this. Exigent circumstances for multiple warrants, I'm hoping. We have the keys to the houses for all that's holy. You're the rising star. Get her onboard.  And...try to finesse me in there. I don't have to be lead. It would be distracting to have 'Rocky Road' Miller head this. I get that. But I need this."

It was like unburdening at a confessional. All of that out in one burst. He let out a big breath. His knuckles were white at the tight hold he had on the steering wheel. It was true. Andrea was a rising star and hitching herself to Bob with this request was as long a shot as he could see. He wanted to beep for Vicky again, the anxiety mounting but he calmed his nerves with a quick nip of that very bourbon.

The truth was, when Bob rolled up, she had only just started the conversation, and the man was about to answer her question when Bob interrupted.

She recognized the voice, and she didn't like recognizing the voice. A glance to the source of that voice confirmed her suspicion: it was her uncle, Bob. Things weren't good with him, she didn't think, but she wasn't really privy to everything behind that estrangement. The last time they were really close, Vicky was just a wee teenager.

She looked at him for a few seconds and responded: "Hold up, I'm asking about something!"

"As you were saying?" Vicky turned back to the fellow.

"Yeah, uh. Well, I don't know about cat breeds." There was a pause, as Vicky looked on at him like he might be a moron.

After a short time, she followed up by asking: "Well, can I see them? I just really need to know for sure."

He looked over to Bob, obviously thinking on if that would be a good idea, and then he froze up. She looked at Bob next. Then, she looked back at the cop. Finally, he responded: "Uh, I don't think I can. You know, procedurally." He glanced, nervously, at Bob.

Message received: this guy doesn't want to cross Bob Miller. "Well, that's awesome. Thanks for your help."

Victoria took a moment to think on how she could get what she wanted from Bob. What was the best way to emotionally extort access to whatever was going on with these cats that required a god damn detective looking into it? She looked over at the car, and a few moments later she had herself an idea.

The next thing Bob knew, when he finished taking his latest swig of whiskey, she wasn't in the car's light anymore--she was just there by his driver-side car door, without any warning. She started begging at her first opportunity: "Can I ask you a really big favor, Uncle? I need to know if my roommate's cat is dead." She might have been pouting slightly, to try and get Bob's sympathy.

OOC: Sorry for the hold-up, I don't always post over weekends, although I post once or twice a day outside of the weekends most of the time. :)

OOC: Sounds good :)

Bob put the flask away but not fast enough when Vicky had regarded him and dismissed for the moment. It hurt more than he might have thought. He missed his niece. If she knew the number of science fairs and other events he'd been to without her (or her dad) knowing, a restraining order might have been filed. When Dudley "Am I Doing this Right" looked at him however, he glowered and whatever was going on between the two had not gone Vicky's way.

And then just as suddenly, the kid vanished and tapped on his door, asking him what felt to be a ridiculous favor in light of everything. He got out of the car and took his phone with him, cognizant that Andrea was still on the other end and he didn't want to miss her. Hopefully she'll need the time to tabulate whether it's worth putting on galoshes to wade in the mud with Bob Miller.

He tapped Vicky on the tip of her nose like when she was a kid and he told her it would light up like Rudolph before going to the unfortunate soul that was manning the scene, "Has the scene been fully processed? CSI cameras finish with their photos?"

The patrolman looked as though his soul was leaving his body, "The scene is still being processed, sir. Photographers haven't been out yet. They're finishing up processing an assault and battery at Bridgeport. It's going to be fifteen to thirty before they even get here."

Bob wanted to say something but ultimately the stolen moment of bourbon and seeing Vicky had softened his disposition, "Alright. That's, um, that's good work. We might be coming through in a minute so hold tight."

He turned back to Vicky, "Can't believe you're in this crummy neighborhood for a cat. You know what your dad would say? Alright, here's your options. The scene is not pretty. But you're an adult. If you want to see them now, you can. Or! We wait for CSI photogs to come here, take more exhaustive photos and different angles of the staging. Option 2 will give you more visibility and we could chat. Want to maybe go with 2?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line from Bob. So long that he might have thought she hung up on him, once he realized she hadn't responded.  The lack of speech was filled with the quieter, muffled sounds of deep breathing, like yoga breaths used to calm ones mind. And a few honking horns. Then Bob heard Andrea's GPS telling her to turn right on a street which ran across the city, but crossed blocks from him.

"The Gemini?" her voice finally came across the line. It sounded strange as though she was controlling her throat, straining not to cry or yell. Bob had never heard her sound like that before. "I need you to stay there, please Detective. I am actually about 2 minutes away.  I have to get off the phone now." She hung up without further explanation.

The Yorkshire Rock murderer. Andrea had been only 14 when the murders had happened, but she had no trouble remembering the splashy news media, gruesome photos and failure to find the perpetrator.  She had known Detective Miller had worked the case and hadn't fared well in the aftermath, but she tried not to hold peoples' pasts against them and interacted with anyone by looking at their current interactions with her. She could feel a sense of the terror from that time rising to the surface and gripping her chest.  For months during and after the investigation Andrea and her sister had not been allowed to go anywhere without an adult male escort despite the fact that they lived three hours from the city.  Her parents weren't taking any chances- anyone was a potential killer at that time. Her high school had even hired off-duty cops to patrol and watch over kids.  That was when she had first gotten a cell phone so she could check in with her parents every hour and between every class to let them know she was still alive and where she was supposed to be. All of that had eventually faded; things went back to normal at some point, but those memories surfaced now and she wasn't frightened for herself. All she could think was Where is Kat? Where is my sister?

Someone laid on the horn near her and she snapped back to it, narrowly avoiding ramming her sleek, black sedan into another car. She restarted her yoga breaths, cleanse and calm. Everything will be FINE. Kat is fine, she told herself, though she couldn't get herself to believe that statement.

Two minutes after she hung up, Andrea parallel parked her car on the street close to the cop cars nearby the Gemini theater. Most people felt uncomfortable parking so close to cars with their lights on, so despite the premium on free street parking there were a few open spots. Bob recognized her as soon as she got out. In this neighborhood she was especially hard to miss. She was tall and slender in her black pumps, wearing slacks and a cream silk blouse with a ribbon bow at the collarbone. Her blonde hair was classically arranged in a low chignon over her left shoulder.  From this distance Bob could not see the color of her eyes,  but he could certainly recall the striking one-blue, one-brown detail, however they did appear especially wide giving her a classic look of shock or fear.

Andrea clicked the lock on her car, the telltale beep announcing to everyone that the car was locked, but she didn't look back as she purposefully crossed the street to where Bob was standing with another officer and a young woman, possibly the niece he had mentioned.  "Officer. Miss." She said, giving them both a nod of greeting as she walked up.  It was apparent she wanted to grab Bob by the arm and rip him away, but she was restraining herself.  The fingers wrapped around her purse strap were stark white in contrast.

"Detective Miller.  When you have a moment, I would like a word." she told him, and she stepped away to give them space to finish whatever was taking place and so that she would have his full attention.  While she waited she looked around at the cars parked on the road, looking for her sister's car.

When Bob came over she gave him a thankful half-smile, though she looked on the edge of tears.  "In answer to your question, I will help you fast track this.  With the addition of six new identities, I don't think it will be as much trouble as you are anticipating.  The DA will want to get out ahead of any news media and rumor mills. She wasn't DA when 5 women went missing and turned up..." her voice hitched. "Dead all those years ago, but she does know what it did to the career of the DA who was on at the time."  She paused to collect herself.  Bob had never seen Andrea so shaken in all of the times their paths had crossed.

"Now, I have to ask you something and I need full honesty.  I know that I am just a civilian, but I have to know, Bob." Andrea had never called him by just his given name before and by that Bob knew that this was not a request from the personal assistant of the DA, but from Andrea Juneau.  She took a deep shuddering breath and started. "My sister.  Her name is Kat, Katherine.  She- she came here to a movie last night with a guy friend and she hasn't been responding to any texts or calls and now her phone is off.  I... Bob, you said there were IDs. Was one of them for Katherine Juneau?" The look on her face was pleading as she was practically begging him for an answer and he knew that the answer she truly wanted was "No," but she also wanted the truth.

He heard activity on the other end of the line and held a finger up for Vicky, mouthing the word "Sorry" as he put his ear to the phone. It didn't take long though and he could feel his stomach turn as he waited for Andrea to arrive, "We're gonna have to make it quick, Vicky. There's been a development here and it's not just animals. I can't say more but tonight is a night where I'm not thinking about regs. If you're looking for this cat and continuing to go all corners, you're with me like white on rice."

As Andrea made her way across the street, Bob found himself overwhelmed at her grace amidst this rundown street. It was like watching a doe trample through weeds. Vicky and her both. Roses springing from the cracks in the pavement unbidden and he could only hope they wouldn't be trodden on. That was the reality of this city. Glass teeth and metal limbs ready to feast on anyone walking the streets. And then the quiet returns. The world doesn't mourn.

He walked over and watched her put on a brave face, nodding solemnly at the information and then when he heard her call him by name, he felt a lump in his throat. The hammer hit the nail and he was going through pictures of the evidence logged.

"Eileen Price is the bridge. Four women died back then. She didn't until now. This is a new cycle, which means what we knew before, scant as it was, does not necessarily apply here. Is there any news on the guy? Were you able to contact him? All of the previous victims were alone. A young in shape man would've made your sister a harder target."

He was grasping for straws as he looked to each license and the fourth one stopped him in his tracks, "Andrea, could you take a look at this license? I need you to formally identify it, as your sister, if it is. And I need to know if you owned a kind of fluffy black haired cat named Jinx. Or maybe it's your neighbors cat and you fed it."

 "If it is your sister..." The words came out disbelieving in themselves. How many Katherine Juneaus could there be in the city?

[OOC: You hold Kat's fate in your hands, Andrea. As tenuous a connection as it could be, maybe she could be significant because of her nickname and connected to the cats more closely.]

OOC: the laptop kept going on the fritz every time I went to work on a post, so typing from my phone...

I am going to skip the dialogue colors, and I'll edit the colors in later. Typing in all those brackets would be a pain.

Victoria could smell the alcohol from where she was standing outside the car door. Whiskey, she was pretty sure. Focusing on that, she found herself surprised when Bob tapped her on the nose. She had to press the back of her finger to  the bottom of her nose to stop a sneeze from coming on. She wanted to tell Bob not to treat her like a kid, because she hasn't been one for a long time--but she didn't want to make it all awkward. She was pretty sure she didn't really want to think about the long years since she'd seen Bob, and he probably didn't want to be reminded either.

So she stepped back and watched the ensuing conversation. The poor cop was terrified of Bob. Then, at his moment of greatest fear, Bob relented. Huh.

"I...guess I can go with option two. Um, how are you, Uncle Bob?"

She had barely spoken when Andrea arrived, and suddenly, Vicky did feel like a little kid. A lot of it went in one ear and right out the other, and an expression of mild panic spread over her face. One moment, she was looking at Andrea in shock, the next she was nodding to Bob and repeating his words: "Like white on rice..."

Finally, she interrupted: "Wait, but, but, b-- I thought these were just missing cats, why I'd there a serial killer? Is someone going to hurt my friend?!" There were tears in Vicky's eyes, but something else, too...a resolute intention.

[OOC: Damn. That sucks. Even with functioning stuff, I opt to use the drop down and just type in the pop up box, make any corrections I need after pressing OK. Not sure if that'll feel weird or not to you but it's more seamless for me. "]

Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration at himself. Of course she wasn't going to just process this without issue. She doesn't live in this world; she lives in the other side of it and by the grace of that thin membrane Bob and Vicky's father Jesse and all of the blue wall create by their work, she would normally never have to have the worm in the apple. Just an astonishing lack of awareness, Bob. Not to mention she was only six when all of this was happening in the past. He spoke gently to her and felt embarrassed as a waft of alcohol accompanied his words but he charged through.

"Vicky, I know this is a shock. But the DA, thanks to Andrea and O'Connor's own interest in this, he will not have the shadows to conduct his sickness in any longer. I'll make sure your campus is put on priority to coordinate with our department for campus security awareness. Your friend will be safe as long as she follows the safety tips we give out during adverse events like this. And the odds are remote. I know it doesn't feel that way but it's true."

It was right now that Bob was grateful didn't have his own children but he realized that wasn't true. He had Vicky standing right here and niece still felt like his heart was walking outside his body. He found a moment of fear but dispelled it with anger instead, tempered by resolute focus.

"I'm going to show you the cats. It's grisly but to help me protect your friend and put something very important to rest, you tell me if any of them are the cat you're looking for. And tell me your friend's name. We're going to put to rest whether the cats are connected or not. Ok? Call her now even if it wakes her. You'll feel better to know she's just fine."

He awkwardly introduced Andrea to Vicky and told them both to wait a moment while he talked to the patrolman.

"You're gonna help me out here, Officer...Richards. My niece, the girl you spoke with, is going to be escorted by me to look at our feline tableau over there. If she recognizes one of the cats, we can rule out if there's direct connection between the cats themselves and the victims with the IDs."

Officer Richards chewed on that a good two minutes or so, "What about protocol?"

There was an edge to Bob's voice, "What about protocol...what do you think, Richards?"

"I think I should have been a gym teacher. Just make it quick. The sergeant is coming out here soon according to the radio and it'll be both our asses surely if he sees what you're doing."

Bob waved Vicky to come over, holding the tape up for her to bend under.

[OOC: I'm sure there's any number of rolls I should be making here. Just let me know.]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:43, Tue 05 Oct 2021.

Andrea swallowed audibly as Detective Miller looked through the photos of the IDs and asked her questions.  "I don't have the number of the guy that Kat was going to the movies with. I just know his name is Eddie and he goes to her school."

When Bob came across the fourth ID and held it out to her, Andrea held his gaze for a moment, postponing the inevitable, then her eyes flicked down and he read the recognition on her face as she choked out a cry and one hand flew to cover her mouth. Then her knees gave out and she stumbled. She only just kept herself from falling into the gutter by grabbing onto Bob's forearm.  "Oh Kat..." she moaned.  A moment later she realized she was holding onto Bob and let go, rebalancing on her heels. She took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, swaying a bit.  "I would like to see her.  Can I see her please? Don't make me wait to ID her at the morgue." Bob had to explain that there were no bodies, no bodies of people, just cats and tongues and this confused Andrea.

Once she had gotten the details and was able to process it Andrea looked Detective Miller in the eye and stepped closer to him so that she could speak quietly and no one else could hear.  She smelled like honeysuckle and vanilla. "Detective, I think that you are making a grave mistake assuming that the women in these IDs are dead and also that the tongues found with the IDs belong to them.  It is a perfectly reasonable assumption, but procedurally stupid.  I understand that this perpetrator previously caused you a lot of trouble, but you should not let your past and the fact that Ms. Price is one of the identities, throw you off your game. You are speaking to me about warrants when you have all emergency contingency to send as many officers into the residences of these women as you want. We don't know they are dead. We haven't even confirmed they are all missing.  If you have not dispatched officers to each of these addresses and also to the Yorkshire Rock to check for any sign of repeated activity there then I would suggest you do so as soon as possible.  I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but I sincerely think that if you want to be involved in this case you do as much of this as you can before your Sergeant gets here, asks you why you didn't request this action and gets it done himself.  If the DA concludes that any harm could have been prevented by swift action to recover the women identified as possibly in danger here I can not being to stress the pressures you will find yourself facing."  Andrea stepped away.  She didn't look angry, but she did look very purposeful and intensely interested in the outcome of the next minutes.  She could feel the pulse in her neck racing at a high pace from the adrenaline running through her.  If there was any possibility of finding Kat alive, she was going to take it and she was all-in now.  They would not be able to stop her from pursuing this to the end to find out who was messing with her little sister.  "I am going to call the DA now so that she can get ahead of this mess.  I would like to be able to tell her that you are handling things exactly as a First Grade Detective should."

Andrea stepped a few paces away.  She had always been good at getting a hold of herself in a crisis situation if she could take a professional approach, especially as it related to matters of justice.  Right now it was not just Kat, but 5 other women and even Bob, whose career could be on the line, depending on her not having a break down.  So she set those feelings aside and made her call. She could scream and cry in the shower at home and eat three tubs of ice cream after her sister had been found.  Prior to calling, she texted the DA the emergency code so that the DA would pick up no matter what was happening on the other end.

"Your Honor," Andrea started out as Ms. O'Connor picked up the phone.  "I have some important information about a new case, possibly connected to the Yorkshire murders, which you are going to want to get ahead of."  She lowered her voice to fill the older woman in on what was happening and true to her word, she put in a plug for Detective Miller, who was the man on the scene handling things from the beginning.

The smell was pleasant and distracting at first but when Bob heard her level voice calmly leveling him, the romance was gone and he was able to listen calmly as she proceeded to make several good points. He waited for her to finish the call to the DA and then spoke quietly when he approached,

"I'll put aside that you think I'm devoid of sense and mention some things you neglected to or could not have thought to. Firstly, if we take a small tissue sample from you and cross reference it with the tongues, we are on our way to finding out whether any of them belong to your sister. I'm not the greatest at biology but sisters or rather siblings in general are the closest genetic match to one another in the entire world. You'll share more than enough markers to make a conclusion. We also have preserved DNA from Eileen Price because we took hair, blood, everything fifteen years ago. One confirmed tongue won't be persuasive but two will be for a pattern. As for dispatching units to the locations, that is beyond my purview even as the Detective on the scene. My sergeant will be doing that regardless. However, if the DA is breathing down his neck, he can't drag his heels about doing so and trust me when I say that that would happen. I have a vested interest in seeing this case active. My sergeant does not. This is a pile of shit for him and negative stats on the board. As strange as it might seem, it would be less of a hit to the department to drag their heels and let this go cold and something of a draw than to keep their feet to the fire with interested yet contained press and an invigorated DA that wants results, risking red to overall case resolved stats. You're right. These women could be alive. But if he's even remotely keeping to his past MO, only one will be. We didn't have long to construct a profile on him before he vanished and Quantico bailed very early on. The profile we mutually constructed was one of some religious or cultist design. Eileen appeared to be venerated by the dead. It was supposition that she was meant to die that night in a ceremony but as you might say, that's an assumption. Before we could get an expert, pictures got out and "Rocky Road Miller" was born. It wasn't just that I was dragged through the mud. It was that every news outlet reported simultaneously his failure and drove him to ground. We're going to be scrambling to not let the same mistakes occur again."

He was sure that the departmental attitude of lassitude would ring false to Andrea but there was a sad reality that this has all the makings of a lost cause from the get go in terms of the spread of missing women from varying socioeconomic backgrounds, racial make up and other disparate elements that render them all distinct from one another and patternless. The ME would need to report back the rate of decomposition of the tongues to give a time frame of when they were abducted or when they were dispatched. Either way, that was necessary. And then there were the damn animals.

"I need you to tell me about that cat I asked about so we can try to rule out a connection or confirm it. Black fur, fluffy, name is Jinx. That is the cat that held your sister's ID, set of keys and...a tongue. Suffice to say, I'll be searching Eileen Price's apartment and with your permission, keeping as tight a loop as we can, we handle your place as well."

He looked to her expectantly of protest or angles he hasn't covered.

Vicky couldn't immediately respond to Bob, she was still a bit shocked at all of this. Just when she got her tongue again, she was left momentarily with this Andrea person.

So, turning to her, she asked politely, and stupidly: "So, what do you do for a living?"

Not too long after, Bob was back. She nodded and said: "OK, I understand. I'll call her while I'm looking, just make sure she's alright." She paused before telling him the cat's name--she felt like she was outing her roommate as a communist or something. "Uhh, the cat's name is Mr. Engels. She's Alice Baker."

She stepped forward, creeping under the tape into the scene itself.

Victoria's stomach went sour right quick when she saw the cats. Laid out, connected together with fishing wire. They were put together kind of like...a Christmas ornament. And right there, forming part of the tail of the star, was Mr. Engels. (Actually, he was a bit small for the job, especially compared to the tubby fellow just by Mr. Engels, and it gave the whole formation an ugly, asymmetrical shape.)

Vicky breathed in and out hard and slow, forcing herself not to hyperventilate through force of will. She crouched down to look at the words, in blood, all over the ground there. It was a stupid pun.

But it gave her an idea for just a split second, and without thinking she reached forward to nudge open Mr. Engels' mouth with her hand, through cloth. Freezing, she stopped and pulled back her hand. What the hell am I doing?

She stepped back, and pulled out her phone. She put in a call to her friend.

It rang a few times. "Hey, Vicky, 'zat you? What's going on, did you find him?"

"Hey. It's...uh, it's really bad here. The cops are going to get out, like, safety information soon, I just really need you to follow it." She hung up before Alice could respond, because she found herself choking on words.

As she calmed herself, Richards peeked around the corner. "Are you alright?"

"Some privacy, just for a second."

Richards cast a glance back over to Bob and, likely not wanting to offend him somehow, let it pass.

Vicky gave it a second. Then she made a decision, and she went to go check the cats. She was careful not to touch them in any way, unless it seemed like she had to.

None of it made any sense to her, and she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to figure anything out from this.

"Hey, get away from all that, you almost stepped in the blood. You're gonna get me put on desk duty!" Looking back, she saw who it was, and retreated from the crime scene.

Outside, she caught the tail end of a very intense and very quiet conversation. She thought she could sense some romantic tension, but she was way too young and out of her uncle's league, so she was pretty sure she imagined it.

Stepping forward again, she said first to Bob: "Hey. It's her cat in there, but she's fine right now. I really need to know what happened last time. Were there cats last time? If there were, was there a gap between the cat killing and...I think this person killed a bunch of girls or something, didn't they?"

She paused for a second and said, more simply and more resolutely, to the both of them: "What's going on here?"

Bob tapped the information into his phone's notepad as Vicky spoke. He couldn't register any amusement he felt at the name. He couldn't be an uncle.

When she returned and asked her question, he shook his head with a small measure of satisfaction, though it wasn't conclusive.

"Cats or for that matter...any animal...they weren't at the scene fifteen years ago. Your friend's cat being used indicates---"

He was struggling with the idea of telling her more but relented to some degree.

"You were six when a major case broke. There was a cluster of murders and the victims were gathered amongst the large rock on Yorkshire Beach. They were dubbed the 'Yorkshire Rock' murders. The killer escaped justice. There was evidence found tonight that suggests he may have returned. My gut says the cats are an improvisation. One killer using the set dressing of another, coincidence. The Yorkshire killer applied symmetry with the items he left for us to find. The cats would have belonged to these women if it were his design."

He saw the look in her eyes, the expectation. She was her father's daughter.

"You'll just go off on your own if I don't loop you in, won't you. And then Jesse will be booked for murder. Mine."


Bob's shoulders sagged as if he'd tagged Atlas to spot him holding the world. He sat on the curb near his car and waited to see what Andrea would say to Vicky.

Andrea watched Vicky and her uncle interact.  The way he treated her was more like a daughter and it wasn't beyond Andrea's notice that he was breaking the rules for the both of them.

When Vicky asked Andrea's profession she looked a little surprised. "I work in the DA's office. It is coincidence that I am here tonight, but now that I am, I certainly cannot go home to bed."

She waited while Bob handled Andrea looking at the cats. It was not something she was interested in seeing herself. Had it been the actual women, she would have wanted to see her sister. In fact, until she saw her sister, dead or alive, she knew she would continue to feel the knot she felt bearing down on her abdomen which was anchoring her fear, embarrassment and guilt to her every motion.

When Bob explained why he couldn't rush off that moment in search of the missing women, Andrea's lips tightened to a thin line. "Of course you can have a DNA sample. Though as a civil servant it's in the system already. I'm not as interested in proving the tongues belong to the women on the IDs as much as trying to find them. It's very frustrating to me that you are already treating this like a cold case when this might be the hottest thing you've touched in years." And it very well may burn us all. She blew out a frustrated breath, then blushed as she realized what she had implied. "Hottest case. I meant to say 'case.'" she sighed. "Look. Your boss is not going to be able to sweep this under a rug, but if he is going to drag his feet then you are my only ally in speed here and I know you want to get this guy, or girl, or group of people, but I need you to focus on recovery of these women until we have them. Dead or alive. Because if there's any chance.... Her voice stopped working for a moment. "Please. This is not 15 years ago. It's now. Losing your tongue is not an automatic death sentence and we can't assume that all is lost already." The pleading note in her voice was not for show, she truly hoped he would help her. There was no way that she could talk to the Sergeant like this and the both knew it. In the interaction she'd had with the Sergeant he'd definitely treated her as ornament material; pretty to look at, of no value to him beyond that. The DA, being a woman, also had a rough time getting the Sergeant to cooperate well with her. He was solidly in the old boy's club. So Bob was Andrea's life line. But she was done telling him what she thought he ought to do and straining the relationship of kindness which she had built up over the years so she stepped back, no longer needing to keep the conversation private.

At this point she conceded that she had not answered his questions. She shook her head. "No cat. We had plenty on the farm growing up, but our apartment doesn't allow cats.  Though she loves them. If there was a stray around she might have fed it. And yes, you can search our apartment, though I doubt you will find anything.  If we're all waiting for your Sergeant then I am too. I want to know what happens from here."

Andrea tried to go sit in her car to wait, but the space was too enclosed. So she got back out and stood near the cop cars and police tape. She was drumming her fingers against her elbow. At one point she said to Vicky. "I'm glad that whomever you called is ok." with a little smile.  All the while she was planning. If the Sergeant didn't jump on finding these women and their assailant, she would do something herself. The first place she figured she should go would be the Yorkshire Rock itself.

Bob stood back up. Restlessness was replacing the emotional fatigue and he needed to be sharp as Andrea is smart yet there were gaps in her understanding, "The tongues matching will potentially give us an aspect to his MO. The tongues matching means we have six victims. The tongues not matching means we have double, alive or dead. If we have cause to doubt the link between any piece of evidence, we will have more chaos in this pursuit. If none of the evidence is linked, we have triple the victims and the only thing that indicates is an insatiable, sadistic psychopath. We have nowhere save the Rock to look if the keys don't match the IDs. No, I believe they're all connected and he wants to take us somewhere."

The train of thought was quickly derailed and he found himself laughing despite everything at the intimation. He gently laid his hand on Andrea's shoulder, "It's not cold to me, the trail. It's not a statistic to me. There's a reason besides the drinking I'm not the golden boy anymore. I'm far from a careerist now. That's why we're not waiting for the Sergeant to act. 'Detective Bob Miller has left the scene to escort the DA's assistant home as one of the victims appears to be Katherine Juneau, the assistant's younger sister.' ME Murphy should be coordinating with forensics to determine a time frame of how long the tongues have been separated from their persons, which will determine whether there is cause to treat the trail fresh or if we have to fight the dreaded 48 hour mark."

He didn't keep his hand lingering, letting his hand drop to his side once he'd finished speaking. He turned to Vicky. There were so many things he wanted to talk to her about but it wasn't the time. He finally settled on something, "How's school? And Jesse...how is he?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Thu 07 Oct 2021.

Vicky listened to Bob's explanation, not calmly but determined to seem calm (and failing, but only just a bit). When he finished, she only nodded.

Then Andrea started talking, and when she said hottest thing, the look of alarm and embarrassment on Vicky's face was evident. It was obvious the implication of that was too much for Vicky to handle. (Inside, she felt a bit vindicated--there really was some kind of tension there, she was pretty sure of it now.)

"So...we're just waiting for your Sergeant, then?" She paused for a second, and grimaced. "He won't recognize me or anything, will he? Should I go sit in your car when he gets here? I don't want you to have to explain why I'm here." There was a second pause, and finally she said: </Coral>"Thanks for letting me come along."</Coral>

She replied to Andrea shortly thereafter: "Thanks. She's really important to me. I hope your sister is fine--or, I hope we can help her if she might not be, or, uh..." She stopped talking there, in order to save herself any further embarrassment.

A little while later, sitting next to Bob on the curb, she sighed. "It's going good. I'm getting a BS in Chemistry. I'm just not really sure what I'm gonna do after I graduate. The job market isn't really good." She held off for a few seconds before continuing. "Dad is really good, I think. We don't talk as much as we used to, because of college. But he's in a good place."

Bob let himself fall into the trap of normalcy when Vicky shared bits of her life, normalcy in any circumstance but now where he was being evasive for a time, stealing minutes from the clock to be in her life, "Pharmaceuticals must always need promising chemists, right? I'm always seeing commercials for some cholesterol medication or antidepressant with side effects that make the condition seem preferable by far."

He found words that he knew he shouldn't have said tumbling out of his mouth, "You ever think about forensics?"

Jesse was adamant, as many police are, that his kid would never touch anything near law enforcement. All things considered, forensics offered insulation from direct dangers but it could take a mental toll. Bob agreed with Jesse. He just, in that moment, found himself pitching the idea as if he were trying to keep the family business going. Working together had a charm to it but he pushed that thought aside with good old fashioned nostalgia.

"You could always revive 'Blue Glue.' Remember that? Other kids were making those fizzy volcanoes and you wanted to revolutionize non-violent pacification methods at the science fair. So you made a glue gun---it worked too well and when you demonstrated it, your teacher couldn't remove her hand from the table. They gave you 3rd and your dad and I stormed the stage. I've never seen a girl's face go so red. Took your mom and aunt to smooth over everything."

Bob laughed the second time that night at the memory and then it subsided into a quiet talk, "I'm glad your dad is doing well."

There wasn't more to say. Neither one could reach out to the other. He broke the awkward silence he was responsible for by answering Vicky about the Sergeant.

"If we wait for my Sergeant, he could assign me to one of the other missing persons houses and we lose our autonomy to conduct this investigation with relative freedom. No, we're going to go to Andrea's and search there first. That will offer some protection to you, Andrea, since your continued presence here is dubiously reasoned at best. If he raises a stink, I can say this was a protective measure. We also avoid having to explain you being here Vicky. And your dad will hopefully hear about none of this. After we look through Andrea's place, we'll go to Eileen Price's apartment. Maybe the Rock. What about school, Vicky?"

There were other considerations that hadn't been brought up yet. Bob knew Vicky had some firearms training because he had taught her. He didn't know about Andrea but he suspected she was no stranger to guns having grown up in the country, "We need to get both of you armed at some point. Andrea, how are firearms monitored for DA investigators? Would you be able to get stock for you and Vicky there? If not, we'll have to make a stop, talk with someone I know."

His forehead had a sheen of sweat. He needed a nip but that would only draw criticism from his partners. Next opportunity he got, he would sneak some. It was hard to tell what was missing in the plan so he said as much, "If I left any gaps, now is a good time to fill them or we can wait until we're at your place, Andrea."

That seemed to cover the bases.

The blood drained from Andrea's face as Detective Miller mentioned the implications behind tongues not matching IDs. Guilt was gnawing her insides. She was supposed to protect her little sister. Her father made her promise. If something happened to Kat, how was Andrea to tell her mother? Would they blame her for letting her sister go to such a rough area of town? And here she was as well, with body parts recovered, wishing all the horror on someone else that was not Kat. Andrea felt so selfish at those wishes, but she couldn't seem to change it, she couldn't wish that the tongue DID belong to her little sister.

She relaxed a tiny fraction when the Detective put his hand on her shoulder and reassured her. She nodded in agreement about leaving and going to her apartment, though she was still pretty sure they wouldn't find anything there.  She also gave a nod to Vicky for the well wishes, but she couldn't bring herself to answer verbally.

Andrea led them closer to the cars as she answered Miller's question about guns. "I don't have access to any guns from the office. I have a rifle at home, under my bed. No hand guns. Do you think we're in immediate danger from this person? I could get something else from Dad, but not tonight... I don't want to call them yet. Or I can buy one, I have a permit, again, not tonight."

She agreed to meet them at her apartment and gave Bob the address before getting in her sedan and driving away from the scene. She drove in a way that would allow them to follow if they wanted. Andrea drove into her underground lot, looking for her sister's car which was not in its spot and went to the front to let the Detective and his neice in. It was perhaps a bit strange that Vicky was coming with, but Andrea didn't have the energy to question it right now.

Andrea and her sister lived in a nicely appointed apartment building with a marble foyer and two keyed doors, but no doorman. The elevator had a sign 'out of order' so Andrea led them up three flights of stairs in her heels. She used a key on a deadbolt and handle and led the two of them into a clean and tidy apartment where she set down a large tote full of work things and her small, designer in purse. Immediately in from the entryway was the large one room area of a kitchen, separated from the rest of the space by an island, a living room with a sectional and TV and a small dining table. Two bedrooms we're on either side of the apartment. Andrea pointed at the bedroom closer to the kitchen. Its door was closed.

"That's Kat's room. That's mine. Fire escape is on my window, if that matters. Do you want me to just stay here? What are you looking for exactly?"

Andrea had moved in when she put her bags down on the kitchen island and she was standing there now with her hands on the edge of the counter. The cabinets on the wall had glass fronts. Drinking and wine glasses could be seen on the first shelf and Andrea found herself wishing she could just pour herself some of the boxed wine her sister kept in the fridge. Her nerves were shot and she needed to relax.

OOC: went with a rifle in the end because that's what night suggested.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Sun 10 Oct 2021.

He tapped his fingers on the roof of Andrea's sedan, "I just think it will prove necessary going forward. We should be safe tonight though. He gains nothing from targeting us now. After all, he wants the press conference."

Bob felt terrible having to go into detail why they wanted the evidence they had to be conclusive. It was the same reason he wasn't letting Vicky out of his sight for the night, despite his reassurance they were safe. The awful has a habit of happening in this city. He wanted to tell Andrea something good, that medical technology has come a long way and a graft could go the distance. And maybe their perpetrator decided to blink with Katherine. If there isn't a match, then his motivations may not strictly be of a logic free occultism. But he could only go off what they had.

Bob followed behind Andrea, every once in awhile checking his rear view mirrors to see if they were being followed. He broke the air of its silence, "Vicky, this probably isn't the time but...I wasn't always like this. It, um, it got bad after being a UC, undercover, and the divorce. I, uh, I lost my moorings. And your dad couldn't bring me out of it. But I have a stack of birthday cards for you and gifts that you're too old for. When we get past this, if you're comfortable, maybe we can keep in touch?"

They pulled in and followed Andrea up and into the apartment.

Bob couldn't wait for that private moment and he took a sip from his flask, a small one he hoped it would be noted, "When it rains, it pours. Part of the reason I wanted to come here first is for you to pack what you need, Andrea. He had a set of your keys. Your locks need to be changed at a minimum but it would be better for you to either get a hotel room or, if you don't mind messy, live the bachelor lifestyle with me during the nights. I have some board games."

He leaned on the kitchen island, "We've become a new animal, ladies. One that does not walk without the others when the sun goes down. Vicky, as unlikely as I believe you are connected to this, Mr. Engels has tied your fate with ours. In the, again unlikely, event that our animal assassin and the Yorkshire murderer are one and the same, you're here for another reason: keeping your roommate safe. We are all going to have to look at our social footprint and look at who we must protect by becoming absent from their lives. I happen to be in the room with mine because I lead a blessed life of solitude."

He took a sharp breath, "Andrea, we are looking for something that could be missing from the apartment. And we are looking for something added. If there's a bullet missing from your ammunition, that's a threat. If there's a lock of hair, proof of life. He will use the access he had to leave a message. So no, I need your help to find anything incongruous. But I'll take a look at Katherine's room on my own first while you pack and check your rifle. It might have been tampered with."

He offered the smallest of smiles to Andrea, "Half a glass would do you good and you will still be in control of your faculties. Granted, you do not have as much practice as I do but in this small moment of respite, I would take relief where you can."

He looked at Vicky and awkwardly offered the same relief given Andrea's receptivity.

Andrea felt a chill run down her back at the thought that a known serial killer had her keys, could have made copies and could, in fact, have been in her apartment.  She looked around the common spaces of her apartment from her vantage point in the kitchen, there were no lurking bodies in the shadows and a police detective was standing between her and most of the rest of her apartment, which she was suddenly very happy for.  She felt her hands begin to shake a bit and she rested them on the tile counter to steady herself.

"Yes. I think not living here until this is solved is a good idea.  I will call my landlord and get the locks changed.  I can afford a few nights at a hotel.  Don't you think it would be a bit... improper... for me to 'crash' at your place, Detective?  Unless you think that it's not safe.  Should I be asking for police protection?  Are you volunteering to be my police protection?"  Her eyes drifted momentarily to the pocket where he had put away his flask and she looked back up at his face then, assessing his sobriety.  She had not seemed to have any attention on it before this moment, or maybe the moment just earlier when he had had a sip.  She waved her hand at the fridge.  "Vicky you are welcome to whatever you may find in there. You know, if you're hungry or thirsty.  I'm not really feeling either right now."

"Before you get busy in Kat's room, can you just check mine and the bathroom to make sure no one is going to jump out at me from behind a curtain?" She asked Detective Miller.  While he did that, she got on the phone with her landlord, explaining that a perpetrator had gotten a set of her keys and that she would need the locks changed as soon as possible.  She also instructed him to give access to any police officers that asked, no need for a warrant, at least until she told him otherwise.

Miller found her bathroom and bedroom to be just as clean and tidy as the rest of the apartment that he had seen.  Her bed was made with a silky blue comforter and her closet full of nice clothing similar to what he had seen her wear in their interactions: luxury fabrics, designer labels - power clothes, not masculine, but certainly elevating.  The window with the fire escape was closed and locked.  There were no other entrances to the apartment.  When he moved on to Kat's room on the other hand, it was like walking into another world, clothes on the floor, text books stacked in apparently random piles on the desk and bedside tables and the bed was not made.  Kat's life was apparently much more chaotic than her older sister's.

Andrea went into her room once she was given the all-clear and she shut her door.  The rifle was under her bed in a locked case and when she pulled it out it was apparently untouched.  Nothing in her room looked out of place to her, but she was finding it hard to concentrate or see things through the filmy glaze of almost-tears that she kept having to blink away.  Andrea started to pack a suitcase and hanging bag with some things that she would need, but ended up sitting on the end of her bed staring at a picture of her and her sister from a city benefit they had attended the year before.  They were standing together with their arms around each other in complimentary dresses, both with huge smiles on their faces and both very much alive.  Kat was about the same height as Andrea, but her hair was short and dark, her eyes set more widely on her face, her nose upturned at the end.  They were very different, but that didn't matter to Andrea.  She loved her sister and the growing loss was beginning to gnaw its way into her heart.

OOC: failed the investigation roll, so Andrea will be no help on that front.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:18, Tue 12 Oct 2021.

"Um. Yeah, there are a lot of people hiring in pharmaceuticals, I'm just not really sure that's what I want to do. It's, uh, exploitative." Vicky felt real silly explaining in the vaguest possible terms her misgivings about that industry, so she clammed up for a second and did not continue on.

Bob mentioning forensics caught her attention, although she did not show it. In fact, she never had, but...it was an option. She would need to switch tracks, probably, but Vicky was pretty damned sure she could manage it.

Her dad would hate that, but he would get over it pretty quickly, she thought.

"Oh, god, don't bring up the Blue Glue. Someone had to call 911 for that teacher to get her hand off the table, that's why they gave me 3rd place. That lady had a vendetta against me the rest of the year." She was totally red in the face, but smiling a little bit at least.

Then the awkward silence hit. "Yeah, he's..." She didn't finish this sentence, talking about her dad. It seemed pretty clear that Bob wasn't doing as well, and she didn't want to go on about it if at all possible.

"I don't have any, uh, handguns or anything like that."

She started listening for a while here, just trying to absorb the goings-on. When Bob started explaining how he...ended up like that, Victoria wasn't sure how to respond  at first. She thought on it and finally said, "Yeah, I'd like to keep in touch."

That was early enough in their trip over. Following Andrea up was tiring. When she got to the apartment, Vicky put in a token effort, but was clearly not as well-practiced as Bob at just searching for stuff, and eventually she found herself on the sidelines. When offered a drink or food, Vicky rejected it with a shake of her head. She was pretty sure she was too anxious to digest anything properly.

She found herself at one side of the apartment, staring down at people walking by outside. She wondered what some of them were doing, what they were up to. She wondered if the safety instructions had been dispersed to the university students yet, and checked her phone.

Well, she hadn't gotten anything about safety instructions yet.

Bob was quiet for a moment at Andrea's questions as he reflected on the brief conversation with Vicky. He couldn't have expected it to go any better than it did with Linda before she left or Vicky's mom when Jesse would have to appeal to her as to Bob. And then that was before the Chalk Brothers case when it all went to hell. Finally he snapped out of it,

"Completely improper. But then, I'm more concerned with keeping our circle small than propriety. If you opt for the hotel, which makes sense, we will widen who has access to you. Police protection will be inevitable because you will be assumed to be a high value target. You won't have freedom of movement. My apartment affords some anonymity for a short time. In reality, even that's just a quick fix when the press get involved. The ideal would be a safe house that doubles for operations headquarters, something appropriated from a previous case. We switch cars as needed. This is another reason we need your boss to intervene and make this our number one priority. Maintaining the case with resources and manpower is what killed us last time; namely, they didn't. It isn't just departmental lethargy.

Bob looked out the fire escape, checking up and down at the maintenance of it, whether the ladder had to be kicked loose or if it were a small staircase,"None of this is orthodox because I'm trying to be on your protection duty while keeping you involved. That makes me terrible at my job. After tonight, you shouldn't be enmeshed in this case. Either of you. But I can't keep you safe if I'm not with you. That's really my problem though. Andrea, you could easily maintain your job with an escort, go back to the hotel---wit sec would cover the tab. Vicky, you're probably not on the radar. Both of you should think on it, I guess, because it'll be hard to rationalize your continued presence. For my peace of mind, I'm willing to stretch credulity and keep you on."

Peace of mind...what mind. You're an idiot, Bob. Let em lead their lives. That wasn't it though. The case would spill over. He felt certain. Better to be used to it now, right? The endless querying of his own thoughts was making him weary. He gratefully took Andrea up on looking through the other rooms first.

Bob went through the room with a practiced hand and his eyes landed on an open jewelry box. He lifted up a single earring, "Cats-eye stone. You can tell cause of the striation in the middle, mimics the iris. Blame nights of misguided gifts and drinking for that tidbit. Real cute. He's really insistent on taking credit for both. Can you tell me if the earring has any more significance? Were they a gift? Who might have seen you with them? I'll go through the rest of the apartment. Your bathroom is clear. This room too."

He made his way to Kat's room and didn't have to search long. The intruder had left it right on the desk: a gift. There was a bag with a white powder in it and a scrawled note, ""Cats love their nip." It was neater than the writing at the crime scene.

"Vicky, your school is ostensibly kitted out with lab equipment. Can we analyze this on your campus? I want to get ahead of the curve. To the surprise of no-one, I don't think it's actually cat nip."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Fri 15 Oct 2021.

When Detective Miller explained why he thought it was a good idea that they stay in the same location and not split up she had to admit to herself that it made a kind of sense.  She wanted to be a part of the investigation for her sister and whomever was behind all of this and Detective Miller, for whatever reason, was giving her that chance.  She knew that she should take it. But she was still hesitant about staying at the apartment of a man whom she knew as an acquaintance at the office.  She was sure that there was something to know about him and if she worked in the police station she would have picked up something, but basically she just knew what everyone knew and what she had picked up in their interactions.  He had a run of bad luck starting with the Yorkshire Murders and ending with the corruption investigation, he wasn't currently married (though she had an idea that he had been once), no kids and he liked his alcohol, though he could apparently hold it.  None of those things really effected how he might act toward her were she to stay with him and she wasn't sure if he would try to take advantage of that situation.  She certainly could see the benefit of a base in the same location.

Finally she nodded.  "If Vicky stays with you, I will too. It will make communication and coordination a lot easier.  I am not sure how much I want to go to work right now."  she looked down at the small watch on a dainty chain around her wrist.  "Considering...  I will probably take a personal day today."

She followed Miller into her bedroom and stood in the doorway while he looked around.  When he picked up her ear ring her face fell. She walked up to stand next to him in front of her dresser and looked at the lonely green stone in his fingers, the line bisecting it was perfectly straight and shone white against the green.  "Kat got them for me on a trip to Europe her Sophomore year- two years ago.  She said that they are supposed to bring you luck and ward off evil..."  She swallowed back a bitter remark. "They are real cats-eye, not the cheap stuff, tiger's eye.  I wear them all the time. So anyone could have seen me in them." She sighed.  "What else is this guy going to take from me?  I'd like it back when the evidence is released.  Does that make this a crime scene now? Should I be packing things or not?"

If given ok, Andrea went back to packing- taking enough that she wouldn't need to return to her apartment for a week or more.  She also cleaned out her fridge and pantry of the perishables. If she wouldn't be home she didn't want stuff going bad. And besides, if she was going to a bachelor pad she wanted access to more than rice, pickles, ketchup and beer.  At the last minute she threw Kat's half empty box of white wine into her cooler. At some point she would want to relax and she considered it better than taking a Xanax.  While they were still there, Andrea made herself an espresso in a single brew machine on the counter. She had a feeling sleep was not on the agenda and she wanted to remain sharp.  She offered some to Vicky and Miller as well.

Bob took out a thin blue glove from his coat pocket, snapped it on and brought the baggy into the kitchen, working through the agenda in quick order while gratefully accepting the espresso, You can pack. I'll attest to the condition in which we found that there was something taken from the apartment and CSU will do what they do. We'll put the evidence back as we found it with a little bit missing. Andrea and Vicky, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like Vicky to instruct you, Andrea, on how much to scoop of this powder into a bag for our own portion of it to examine. That way, Andrea, you'll have touched the spoon and bag and other surface---one less thing that Vicky and I touched. It won't matter in the long run since they'll need to eliminate our prints but better safe."

He'd appreciate if Vicky took up Andrea's suggestion not just to make her more comfortable. There would be time to talk and he could keep watch on her too. Somehow though, he didn't think Vicky would want to cross that divide. He couldn't blame her.

"I'm gonna call the sergeant now and let him know I did a preliminary search. Ask him if we can do elimination at the station later tomorrow. We should see if we can do that analysis at your school, Vicky. I know you must both be tired so if you want to crash at my place now, I can give you the address and key. For myself, I have to search Eileen Price's place now. If you both want to come, you can. I suspect though that it will not be pretty."

Vicky thought on it for a while, and then she responded to Bob. "Yeah, I'll stay im this. My friend might be in trouble, and I can't let that be. I need to look into this. So, yeah, I'm staying with you."

"I can get us in the lab at the uni. I know everyone in there, anyways, so I can even get people to overlook...whatever we end up doing."

She knew she would have to steel herself for it, but she decided to stay on even for Eileen Price's place. "I'll be able to handle it, I think. I'll come with you for that, too."

She turned to help Andrea with taking a sample.

OOC: Long day, busted computer. But, here's a phone post!

Bob did a quick mental calculus: college or Price. He gave into the part that said college. The hour wasn't ideal but getting a head start on figuring out what this powder is would be beneficial to keeping ahead of the main team. For as long as he could, he was keeping this unit together. And it gave him a good feeling hearing Vicky talk about her schooling, the social maneuvering or just being tied in. The side of him that wanted to catch this guy or "catch" him was more cynical---she can help to circumvent forensics and backlogs. There was a tug of war he wasn't ready for. Just keep focused. She is willing to go the distance.

"Just because we're going to your school now doesn't mean I don't want a tour and some cafeteria food in the future. Semi-joke aside, I think it'll be a better idea to go to your school first and avoid students going about. And hopefully we'll be out before the sun comes up barring processing doesn't take longer."

He shuffled his feet, not used to being on the in track anymore, "Thank you. Both of you. We should hit the road. Mind if we pile into your ride, Andrea? I feel like long rides in my car is a punishment you ladies shouldn't have to endure."

Andrea hesitated at taking a sample of the powder. She tried to recall from her law books if this type of thing would be considered tampering with evidence and how much terrible she could get into if it came out. She also wondered if it would cause any trouble for the DA's office during prosecution; if this ever made its way to prosecution. She decided not to ask Miller. Ignorance could be used as a defence in cases like this.

Andrea got a long handled spoon and took what Vicky directed, putting it into a zip lock. She avoided touching the bad that the power was left in and let the gloved detective handle it.

She washed the espresso cups and put them away before leading the others to her car. The sedan had a big enough trunk to hold her clothing, gun case and the food she had taken from her kitchen.

The interior of her car was grey leather and the back seat had fair leg room. The car was as neat as her apartment and the radio turned on to a news station.  Andrea turned it down when they got in.

"How did it go talking to your Sergeant, Detective?" she asked Miller.

She was glad she had had the espresso, it kept her awake for the drive to the university. Once there, no help in the lab, she sat in a chair and watched, fatigue pulling at her body as she waited.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to help " she told her partners.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:43, Fri 22 Oct 2021.

Bob shook his head distractedly, "I'll let you know what Sarge thinks presently."

He radioed with his hand unit and waited for the fuzz to pass before his sergeant's voice came over the comm. Sergeant Bukowski. The man had chosen a different vice than drinking and that vice had turned Bukowski into something closer to unshaped clay than a sculpted person, fat cascading from beneath his chin and other places as if he were some sort of gelatin expanding. The man spoke labored and irritated, "I don't like surprises and I don't like being undermined. I'm going to do you the courtesy you didn't do me: I'm gonna let you run your rope. I'm not naive enough to think you haven't already squeezed your way through a corner. What do we have right now?"

Bob apprised him of taking Andrea back to her place as a potential crime scene and what they found there. He didn't mention the sample he took but he did say where they were going, "One of the cats belonged to my niece's roommate. I'm keeping eyes on her until the morning and then plan to go to the Price residence. After Price, I'll fall back in line. I have to see this through though."

Bukowski coughed a phlegmy breath into the radio, "I hate every word you said and the ones you didn't. Smart--keeping the DA's anointed next to you. I just hope she doesn't end up regretting it. When morning breaks, I don't want to hear anymore about civilians traipsing through crime scenes. You want company, you get a partner like everyone else. And don't make promises you can't keep. When have you stayed in line? For your sake, I hope you do color in the lines but I won't shed a tear if you flush your career for good. You want Price, fine. Bukowski out."

Bob wasn't sure whether the volume had projected and the ladies of the car heard him being chewed out but they certainly heard Bob equivocate and sidestep with his words. He offered a thumbs up to Andrea in the mirror, "I'm the sergeant's favorite blue son. Nothing to worry about."

No one seemed to be around when they went into the chem lab where Vicky seemed to light up being in familiar territory. Like Andrea, there wasn't much he could do with this aspect of the investigation. He decided to stand guard beside the door.

"You grew up in the country, right Andrea? What was that like?"

Andrea leaned forward on the empty lab table where she had taken up residence and put her chin in her hand.  She had changed into a pair of tailored jeans and a pretty green cardigan at home, something which was probably in her "casual" wardrobe, but was still very out of place at 3 AM on any college campus, excepting maybe an ivy league.

When Detective Miller asked about home she gave a small wistful smile.  "It was very different. It was lovely.  I mean, it wasn't all bucolic, but it was certainly less hectic, less dangerous and... happier... than the city. My family has over 1500 acres of farm, my dad and his two brothers.  They all work it together and split the cost and profits equally. I guess that's another thing that was different- it was all equitable growing up.  I've had this feeling that you know, you get rewarded equal to your effort, but you also help others to be able to put in the effort and you bring them up with you; help your neighbor and give to those less able. Unless they're just plain lazy, that kind of thing you don't tolerate." She chuckled to herself at that, perhaps at a particular memory she took a moment to consider.  "It was good.  But also not something that I wanted to keep doing."  She wrinkled her nose. "I don't love farm smell and farm schedule. Though I suppose I still get up with the sun.  It's not to feed cows.  And my mom kept putting these farm boys in front of me.  They weren't what I was looking for, so I had to widen my circle.  My sweet mother had the best of intentions.  I am sure they are still hoping I bring home a serious boyfriend for the holidays."  She yawned. "I am lucky to have the family I have.  They are all good people, no big mental or physical health issues. We are blessed.  We've not had any real tragedies..." She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth and closed her eyes momentarily, cutting her gaze off from the detective by the door. The words, unspoken, until now hung in the air between them.

After a moment she pulled in a shuddering breath and opened her eyes again.  Only a little moisture in them caused a bit of extra shine over her pupils.  "What about you Detective?"

Bob could almost smell the clean air and cow pies simultaneously, feel the callouses growing on his hands and he wasn't exactly a white collar smoothie. He knew what it was to work but not like farm life. Still, it sounded like the ideal way to grow up, boy or girl. Conversations are a game of tennis and she just served a big lob. What about you, Bob. He looked over at Vicky, who seemed absorbed in what she was working on but really who could say what she'll hear and what should he say.

He shrugged off his dingy brown overcoat and put it on a stool, rotating his arms to get more loose as if the mere act of talking personal details would be some kind of activity, "I did not grow up in the country. Born and bred with pavement under my feet. What's there to say about the city, right? Glass and steel sprouting like trees and the smell of gas and cigarettes. It has its own charms, I guess. The press of the people as you make your way down the street, we're like one big organism.

The Millers, despite our namesake, were not bread makers but we've always been true blue and before that wore tin stars and served our country. One could say we're a family that serves but the less charitable might say we're addicted to the blood. Either way, green, red and blue are the Miller colors I guess.

I grew up with one brother and one sister. If, um, if you're asking about tragedies, Jesse and I lost our sister Allison when I was fifteen and Jesse was five. She was eleven. She was a hemophiliac and an avid ice skater. Fell, cut herself on her skate. Help couldn't come in time. Dad took it hard and out on me. Mom coddled Jesse, understandably. I chased their approval, joined the academy right after the minimum in college. Became the youngest detective in my district. Eventually, I stopped chasing approval and forgiveness and just kept moving forward. Under the advisement of counsel, I have been instructed to invoke my 5th Amendment rights."

Bob watched Vicky move with precision and care in dispensing the powder into some solution. He then turned his attention levelly to Andrea, "You had more in mind though, didn't you. About Yorkshire... about the Chalk Brothers and the ensuing corruption scandal, didn't you."

Andrea listened intently. She had this way of listening to a person when they were talking, something that Bob had noticed before in their interactions, where it seems as though you are her only care in the world and the only thing that she is paying attention to.  "I'm so sorry." She told him in response to his tragic story and she looked sincere.  What else could you say to that anyway?

"I have a brother and and sister too.  Kat is 8 years younger than me, but my brother is only 11 months older than me.  It's called 'Irish twins.'  Of course, racial slur aside, I always liked the idea of being my brother's twin.  I think he tolerated me when we were younger." she smiled.  "He's ok with me now.  Might even like me."

Andrea rubbed her arms a bit over the sleeves of her sweater.  Science labs were known for being chilly; the better to preserve samples.  The lack of sleep and the fact that she hadn't eaten now for hours were getting to her though and her body was not doing an adequate job of keeping itself warm.

"I wasn't actually asking you to get into things that might be tough to talk about.  But I can understand why your attention might be on those incidents tonight and I am happy to listen if you want to talk.  In fact, hearing about it all from your perspective might help me understand better.  Not only what is happening here, but what happened to you.  And I would like to understand that better, truly." She leaned back a bit in the chair as though settling in to really take in what he was going to tell her and she watched him, meeting his eyes whenever he looked in her direction.

He wanted to offer her the overcoat but it was a microcosm of the city and its smells. Also, it was an act that presumed some intimacy he'd already leaned on quite a bit in the night. Vicky's brow was scrunched in concentration and he got the impression it was a sensitive moment in whatever was happening so he turned back to Andrea, steepling his fingers and leaning his chin on them as he thought about what there was to say. He didn't lack for subjects. The heterochromia served to knock him off balance and she had her way of drawing you in, both killer qualities for a lawyer to be.

"I have a hard time imagining your brother would need much persuasion to like you. You should know, assuming you intend to be a prosecutor, about the divide. We feed the membranous wall that keeps the people from seeing just how fragile our safety is. It lets them dwell in the world of life and only the occasional brush with the dead. We straddle the line. But Yorkshire--Yorkshire damn near tore the divide apart for me. It swallowed me whole. It's in my skin. Tonight is about holding up the wall. But if it falls, just---"

Close your eyes. That's the thought that ran through his head as he watched Andrea's intent stare, brown and blue, terra firma in one glance even as he was upended. Don't let them change or lose their shine. But he couldn't bring himself to mention the bodies, the odd ritualistic symbols and the dead eyed stare of Eileen Price, her vision diving into the void. He couldn't bring himself to think about what was coming next. But words came tumbling out.

"We're animals. That's the new message ostensibly. No speech or he refuses to hear. That's the violence with the tongues. We're all supposed to become Eileen Price. Shocked and awed, cowed into silence. If the incidents are connected. Andrea, tell me more about Kat. Is she brave, stubborn, shy, timid, strong, sensitive---is there more to her than meets the eye?"

Andrea appreciated Miller's use of the present tense with regard to her sister more than he knew.  She wasn't sure that she wanted to talk about Kat. He had piqued her interest in offering to talk about the cases that had ruined his career, but it would be incredibly rude to ask and she wasn't ready to step across a line and try to be a confidante or friend rather than a temporary partner.  So, she would tell him about Kat because he asked and perhaps, in a way, it would lend her strength and maybe Kat would know she was talking about her, working on finding her, coming to get her.

"She's vibrant." Andrea told him.  A smile, more in the eyes than her mouth, lit up her face as she looked into her memories of her little sister.  "I wouldn't describe her as brave so much as, hm, insouciant in the face of danger?  It's from my dad. He brought us up to feel like there's no need to be afraid of anything as long as you are capable.  And Kat is confident in her capabilities.  It's a good way of living really.  When you walk down a dark alley without a care in the world it's like the shadows don't fall over you, you know?" Andrea controlled her thoughts away from the darker possibilities of the present and what could have happened to make Kat disappear into the dark the night before. "And she's kind; she's helpful.  Kat is majoring in social work.  She wants to help people, lift them up when they have fallen, especially kids." she paused and then added. "And she's funny.  In a kind of intelligent sort of way. Like ironically and cracking witty jokes.  That's my little sister. I love to sit with her and just talk and then when we finally go to bed my stomach and my face hurt because we have been laughing so much.  She's a better person than me. She'll be a great mom. Do you have any kids?"

Andrea was self aware enough to know that Kat wanting to care for victims made her a better person than Andrea who wanted to see the bad guy punished. Andrea did a lot of things to be nice and kind and she took care of her boss, knew everyone by name and even sent birthday cards, but she did have this feeling that deep down she didn't do it just to be sweet and nice.  She always got something out of it- people who liked her did things for her, plus, she just liked to be liked, it gave her a thrill to know that they did.  Kat just wanted to be kind because she thought people needed kindness.

But something else that Miller had said also needed addressing.

She took a deep breath. "I know about the divide.  I work in the prosecutors office, remember?  There are certain people who have to be able to look over and confront the evil that exists. It takes a lot...  You..."  She had been looking at the table and she looked back at Bob again, looked him in the eye, assessing.  Being on the job with him rather than seeing him in the middle of the day at the office with no danger beneath his feet, made him look different. His eyes looked different, clearer, sharper with more purpose somehow.  "You're not gone.  Maybe you just need a little closure? I hope you get it with this case.  I don't... I think we'll succeed this time. Something about it is sloppier, all these clues and trails?  He wants to get caught. You will.  I'll help in whatever way you think I can."  Or that I think I can.  Since I won't rest on this until Kat is found and the bad guy too.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:53, Wed 27 Oct 2021.

Vicky worked diligently and, as always, at entirely her own pace, letting the more experienced of their trio discuss everything. She stood by, dealing with the powder properly. She figured someone would think it was weird, what they were going to do, but people at the university took to her quite well.

OOC: That's a joke there for y'all. Thanks for bearing with me, folks. :)

She did pause when Bob told the story about his sister--Vicky paused and listened, pretending to continue working when actually she was just curious what he was going to say. She didn't think the look of shock that crossed her face for just a moment had shown clearly enough for Bob to clock it, but she couldn't be sure of that. She really paused for just about a full second after he finished speaking about Allison.

After that pause, she returned to her task and finished it quickly.

She didn't know anything about the divide, not really. Vicky's dad had always kept that wall strong for his entire branch of the family. She was vaguely aware of how things really were, but she'd been sheltered from a lot of it.

When she had the chance, she did say: "Hey, uh, we should go soon."

She wanted to talk about her aunt, but she wasn't sure how to broach the subject. After all, her dad had never told her about--well, she hadn't heard about any of that. She hadn't known that her dad had a sister, nor had she known even that grandpa had ever...mistreated Bob in any way. Her dad gave the impression that everything was peachy keen growing up.

He found a tear trickle from the corner of his eye. Allison was mischievous. She would've been someone special, like Kat sounds to be. He felt more confident in Kat's chances to endure but would she put herself between a victim and the killer? Was there a separate clock they had to worry about? He felt like Kat would be the lynchpin this time. There was no sense sharing any of that though. It was the innocuous question that made him freeze and he looked over to Vicky unconsciously. What was she thinking with that look that he caught the tail of. Maybe he'd imagined it.

"My brother Jesse is a better man, Vicky's father. I used to be 'better, deeper may be more accurate' at the job but really, the difference between him and me was the alleyway. At some point, he would stop looking down the length of it, call for backup, preserve himself. I would go further. Never had kids. My wife left not too long after Yorkshire because of that and other things. I had no moorings. That's why I could do UC work. That's what Chalk was about...the gang that left only bodies and chalk outlines in their wake. There's certain latitude that's granted to the activities you're allowed to commit to maintain cover. But that means the line gets blurry. You choose between bad and worse. Jesse can't be anyone but who he is: a good man. He made a life for himself in a difficult field and he always comes home. I wonder if that's a design, the older sibling being the umbrella to keep the rest dry, unfettered, gloried. Either way, he made a family and I chose closure, as you put it. My case closure rate is still higher than the average by far."

He could feel the parch in his throat but left the flask where it was, "Your sister, I can't promise but she sounds transcendent enough that she'll pull out of this. You're here, among other reasons, to meet her in the middle because she'll need that."

Does he want to get caught or does he want witnesses, need them. The difference felt more than academic. "Besides getting them back, success is a troubled term. But I'll certainly take it," he offered with a small smile. The smile left as quickly as it appeared and he walked over to where Vicky had finished the work.


"I'm going to check the hall. You probably want to swing by the dorm, right? We should have enough time. You have her eyes, Vicky."

He didn't mean to be terse but the question about kids had him on edge. You get to a certain age and you have to reconcile the choices you've made. When he saw what Jesse had, it always brought doubt as to how much of that "good" was worth it. Vicky was good. And it didn't take sacrifice.

Bob shined his penlight in the hall and drew his service revolver. He had to squint to see he wasn't alone in the hall. They must be adjoined to a bio lab because there was a liberated mouse staggering. It let out a haunting squeak and then stopped moving. His eyes moved to the door and he moved slowly to the mouse. It had white fur that was ruffled and in the white were smears of red as if it had been brushed with fingers. But no wounds. The mouse died from fright. What the hell was in that room.

He returned to the chem lab and dragged a file cabinet in front of the door, "What kind of animals does biology work with here?"

He unclipped his gun and checked the ammo before reloading it, "Someone is or was here."

Andrea felt the awkwardness close in on their conversation and a little regret at asking him about kids because it stopped their exchange dead in its tracks.  Vicky finishing her work was only an excuse for him to get out of the conversation and knowing she created that reaction is what made her feel a bit bad.  She filed away certain details - his wife leaving him, the choices he had to make while undercover, what he wishes had been different- for things to know and perhaps avoid later, but maybe bring up too depending on the circumstances.

Andrea was preparing herself to get up out of her chair when Miller rushed back in the room and barricaded the door.  Not being alone in a dorm lab was not unusual, some people did work into the wee hours of the morning. But Bob's reaction and checking his gun certainly implied that this was dangerous company.  Andrea was suddenly wide awake, forgetting about being cold, tired or hungry.  The shock of adrenaline propelled her out of her chair and it fell back with what seemed like a very loud clatter.  She cringed at the noise.

"Shouldn't you call for back..." up she started to say, but cut herself off when she realized that if he did that he'd be asked about what the hell he was doing in the chem lab and then have to get into explanations about tampering with evidence, involving civilians in an investigation, working outside of police regulations and generally being a wild card.  She and Vicky were his backup.  She wished she had brought in her gun, even if it was better long range.

"What do you want us to do?" she asked instead.

She didn't know how to respond to Bob's exploration of his relationship with her dad, and so...she let him speak. It seemed like he had a lot of feelings about it that he maybe hadn't ever addressed.

"Yeah, your sister sounds...pretty amazing. I think she'll be fine." She tried to reassure Andrea, but in fact she wasn't as certain as Bob was, and this came through in her voice.

She contemplated, briefly, suggesting a therapist for Bob, before realizing this would come off as offensive. But he definitely needed it--for growing up, for the undercover work (which she had never heard of), for the cases that went bad, for the drinking. For not being able to stay connected with her. So she resolved to listen as she led them through the halls on the way to the chem lab, which in fact was adjacent to a bio lab.

She did respond to Bob's comment about the dorms: "Yeah, we can stop by the dorms soon, once we figure this out." Then, he said that. She paused for a good second.

When they arrived at the chem lab, she met the grad student who was always around in the middle of the night, Lenny.

"Hey, Vic. You bringing cops in here now?" He looked, suspiciously, back at both Andrea and Bob.

Her embarrassment was evident, and he almost laughed. "Shut up Lenny, this is my uncle and the DA's assistant and it's important--and you can't tell any professors for now. And, uh, you should stay here but...out of our way." He seemed unconvinced, so she simply said: "Favor?"

He looked at her, pushing his glasses up his nose, and then brushed a slightly oily lock of hair back out of his face. He held up an invisible bottle in his hand and took an imaginary swig: Vicky owed him a beer for this, at the very least.

As she was nearly finished getting set up, Bob arrived. When he asked about the animals, she said simply: "Uhh, I hope you didn't get too close if it was like, a mouse. They're doing some kind of an anthrax study over there."

"Someone's here? You don't think it has...anything to do with all this?"

She looked over at the far end of the lab, where Lenny was sat, listening to some music with his headphones. "What about him?"

Bob barely suppressed his mounting irritation and thought, "Is this the rompa room?" He knelt down, keeping his finger on the trigger guard and his gun angled downward between six and seven o'clock. He drew his ankle piece and surreptitiously gave it to Andrea, speaking quietly for the both of them, "Vicky must need to do more work in this chem lab. I don't know the difference between the two but given there wasn't a course on practical biology, the sciences did not hold as much appeal to me as they might have otherwise. Andrea, I want you to keep an eye on Vicky with that and I guess we're holing up here while she does more work. I'll try to get this plus one out of here. Because someone did get real close to that mouse and pet it with bloody fingers. Given the danger level of that room, I don't know how I'll get in there but I can't leave a suspect like we have in a room with a weaponized chemical agent. Christ, is that what he left behind in Kat's room? A brick of anthrax?"

He reholstered his piece, able to draw as quick as any gun in the west if he had to and donned his overcoat once more. With a sigh, he slumped down in a chair near Lenny and jiggled the wire, motioning with his flask.

"How about an advance on that favor? You get a pull at some nice fifteen year old scotch and then you hit the bricks back to your room with a sudden case of amnesia."

Why did Bob have to mention that possibility? Vicky didn't pause immediately, but after a few moments, as Bob was headed over to talk to Lenny, she did. She looked straight ahead, at a dim lamp on the other side of the room, quite dumbly. She had thought it would be cocaine or something, but anthrax was a definite possibility. She would have to find out--fortunately, she would be able to manage with the things here. There were a few biochem folks, so equipment got shuffled around occasionally.

She was done setting up. Then she realized that Bob was talking to her friend Lenny. She rushed in to pull him back with an immediate sense of urgency, saving Lenny from the probable embarrassment of interacting with Bob here. She whispered to him. "Hey, if that was anthrax, we can't let him go anywhere now that we've had contact. I mean, none of us can go anywhere else until we find out. Besides, he doesn't live on campus."

She looked back at Andrea, waving her over to the conversation. "And we don't have anything on hand to make sure any antibiotics we take are effective, so if he's going anywhere, he's definitely going to the hospital. For us, even if some kind of treatment is successful, we'll probably get sick."

"Andrea, I'm not trying to, like, alarm you or anything, but if it's anthrax your sister could have...a day and a half to two days left?"

Looking back to Bob, she had to ask something: "Was...was there any anthrax the last time? Did that ever pop up in your cases?"

Lenny had sensed something really big was up around the first time he saw a handgun. By now, with the way Victoria was acting, he was damned sure of it, and he stepped forward to interject himself quite unhelpfully, addressing himself to Bob a bit nervously. "Hey, I can go if uhh...you need me to go?"

OOC: Woops, imagine all of those are Coral instead. I switched up my text coloring between two characters. :)

But, alas, I use Seagreen for untrustworthy sorts.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:41, Mon 01 Nov 2021.

Bob had stumbled onto a lot of luck spelled with a capital F. Why in the name of all that was holy did they deal with these kinds of things in a university? He shook his head at Lenny, "I'm afraid it's the opposite, kid. You're sticking around for a little bit. Maybe you can give us some insight in the meantime...I don't suppose you're a biology major? Can you tell us the work they do in the bio lab?"

He held Andrea by the shoulders and looked her square in the eyes because Vicky, while talented in many areas, had the tact right now of a world weary mortician and Bob suspected his own right now was barely better. He took her to the side, away from Vicky and Lenny, speaking in a hush, "Even if this is part of his plan, he wouldn't do that yet. Spectacle. He wants us all to witness so...it's not there yet and she hasn't been exposed. I'll bet my life on it. But I'm not confident about our clock. So, we're gonna keep it together but work like we don't have much time."

After one reassuring squeeze to her shoulder, Bob reunited with the others and couldn't be more miserable, "I need a gas mask and protective clothing. I have to go in that bio lab. You guys have equipment like that around here? Is there a computer around that stores the kind of general experiments being worked on, like a synopsis or abstract of the work?"

Lenny scratched the back of his head. "No, I'm pretty much chemistry all the way, but they're good lads over there in the bio labs. I only know a little bit about what they're doing, though. There's the anthrax stuff--which I guess you're maybe talking about--they're in Controlled Environments looking at, like, preventing and reversing antibiotic resistance. Let's see, there was the cockroaches stuff. They're doing experiments on cockroach social interactions and sleep rhythms. There was something else, too, since they got all these cockroaches now. There's a guy in microbiology doing something on HPV, I think."

Vicky spoke up next: "Yeah, they'd have all that over there."

Andrea took the gun from Bob checked that the safety was on and tucked it into the back of her jeans, pulling her cardigan down as much as she could to cover it. Luckily, as a weapon with on the ankle, it wasn't huge.

"Sure. I'll watch over her here. But, I don't like the idea of you going in there alone." she said quietly.

She watched the discussion about the possible anthrax exposure, thinking about the timeline.

"I don't think that sample could be anthrax. I mean, it's a huge sample and I doubt the lab would have bricks of it around. Plus the timing is wrong, if there is something going on now or some sort of staged spectacle now, he would have had to have stolen a sample earlier in order to leave it in Kat's room.  And a theft of that nature would have surely been reported. Then there would be heightened security and police presence around here. It's a week day, you'd have heard about something like that around the office right? Vicky, I think it's drugs, but we need to confirm that, please."

She looked at Bob, getting ready to go into the lab. "I should stand in the hallway. Then I can help monitor both places, right?"

It would be sure to draw some consternation but he took a slug from his flask and then left it on a chem table to show he wasn't planning on a bender.

"There are mice in there too or this one came through the venting. Whatever this brick is, it's turning into a big distraction which we have to dispel. 'Cats like their nip.' I believe that was what was on the note. I want to say it's drugs too but what. If we literally interpolate the theft of the earring and the 'gift' of the powder, I would venture it's a hallucinogen or something with psychotropic qualities. This is bending heavy in the belief that there is a logic to this buried in ritual. Anthrax is a whole other mode. It's political. Maybe if he were trying to simulate pestilence. Alright. We gotta figure out what it's in that sample we took and I'll check the lab. Andrea, I want you to keep the door open and stand between. Don't go direct in the hall. If you need to shut the door, do it. Look for venting in here. If it's a chem lab, there's got to be a system that sucks out dangerous fumes right? I don't know how big the vents would have to be but it might be a way out if you need an unconventional one. Vicky, text me as soon as you know what's in that powder."

He pulled his coat over his face and entered the bio lab, his free hand opening the metal locker and pulling free a mask that he put on his face awkwardly.

There were more animals in there than described. A lot more. And they'd seen better days. "Oh fuck."

"I don't think it could be our anthrax, but...any time you're exposed to, er...unexpected white powder, you can assume it might be anthrax just to be safe. I'm not even sure how much anthrax they keep here, but...there are other ways to get anthrax. If you gave me six months, I could make a brick of weaponized anthrax that size. I'd like to think it's just drugs, but we have to know for sure."

Once Bob left, Vicky got down to work, running a battery of tests and examinations on the material procured from Andrea's apartment. She was blisteringly quick once she had everything set up and the lab to herself, since she knew every lab protocol and piece of equipment like the back of her hand. She even directed Lenny to help her.

First, there was the obvious update: "Good news! Not anthrax."

A few moments later she followed up. "Cocaine, I think. But not pure."

She kept at it, a look of surprised suddenly going over her face in the middle of her work.

Thinking on it, she stepped away and went to Andrea. "Now, I'm not a pharmacologist, but I think this cocktail would kill most people. Cocaine, amphetamines, along with a bunch of other psychoactive elements and some stuff I just plain couldn't figure out. It's obviously some sort of designer drug cocktail, but it'd be more likely to give someone a heart attack or a psychotic episode as anything else. If this guy's on this stuff and still walking around...he's very dangerous."

Vicky looked at the exit to the room, where just a few minutes earlier, Bob had left them here. She couldn't help but think that someone on a dose of this stuff could shatter the door to this lab with their bare hands. After Bob's

OOC: Good lord:

"01:53, Today: Victoria Miller rolled 4 successes using 9d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s.  chemistry!!!"

As Bob left the lab room, leaving his flask on the desk, Andrea set her black, leather bag down and picked up the flask and put it inside. She didn't point it out to Vicky, but she didn't try to hide it either. She wasn't totally sure what her reason was, but followed the impulse. She left her bag in the spot the flask had been and moved to take up position in the doorway as Bob had requested.

When Vicky told her it wasn't Anthrax she was glad for at least one reason they didn't have to climb up in the dusty vent system.  Her answer was "Thank goodness."

She waited and watched the hallway while Vicky finished her work, but nothing was happening in the hall and she couldn't hear or see anything from the bio lab.

Andrea pressed her lips together and opened her mouth with a snap after Vicky had finished telling her what was in the drugs.  "So someone strung out on it might keep coming even after two bullets," she decided. She had always been told to pull the trigger twice in self defense, not just once. "Text your uncle. I can't tell what's happening in there. I'm going to go see. Stay here, please."

Andrea pulled the gun Bob had given her from her waist band and held it with both hands as she advanced down the hall. As she pulled level with the door to the bio lab, she cautiously moved so she could see through the small viewing window into the lab, bringing the gun up a bit as she did so and putting her finger on the safety so she could click it off quickly if she needed to.

There were crisscrossing lines of fishing wire and hanging from them were skins of different animals, mostly domestic. On the table were meticulously placed organs arranged as close as possible to their anatomical positioning when in the body. There were conspicuous beakers, conspicuous because there was nothing in them. Bob presumed they were meant for blood but there wasn't a drop to be found.

On the opposite side of the room was a man of medium height but the muscles beneath his shirt were heavily contrasted to the fabric. He was mumbling to himself, bent over a desk and a harsh sniff sound followed with an enthusiastic whooping. When he turned around and saw Bob, he took a step back in surprise.

"Got damn, brother. You scared the leakies out of me. How'd you find me so quick?"

The demeanor didn't match the carnage and he didn't think this man knew about iodine for cuts, let alone intricate dissection. This was and wasn't their guy.

"Guess I'm wondering what you're doing here, stranger. Want to tell me your name?"

Bob put his hands on the table, uncomfortable at the proximity to the dissected animals organs but preferring to show himself as no harm. There wasn't any danger yet and he wanted to keep it that way. Even without juice, this guy could beat him to a pulp.

"Call me Trapp. Two P's. Mr. Red said you'd come. I just want my payment here, my junk. We don't gotta tussle. Let me outta here."

"Really wish I could but you're on the hook for some gnarly stuff, Trapp. Maybe you could tell me more about this Red. Might help your case. We could see about a rehab."

Trapp laughed, "Red's a bonified monster. He drinks these critters down like they're Kool Aid. I don't judge but...he looks at me sometimes like I'm a critter. I'd rather take my chances with you than cross him."

Bob slowly moved toward a bucket and took the mop out. Trapp shook his head, "Brother you don't know what it's in my veins. Whatever you do is gonna tickle. I promise it won't be the same for you. This labsite is burned. Red can't make me more of this stuff here. It'd be so easy for us to disappear to another county, another jurisdiction. I ain't gonna be so generous when this kicks in. Let me out."

Bob snapped the ropey part of the mop off and now it was just a long stick with an awkward point, He sounded tired, "I can't. But maybe you could keep in mind I'm aiming to subdue and not put a slug in your dome."

Trapp laughed and Bob could practically see him growing more vascular, his neck a tree trunk "You're all heart. Red would love you. But he wants you to cut down on the booze. Says it makes the taste skunky. Of course, now that you're travelling with honey on stilts, he might just change his mind about the main course. Maybe if he's real nice, he'll let me have the one outside the door for a bit of fun before he juice boxes her."

Bob couldn't help but look to the small pane to see Andrea trying to look in while being covert and he felt the smack of an animal skin against his mask. It slid down with a slow smear and Trapp moved as if his legs were springs, lunging at Bob. Bob barely had time to falter backwards and take a martial stance, the handle of the mop held horizontal like a staff.

Trapp was only separated from Bob by a lab table. "Fuck it. Bring it on Chuck Norris. You're gonna wish you'd went with the gun."

Bob shouted at Andrea, not taking his eyes off Trapp, "You get those kids away from here!"

No names. He didn't want this sicko to know anything but the taste of pavement. He was sure Andrea was going to stay and Trapp was contemplating the door now. Which would be better?

"You a good lay, Miller? I'm having a tough time figuring out who to go for first."

The table was in the way at this point for Bob's purposes. But if Trapp went for the door, he'd get one chance to do what he hoped. It's all about waiting now.

Andrea peeked in the window and saw first the animal skins hanging around the room. It took her a moment to realize that the parts on the table were small enough they were animal parts, not human parts. Only once she was able to make sense of the grotesque could she move on to notice a man talking to Bob. Her first impression of him was a average-height, box of a man. He looked like he'd been using steroids for years and she didn't think he'd need drugs to enhance his strength further, but from the look on his face, she had no doubt he was using.

Bob looked in her direction and the man ripped one of the skins off the line, throwing it at Bob and heading for the Detective who thankfully was able to duck away at the last moment.  There was an unintelligible shout in Bob's voice, but the other man did not raise his voice as he responded.

Andrea had no doubt they knew she was out there and there was no point in staying outside the door. From outside a vacuum sealed door she couldn't provide Bob any help, from inside she could.

Andrea pushed down the handle, noting that the lock was broken which explained how all of this had been staged in the bio lab. She shoved the door open with her shoulder as she clicked the safety off the pistol Bob had given her. Once inside she leveled the gun at the large man. He and Bob appeared to be in some kind of standoff.

"Put your hands up and back away from the table. I don't want to hurt you, I just want to know where they women are who disappeared, but I will not hesitate to shoot." She said, loudly enough to get it to carry through the room.  She had never shot a man, but she had settled on the fact that she might need to and come to terms with it. She didn't want to kill him, so she planned to shoot for his lower half if she needed to. The man's thighs were so thick they looked just as wide as a regular guy's torso.

Trapp clapped his hands together as Andrea stormed in and paced a little behind the table. Even owing his amusement to the man being high, Bob thought he was taking too much amusement from the whole situation. And then it occurred to him. The women. He watched Trapp quietly as the other man leaned on the table and leered at Andrea,

"I just want to bury myself with you in a lil hotel with some drinks and candy but shit in one hand, wish in the other. You know which fills up quicker. Actually, I'll settle for this. What's it like having power over half the world, excludin the sodoms and neuters. I got a theory that even the most good lookin man don't know what it feels like to have that kinda power. Women can take it or leave it and that's so twisted. I'll have to settle for taking your shots and shrugging the pain off while I wring your neck or we can stay friends and you let me walk out. I will kill one of you before going into the dirt tonight, if it come to it."

Bob threw the staff at Trapp who swatted it away confused. In that time, Bob had drawn his service revolver with blistering speed and had it trained on Trapp, "You're being real rude, Trapp. I'm starting to think Potter's Field is looking real nice for you. And you know why I'm confident about burying you? Cause you don't know shit about the girls. Want to know why I bring that up? Because I realized you don't know where they are. And that means you're worthless to me. You are wasting our time being junkie trash. You want to walk out of here, it's in bracelets."

Trapp licked his lips, showing nervousness for the first time. It's not as if he's a rhinoceros. Two guns was one too many. He really would have to just shrug off and kill one of them with certain death. Or...

"You hurt my feelings. I'm not gonna be buried like a no namer. I got kin. They'd claim me and bury me proper. I'll start over. Miss, I apologize for my behavior. But Bob, you don't really, truly know I don't know where they are."

Bob took off the mask and took a breath. At this point, with the door open, he figured he'd take his chances with recirculated air. He sidled until he was slightly ahead and to the left of Andrea, obstructing Trapp but not Andrea, his gun still levelled to Trapp's chest. Trapp got angry and knocked over jars. Bob shifted his arms to indicate no more shenanigans but Trapp had a Zippo in his hand. The smell of formaldehyde and antiseptic became menacing. There was an edge to Trapp's voice.

"I wasn't being, what do you call it. Hypodermic is needles. I'm not telling you tall tales. Mr. Red. Is. A. Monster. And your killer is probably one too. I'd rather burn right now. You member the towers? That guy who jumped? Had to choose which way to die. Burning is horrible. I've seen Red do worse cause he ain't human, litrlly. You stepped into Hell tonight."

Bob took it in, "My friend and I leave this room, you lose the leverage of burning us all and you own a lab. Congratulations. You light this place on fire to try and escape, I will wait outside the room and I will shoot you. You have gained nothing and I will have to explain you to a beleaguered police force. You are a headache, Trapp. I don't care about your drug fueled fantasies and I'm sick of you thinking you have any options. Where do we find this Red?"

Trapp sounded frantic, "I wish I'd never met him. I wish he were a fantasy. Red knows something about your guy though. You need Red and I want to leave with what I came for. Just let me go!"

He swept the table and all the meticulous organs went splatter on the soaked ground. Bob tossed handcuffs on the table.

"Guess we're going to be bosom buddies for a little while then cause unless Red has the girls, you haven't really helped me. We're gonna take a drive until you've metabolized this drug and then you go cold. This little drive along costs you information about the scene. I want what it was like before you staged it. I want you to set a meet with Red. You do that and that leads somewhere, maybe you get a deal with the DA."

Trapp's bug eyes were red, and his mouth was covered in spittle. The drug didn't seem to be effective at the moment and it was making him erratic. His glib nature eroded to one of suppurating need and he felt like the name he'd adapted. Trapped. He picked up the handcuffs and spun them on his finger.

"You know what? I think Red thought you'd kill me or kill myself somehow tonight. Like I'm any kind of threat. Or maybe I'm your new clue. But you're right. I don't know anything. You talk about me getting clean like it's just taking a shower. Why don't you stop drinking then cold turkey."

Bob didn't even bother to respond. He just waited for Trapp to cuff himself and he did, followed by slumping onto a stool.

Trapp spoke dully, "Red had a workstation. He was given all those items, the tongues. I don't know when that happened. I went to the theater afterwards and hung everything up. I was high. I wrote the message, thought it was funny. Red said to keep writing them. He was in your apartment, law lady. Said he wanted to catch your smell. Says you can see two worlds with your eyes. Is that true?"

Trapp stood up and walked to Bob, showed his cuffed hands. Bob asked if he was going to get pricked or anything if he did a search. Trapp said he wouldn't. Trapp had eight dollars, a cell phone, a train pass and the bricks he'd come for of the drugs. No ID. No wallet. The Zippo was there though. Bob bagged everything up with a collection bag and shoved Trapp to the door.

"Sit against the wall, head between your knees while I confer with colleagues about our next course of action. We'll get you a doughnut and some coffee, try to help your transition off this drug. You're gonna be held off site. I'll make sure of that. I want no chances of anything happening to you."

The words didn't register to Trapp beyond complying. Bob knelt down and cuffed Trapp by the ankles while assessing the scene.

He turned to Andrea, "I want to chew you out for not staying with my niece but you gave us a bloodless surrender. And you saved me more than likely from a savage beating so there's that too. Thank you. Next time though, you have to choose? Choose Vicky."

Andrea felt her stomach clench in disgust and a little fear as Trapp threatened her sexually, but it only served to strengthen her resolve on shooting him if he made a move toward her. At least the threats made her self defense claim solid. But Miller stepped up and Andrea could start to see the strength that had made him such a good Detective when he was younger.  He seemed to have an answer to everything Trapp said and he was able to conclude things that Andrea would have had no idea about. How had he known Trapp knew nothing about the missing women?

She knew when to keep quiet and she did so, letting then men go back and forth, trying to absorb everything that was said. Trapp really seemed to be hallucinating, what with his comments about this Red-person not being human. Red certainly sounded like a real psychotic. Wanted to catch her scent? That was something men with tendencies to stalk were depicted as having. And stalkers were known to be obsessive and have a high potential for violence. But apparently he was only the middle man?

Andrea only relaxed once Trapp was in handcuffs. Only then did she put the safety back on Miller's gun and tuck it back on her waistband.

She didn't answer Trapp's question about seeing two worlds. She didn't know what he meant and set it up to his delusions from drugs. She was used to getting lots of strange questions and teasing about her eyes. It happened growing up, but still now she'd get comments- usually from women who were acting like jealous hens or men who felt as though she had rejected them in some way. She was used to not responding, letting the comments roll off her back.

When Miller came to her she was happy to step further toward the door, get away from the smells and rest her eyes on the more pleasant view of his face, even if her was angry with her.

"I'm sure Vicky is fine, unless Lenny decided to get handsy. Even then, I'm sure she'd knee him between the legs and leave him whimpering on the floor.  She found the drug is Cocaine laced with a lot of things that make it pretty deadly to the average person and would cause that in others." She gestured in Trapp's direction. "So now we take him and go after this Mr. Red? Are we going to report all this to someone?" She gestured toward the biolab. She knew reporting it would lead to waiting for other police, doing official reports, and taking time, which she didn't want to do, but she didn't see how they could just walk away.  Could they leave it until someone found the labs in the morning and called 911?  She glanced at the door, the only thing she had touched with her fingers and made a note to wipe any parts that would have prints on them.

Bob shook his head, "We're not going to report it. Lenny is going to report back having heard strange sounds outside the biolab to campus security. Campus security will either promptly report it to the district or they will get real territorial and try to hold onto the scene. There's always one wannabe that is trying to get on the force. We luck out with him being our campus guy and that'll buy us some precious time. Time to search the Price apartment and set up this meet. I want more details from Trapp and he's gonna talk while we search, multitask. Thing that is hinky to me off the top--who is this drug for? It's not super unusual to have hallucinations but why make a Coke derivative with hallucinations in the mix when there's PCP. If we'd been dealing with that, there would be a very real possibility you would have seen me without a face. He'd have ripped it off. This guy Red wants controllable violence maybe?

At the scene, I couldn't figure out how all the evidence fit inside the cats. I didn't know to look for it but their stomachs looked seamless. Our Red is patient to sew them back up like that but suffers his own weird shit. He's been drinking the blood of these animals. I don't like that he's met Yorkshire either. Red would have shown up earlier on our radar if he'd been exsanguinating people. He's probably helping Yorkshire out of an eagerness to work his way to people. Yorkshire should be very protective though of his girls so that clock shouldn't change. We just have to get Red off the street first before they get too chummy or clash values."

Trapp turned on his side, "I need air. It's too hot in here. Gonna throw up."

Bob worked at the cuffs on his ankles and groaned as he hauled Trapp up.

"You got the story down, right? Feed it to Lenny. I'll deal with this."

The gun was pressed to the base of Trapp's spine. They walked wordlessly but Trapp was groaning at times until they reached an exit and Trapp took a deep breath.

"Don't even try to run. That was your first thought. Up against the wall, sit."

Trapp slid down seated. "Heart beating too fast. Something...this batch."

Bob clenched his fist. Why would Red think Bob would kill you, Trapp. He wouldn't. He just gave you a dirty high. He hit Trapp with the butt of the gun. Trapp vomited from the pain.

"The fu..the fuck you do that for?"

"Your heart is like a sewage plant. I need that toxicity out somehow. Blood goes out. No epinephrine in the event it stopped. Vomiting was a stroke of luck. It's what I call Informal Medicine."

Trapp was sweating hard. "Coulda warned me. Nose is broke."

"Why did he take the earring?"

Trapp was exasperated, "What earring, man? You shittin a shitter? You like riddles?"

"Red took a cat's eye earring from the apartment and left a brick of your favorite drug at my friend's place. He basically set you up tonight. What made you think you weren't expendable?"

"Yeah, just rub in that I'm nothin. Look, Red got it weird strong for the blue/brown eyes. He said he needed help getting close to her. I wasn't thinking about anything but his good good. That first time was God sent. I would have destroyed you if he hadn't stabbed me in the back."

"You were the clue. And the messenger. I guess setting a meet won't be so hard."

"Daylight hitting soon. You have to wait a night. Never seen him in the daytime."

"You really believe he isn't human. I thought you'd be smart enough to know one thing, Trapp. Only monsters are us."

"You're very wrong, Detective Miller."

Bob leveled the gun in the direction of the voice.

"Color me impressed. You might have shot me."

The voice was like silk and titanium at the same time and it had impossibly moved further right in the copse of trees.

"You shy, Mr. Red? This is your party. Come out and let's have a talk."

"I'm not that interested in you, Miller. I want Ms. Juneau. Do give her this message. It's why I've inconvenienced myself in coming out here. Her sister is intact. You have a tongue that's been injected with some of her blood but that's your Yorkshire killer trying to maintain "integrity." We came to an arrangement. To a point. And before you ask, no I don't know where the girls are. Not anymore. And I regrettably could not persuade the individual to give the younger Juneau to me for safe keeping. Adamant, your Yorkshire."

Bob looked and looked but he couldn't see Red. "You went to great lengths to preserve Yorkshire's sex. And or gender. People use em interchangeably now. It's confusing for an old man. Yorkshire have that issue too?"

"I'm impressed you noticed. Not enough to give the game away though. Professional courtesy. Tell Andrea for me that I would appreciate if she wore that backless champagne dress from the Judiciary Review last summer. It's most becoming. While you're at it, bring your darling niece as well. I'd like her opinion on my creation, a different sort of peer to peer."

"Yeah, that's not happening. Vicky isn't coming anywhere near you."

Bob didn't see him come from the trees. That's because he'd somehow positioned himself above Bob, standing on the roof of the building. He seemed to appear like a mist behind Bob and pressed him with great force against the wall. It took one shake to relieve Bob of the gun. Red whispered in Bob's ear, "You seem to think you're in a position to set terms. I'm disabusing you of that notion now. There are more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in your philosophies. I believe that's how it goes. I am the defiance of your prosaic grim world, Miller. And I am a prosaic terror in a world full of them. Still, we play the parts we are given. Which is why I'm going to let you live. You thought if you could just catch or kill Yorkshire that you would set the world right. Or maybe just 'I got mine.' By all means, try. I believe Yorkshire will prevail. Your haphazard, by the nails detecting pales to that monstrosity. But maybe you'll prove me wrong. Here, a gift of repentance."

Red let go of the back of Bob's neck and Bob slumped to the ground in a daze. In one hand was his gun and in the other, he could barely recognize the earring.

"Pairs should be reunited. I'd like Ms. Juneau to wear the newly reunited earrings. Mr. Miller, this is a courtesy. I rather hope you save the sister. But I am a fan of Yorkshire. It's all very exciting. Now, I should attend to Trapp before I go."

Trapp was petrified. He hadn't moved the entire time. He managed to find his voice, "I did what you wanted. And I didn't say a word about nothin. Don't kill me."

Red was walking with deliberate slowness. He felt something on his ankle. It was Bob.

"Really...for him? Fine. I'm too generous for my own good. I just thought better he be dead than escaped. I'm fairly certain you will pass out. Don't blame me if he runs. Goodnight."

Bob didn't see Red leave but Trapp saw him vanish and he was just gumming the air, uncomprehending, "H--how? Why?"

Bob dragged himself up the wall and unsteadily kept the gun on Trapp, "You're under arrest. In my custody. Do you understand your rights?"

Trapp nodded dumbly. Bob nodded and sat on the stair. He sent a group text to Andrea and Vicky, "We're outside."

Bob looked up at the sky. Hanging with prescience was a blood moon. What did that say about tomorrow?

Andrea nodded in agreement with Miller and stepped over to wipe her prints from the Bio lab door before she left. "I know I don't have to say it, but be careful with him. He's unpredictable." Andrea told Miller about Trapp. "We'll be out in a second."

Andrea went back to the chem lab to find Vicky.  "Hey, The Detective's ok." she said as she walked to the table to pull the straps of her bag over her shoulder. She waved Vicky over and lowered her voice for Vicky's ears only.

"Bob wants Lenny to spin a story of hearing weird noises and call campus security. No mention of us being here. Do you think you can convince him to do that? I have eighty dollars on me, not sure if you need a bribe or if that'd be a useful amount."

She let Vicky do her best working her contacts and only stepped in if the woman needed help. Trapp going off about her having power over men had made her feel self conscious about pressing it right now.  Instead she took the time to wipe the table, door and any other surfaces she and Bob had touched, using a disposable cleaning wipe she found on a side table.

When they were done in there she led Vicky out the door, past the bio lab.  "I would suggest NOT looking. The animal skins are disgusting." she told Vicky.  "I found your uncle in a standoff with a very weird man, probably a steroid user, definitely a drug user. He didn't know anything about the women, but the cats are the doing of some guy he just called Mr. Red.  Miller got him in handcuffs and they went outside to wait for us. It was actually very impressive.  No blows were exchanged."

Her phone chimed and she checked it.  "I have the keys. I guess they are waiting for us."

She came to the exit door and took another wipe out of her bag to wipe that handle as well as they went out the door.  That's when she saw Miller sitting on the stair, something about the slope of his shoulders  indicated he wasn't just resting while he waited.

The first thing Bob noticed since it was at eye level was the outline of a portion of his flask pressed against the interior of Andrea's purse. He wanted it but realized it would just come straight back up. He pushed himself up and made way for them to come down, "My favorite ladies. So, Lester good with the plan?"

He coughed into his hand and saw it was bloody sputum. He clenched his hand before wiping it inside his coat pocket. There was a beat before Trapp became hysterical,

"Fuck your Gary Cooper act, Miller. You're not gonna tell them. I will. Red was here and it was bad. He--"

Bob gave Trapp a withering look and the cuffed man angrily went quiet. Bob unfolded a handkerchief and offered up the earring to Andrea, his tone trying to be inscrutable but there was a hint of fear, "You have an admirer, Andrea. And I am forced to say he did what I believed was impossible. Your sister is unharmed. One of those tongues is going to come up Jane Doe or maybe ding as your sister but...Red has insisted she is well. And I believe him. He wants you to---"

His face went sour and Trapp finished with irritation.

"Red wants to meet you girls tomorrow. Formal wear for you, law girl. Champagne dress, backless. Those earrings. Suppose the rest is up to you. Just turn it on and maybe we'll all get through this. Be agreeable."

Bob went to Trapp in a rage and smacked him across the face. Trapp opened his mouth, which was a mistake. The revolver in Bob's hand now resided halfway in Trapp, who was making panicked noises. Bob was panting. He spit on Trapp. It was more blood.

"Shut your filthy mouth. I swear, give me the reason I want, Trapp."

Trapp looked to the women pleading.

"I have a secret, Trapp. Ready? I'm not a nice man. I enjoy when I have the badge and hurt people like you. It's my reward for protecting people like them. So I mean it. Give me a reason."

He took the gun out of Trapp's mouth and Trapp quivered, but not because of Bob. "He's going to kill us all. And you know now. He ain't human, Miller. Why'd you stop him from killing me if you're just gonna let him do it tomorrow?"

Bob sneered, "He has medical training and martial training. I wouldn't be surprised if he served. He got the drop on me. He didn't vanish in a cloud of bats. He didn't breathe fire. I don't want to hear any more!"

Bob's entire body was trembling with useless adrenaline. He put the gun away in his holster and wobbled to the wall. He couldn't understand. But he did. This was fear.

Hearing the news that Bob was OK brought an intense amount of relief to Vicky's demeanor. Her entire body visibly relaxed for just a moment.

She looked over at Lenny, who in the meantime had been balancing a pencil and other things on his nose, chin, and forehead. There was a cold mug of coffee. He was listening, though, and when Andrea mentioned the plan he put his thumb up. Vicky turned back and explained: "It's all covered by the one favor. I owe him a drink and probably some food. It's the local economy, you might say." She shrugged. "It's basically sacrosanct."

When Andrea described the guy, she got a bit more edgy. "Yeah, I sure hope he isn't on this cocktail. Someone on this stuff wouldn't think anything of their own life--a full magazine of rounds wouldn't stop them unless it killed them, cold, on the spot. Have you ever seen someone try to take down a guy on PCP? This is a whole lot worse." She thought that, if this guy had any connection to the drugs, he was probably between fixes at the moment--or else either him or Bob would be dead by now.

On their way out, Vicky spotted the emergency fire ax close to the other lab. <Coral>"I've seen a few animal carcasses, by the way--I'm in the sciences, after all."

Vicky found herself on edge again when they met with Bob (and, unfortunately, Trapp). She didn't like the look of this guy, and she didn't precisely like seeing this side of Bob, either.

When Vicky mentioned PCP Andrea looked back over her shoulder.  "I haven't witnessed that.  If that's what it's like then Trapp, the man from the lab, must not be high at the moment.  Well, he's on something, but not that.  Though he did boast that he could take all the bullets in my gun and still strangle me." She shivered at the thought of the threat.  "I am very glad that your Uncle was there to handle the negotiation and surrender."

Andrea walked down the stairs at the exit and answered Bob about Lenny.  "Yes.  He will make the call in a little while.  Vicky has some good friends in the science lab."  She watched Bob move with concern, he looked more tired than ever, and it didn't appear to just be the late hour.  She took a breath to say something when Trapp started up with is rant.  Andrea was literally shocked into silence as the two men vied to tell the story of what had happened and argued and fought about what was going to happen and what danger they might be in.

It was all over in a flash and Andrea was left holding her earring and staring between Miller and Trapp, both upset and trembling.  Both men left quaking by a man named Mr. Red.

Andrea slipped the earring in her bag as she walked quietly over to Miller.  He felt one warm hand on the small of his back and saw the other offering him a bottle as he leaned, facing the wall.  For a moment he thought it might be alcohol, but then saw more clearly that it was a designer re-usable water bottle with a feminine blue design.  "Did he hurt you?  Your neck?" Andrea reached up and gently tugged aside the collar of his jacket to show the vivid red marks there which were quickly turning into bruises.  She frowned, angry.  "This was Mr. Red?  I'm sorry, since apparently he is after me." She put the water bottle in Bob's hand, if he didn't take it himself.  "Sip it."

Andrea turned and surveyed the little group of people there, Trapp, handcuffed and kneeling, blood on his face from the hit and the spit; Miller, blood on his lips somehow seething and scared at the same time; Vicky, a young woman capable yet caught in unexpected crosshairs and left completely on edge by two violent men.  "Okay.  So the terrorist comes on the scene and is making demands.  But Mr. Red is not the guy, or woman, or group who has the girls and has my sister, right?  So we table him until tomorrow night when I decide if I am going to go meet him and if I am going to cater to his demands."  Andrea's disgusted look was the closest thing Bob had ever seen to contempt on her face.  "In the meantime, we still have Eileen's home to search for clues and before that we all need coffee and electrolytes and then we all need rest."  She looked at Trapp.

"Are we bringing Trapp with us, Detective? If so, I might have to require a seat protector and a bucket, just in case.  And you should probably sit with him in back to make sure he doesn't try anything."

He startled for a moment and then his body relaxed as he registered who it was behind him and took the water gratefully, waving his hand dismissively at Andrea's apology, "This is nothing. He just...it's like I said. He caught me unaware. I'll be fine. He asked for you but I think he played up being prurient to make me angry. It may have worked better than I thought."

The water was cooling and her hand was relaxing. He started to feel self conscious and the adrenaline was steering uncomfortably elsewhere. It had been too long since he'd felt tenderness aside from maintaining a relationship when he was UC years ago. He offered Andrea a tight smile before peeling away from the wall and then with more reluctance than he cared to admit, he stepped away from Andrea and started to pace, drinking water with reflections flitting in his mind. He looked to Vicky and walked over, kneeling down and gently taking one of her hands between his, "I am...I am so sorry you saw me like that."

Trapp audibly chuffed at the apology to Vicky, "Man puts a gun in my mouth for talking some damn sense, smacks me in the nose with the butt of same gun and offers not one word. Ah got feelings too, Miller."

Bob was feeling the anger growing. Trapp was acting familiar in a way that pissed him off considering Trapp had just told Andrea to proposition herself to Red. He let go of Vicky's hand and turned to Trapp, staring at him as he answered Andrea.

"Yeah we're taking him with us. He owes me and I intend to collect. Every scrap of information in his head, every dealing he's had with Red and how they operated--you are not meeting him alone or unprepared, Andrea. He wanted Vicky there too to antagonize me. It worked. I'll be better. But our routines are shot for all intents and purposes until Red is dealt with."

He had Trapp lean forward, who resisted at first until he realized he was being administered water.

"Thanks. I'm sorry, lawyer lady. Don't suppose you suffer from anything that gets you Xanax or somethin. As wonderful as bleeding from my nose worked to stop a heart attack, as in not at all to my liking, I could do with it. Tylenol PM'll do in a pinch I guess but only cause of lights out. And considerin I am looking at death's door, I don't think acetaminophen and diphenhydramine are gonna cut it."

Bob stopped giving him water and gave the bottle back to Andrea, "There's a greasy spoon near here. Short stack and coffee black for 5 bucks. Carbs should slow us down some and coffee for equilibrium. Then yeah, Eileen's place."

Victoria was losing track of things--more was going on than she could understand. So she asked a question when Bob came to apologize to her. "Just who the hell is Red, anyways? What's his interest in this case?"

As soon as Trapp started to speak, though? She shot back at him: "How about you shut the hell up, you creep?" She looked almost like she was about to hit him in the mouth for a second before turning back to Bob, brows still furrowed a bit. "It's alright. I'm just...not used to it."

"Yeah, I know the place. It's good--a lot of the students head there for greasy late-night food during exams. If the coffee's just gone on, it'll be the ideal time to show up. Let's hurry up with it so we can get to Eileen's place."

Andrea knew that Miller had no intention of sending her to meet with Mr. Red alone and she hadn't been planning on it either. Nor did she intend to dress as requested. In her mind, to do that would give Red the upper hand. It would communicate "I am yours to instruct and I will cater to your demands." She wouldn't do that. Years of practice had taught her the messages one could send with clothing and the strength she could give herself by dressing correctly. She would use that to her every advantage and she would not jump into his trap so eagerly. But she didn't need to get into that right now.

She accepted the water bottle back after Bob had used it to give to Trapp with a look of distaste. As subtly as possible she used another alcohol wipe to cleanse the drinking rim before replacing it in her bag and shaking her head at Tripp.  "Extra strength Tylenol is all I carry." she told him. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken pain killers herself, but the DA occasionally got bad headaches and what kind of assistant would she be if she wasn't prepared for that?

With Vicky's assistance to get a garbage bag and a bucket from the science building Andrea prepared a spot for Tripp in her car. She handed Miller a small packet of facial cleansing wipes before getting in the car. "Not much you can do about his shirt, buy we will draw less attention if you get the blood off of both of your faces." she said in a soft voice. "Wouldn't want to ruin the effect of those blue eyes on the diner waitress." she winked at him and slid into the driver's seat, placing the borrowed gun inside the center console where it wouldn't dig into her back as she drove.

Andrea was quiet on the way to the diner, taking Vicky's directions there. She was concentrating on driving and staying awake. She was used to waking at this hour, but after 6 hours of sleep, not pulling an all-nighter. At the diner she slid into a booth, making sure Miller and Tripp were on one side, she and Vicky the other. She ordered an egg white omelette, with spinach and mushroom, an English muffin and black coffee.  Apparently the lack of sleep did not provide an excuse for splurging on pancakes with lots of syrup in Andrea's book.

Bob shook his head to Vicky, accompanying his answer, "He's a violent passerby. I think they found each other, Yorkshire and Red, muddying the waters. Red seems as though he's responsible for the animals. The elaborate presentation brought us here though. That was probably just his version of showmanship."

He was concerned for the snap in Vicky's tone, not that Trapp didn't deserve that but for the untold story of how much this night is in her skin. Maybe Jesse did right keeping them apart.

Trapp winced but said nothing as Bob wiped at the blood already threatening to dry on Trapp's face with alcohol wipes. After he administered that, he cleaned at his own hands and face. Andrea had left him a little wordless and a flush at the thought of flirting. The last time he'd flirted as Bob Miller and not a UC as necessary? The towers were still standing. Lot of oil needed to make those gears turn again and make him a candidate for the mutual song and dance of courting. He took a look in the car mirror ostensibly checking for blood but he paid attention to his own eyes. They were sharper than usual, the color less faded in the blue. It was as if the case we're bringing him to life.

Bob knew he would run off what he ate so he went at a stack and a half of pancakes with gusto along with some crispy bacon and a sunny side egg, betraying the unsaid black coffee rule of the diner with some cream and sugar. He traced the air with his fork, his words a little muffled before he swallowed a bite,

"So, we have two cases here and the point of divergence is tonight. They were linked when Red made contact with Yorkshire and volunteered to shepherd the evidence into his own crime. They split when Red went mask off and asked us to come see him, saying he wasn't Yorkshire. Why believe that? Both of them share a desire for attribution. In Red's case, he couldn't help but make it known we've mostly been dancing to his tune. He needs Andrea for something and I think it's safe to say, despite the clothing appeal, it's more about who she knows. So why does Red need the DA. Give me something and you'll get more than take out pie and coffee for dinner, Trapp.

Trapp was encumbered with Miller's coat covering his lap like a big folded blanket. He was in a sour mood.

"You think I know what that psycho wants? Look, I'mma set this straight. I had a good job once. Anyone wanna guess? Animal Control. That's how Red and I met. It was a chance meeting or so I thought. I "caught" him trying to steal from a kennel. But he knew I was born on the crooked mile. Money and drugs. I had tunnel vision, Miller. I thought his peculiar diet was like a pregnant lady's or somethin. He just had cravings or maybe his body wanted more iron, that uhh, that anemia thing."

This excited mounting panic in Trapp, "But we all know it's worse than that. He ain't hu---"

Bob stuffed a piece of bacon in Trapp's mouth and shook his head, "Well now you know you were played. I want facts, Trapp. I want motive. I want answers."

Trapp chewed on his gag, "Night doesn't care what you want, Miller. That's why it's night. It's dark and hides things. The night don't care."

Andrea set down her fork and pushed her empty plate away.  She refilled her coffee cup with the carafe the waitress had brought after being asked for the third refill and then wrapped her hands around the cup.  Her slender fingers twined with each other around the cream ceramic and the light pink polish on her manicured nails caught the light of harsh fluorescents hanging from the diner ceiling.

"You really think he's after the DA?"  she shrugged.  "I don't know what he thinks he can get out of me.  I am only her personal assistant.  Wouldn't he be better off trying to go after one of the ADAs if that is his reason?"

Bob stuffed the Bacon in Trapp's mouth, effectively cutting off his rant, but Andrea was left with a question.  "So, this Mr. Red, he drinks the blood of the animals that he is killing?  Why the skinning and organs and the elaborate scenes?  Why did he tell you to do all that?" she looked at Bob.  "And what exactly did he say to you about my sister?  If he's not Yorkshire, how does he know that she is ok?  What did he say about her tongue?"

Trapp wasn't occupied with food or anything. He just stared and blinked for a moment before registering Andrea's questions. "He wanted attention like Miller said. Nobody cares about random dead animals. They go missing more than you think. Hell, my supervisor called the cops about it before I met Red. Calls were ignored. And the scenes weren't just for us. Things changed when he met Yorkshire. It was like Red wanted to be this fuckin monster afterwards. 'Fore that, he almost seemed sick like unwell."

Bob looked at his plate and picked up a piece of bacon contemplatively, "Red met Yorkshire and there was an understanding. It's my inference because you work for the DA that Red asked for clemency for your sister. Yorkshire picked up another woman and we'll likely never know who the stand in is because of how Red suggested he throw us off. The underworld has a way of connecting unsavory characters because they hide in the same types of places. He wouldn't do that without wanting something from you in return and I doubt his sexual intimations are the real motivation. If I wanted the DA for something, I would tap you first too Andrea. You have her schedule at her fingertips and a very subtle direct line. You don't take advantage of it, which is why you're valued in the office amongst other things. When you become a lawyer, I know you'll be good. If you have political aspirations, the DA would back you. I don't know why Red knows you're the person to touch on though. An ADA would, on the face of it, seem more of a useful target. This isn't any old hard lean. Red needs something big. He seems to only work alone though, given that Trapp has been his go to person and I think even Trapp would agree there are more useful people than ones with addictions if he had a big plan in mind that needs retained muscle."

Bob let the stiff bacon drop back onto the plate, "What Red gave us by coming out tonight takes away from what we thought we knew about Yorkshire. Except...the women were moved. How can they be moved without drawing attention..."

There was fatigue there as the last of the adrenaline was wearing off and it brought Bob to a polar extreme where his thoughts were coming slower. Trapp didn't even take offense at Bob's remark.

"I was planning to leave, get some land in the middle part of the country, try to tend to some animals. You always need money though and it's always too late. I don't want to die."

Andrea sipped from her coffee mug and slumped just a little in her chair.  She looked at the small chain watch on her wrist, seeming to note the time

"So we are no closer to finding Yorkshire than we were when we were at the theater.  The stuff in my apartment was all Mr. Red.  Maybe he could get us a little closer, but we don't even know exactly where and when we are supposed to meet him, do we?  We need to go to Elaine's home and see if there is any clue there.  You said that she was catatonic, Detective?  So when, if, she was taken it was likely from whatever home she was in.  Does she have twenty-four hour caretakers or family or is she in a care facility?  If we don't find anything there will you call or go in and find out if there was anything at the other homes?"  She covered her mouth for a suppressed yawn.

"I will need to call my office soon and take a personal day. And I should call my parents, they may already be awake." Andrea glanced toward the window where the night was showing signs of giving way to dawn.

As a pretty girl, growing up in troubled times, Andrea had had cause to think about kidnapping, being moved or taken places against her will, the necessity not to approach strangers or take candy or gifts from strange men in vans.  It didn't seem like it would be that difficult to move 7 women who had already been captured.  After all, trafficking was a very real crime and those women and girls were often moved surreptitiously.  The traffickers apparently didn't find it that hard or it wouldn't be so prevalent and easy to get away with. "As to moving six or seven women, it wouldn't be too hard in a van, especially if they are unconscious or drugged and you have a garage on either end."  she didn't mention the ease with which one could probably move the same number of corpses all piled up.  "Unless you were thinking it would be difficult for a different reason?"

Vicky didn't say too much at the diner--she ordered food, a real meal, and chowed down. Being a student in sciences, she was more used to jumping from something gross or even grizzly than your average bear. As a result, jumping straight over to food from all the things they'd just been subjected to was hardly a bigger stretch than normal.

She hated Trapp, however, and kept giving him stink-eye as she ate.

She commented eventually: "So, maybe this Red guy isn't our guy. But he still wants to be involved. He wants to be a part of the case. And he's the type of guy who...drinks raw cat blood, or whatever." She scratched her chin for a second, dabbed some grease at the corner of her mouth. "That all sounds pretty dangerous anyways, right? So I don't think we can ignore him, either. If he wants to be in the middle of things, he might already be related to the case."

There wasn't anywhere for Trapp to go so he just took the baleful glare in silence. He got the impression any response to the young woman would drag Bob out of his quiet mood and rile him up.

"I imagine he will contact Trapp's phone with the meet details tomorrow night. The where will be somewhere he controls. Where do you hole up, Trapp? Where will he take us?"

Trapp shifted uncomfortably, "It was a warehouse with a freezer. I don't know where exactly but the air smelled salty so I imagine by the docks. He'd put a mask over my head and I know he doubled back to certain places from the way light came through the fibers. I don't know what else to tell you. I wasn't taking notes when I went in the warehouse few times I did."

Bob wanted to push further but he weighed it against making a scene and decided to just nod to Trapp.

"Eileen. She has twenty four hour care in her own home. The family maintains the home. They send me a card every year, asking for more information in the nicest way possible. They want closure. I just blanked on the transportation Yorkshire would use to move them. Whether it's difficult or not. But he has at least two locations under his control. Red can tell us about one if he wanted."

It was a little funny for Bob seeing his niece eat but it didn't reflect in his voice, "Red made contact with Yorkshire. Once upon a time, I would have been able to wrangle precincts to chase whoever might have breathed the same air. Not the same now. That contact alone makes Red valuable and yeah, that guy's own proclivities makes him someone who probably should be picked up."

Bob tried to wrangle what they had to do in brief, "So, Eileen should tell us about Yorkshire for sure if I'm right with something. That he's going to close the first circle of murders or attempt it soon. Red wants something from Andrea. We should have safe passage but given how many warehouses there are by the dock, can we find him before the meet is called and is it worth it to try? I'm not a big fan of giving Red the control he has currently but there's no choice short of trying to meet him on our terms."

Andrea nodded. "Agreed, when were done here we should go look into Eileen's residence and see what's there." As she listened to Bob really about trying to find Red her mouth turned down at the sides. When he was done she shook her head. "Trying to search all the warehouses and other possible buildings by the ocean is useless if we don't have any way to narrow it down. That activity could take weeks with many more people than we have, and I'm guessing you won't want to split up to do it. I think we would be better off getting a few hours of rest and continuing to follow up and clues we have on Yorkshire."

Andrea took a book-wallet from her bag and put money on the table to cover her portion of the bill and a generous tip.  "I'll be back."  She got up to go to the restroom and when she came back out she had freshened up, redone her hair and makeup and did not look like she's been awake for over 24 hours.

Andrea caught Bob's eye and motioned that she'd be a little longer and used an empty booth to spread out a planner and take pictures. She was quick typing something up on her phonw then re-reading, editing and sending. Then she put it all away, dialed a number and lifted her phone to her ear. Andrea turned to the window to look out as she waited. The soft light of dawn illuminated her features and caught the glint of gold at her throat.

"Good morning, Mom.  Yes, it's unusual to call this early. I figured you'd be up to make breakfast for the boys. No, I'm ok. It's... It's Kat, she's missing. Since yesterday night. Yes, the police are looking, they have their best detectives on it." Andrea paused as she listened to her mom and she was speaking quietly, but her side of the conversation could be just heard if one was paying attention. "No! I mean, you should stay at home. There's nothing you can do right now and I don't have a place for you to stay, I'm not even at home, just in case. No, I'm fine. It's just a precaution. I'm staying with a detective. He's a he, mom. He's taking my safety very seriously. Attractive?" Andrea glanced over at the table where the others were sitting and then looked back out the window. "Yes, sure, but I haven't really been thinking about that. It's really not the first thing on my mind. Yes, you're right, it rarely is. Yes, I know you worry about me. Right now I am more worried about Kat. I will let you know as soon as I find out anything more. Yes, she's a strong girl, I am sure we'll find her and it'll be ok. I love you. I'll call you soon."

Andrea stowed everything away in her bag again and came back to the table. "I emailed HR and my boss that I am not going to be in today. Are we ready to go?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:49, Sun 21 Nov 2021.

Vicky left a pretty damn good tip--she knew some of the people who took on shifts here, she wasn't about to go around giving bad tips here.

She was still nursing some coffee as they were finishing up their chat.

"I guess you're probably going to want to meet Red without us, then?" She thought on that for a good second. "If you're seeing this guy alone, just be careful. It doesn't do any good if you end up hurt or put yourself into some kind of bad situation."

Later on, as Andrea came back to the table, she thought about making arrangements. She decided not to.

Bob took a sip of coffee and shook his head, "I only know to look for Yorkshire for sure right now. Red has thrown this curveball that can't be reckoned with until they're disentangled from one another. Red has to have less leverage in order to make it actionable to not go by his demands. I don't want either of you there but there may not be a choice."

The words were increasingly bitter in his mouth and he looked to Vicky with a peculiar mix of concern and a hint of desperation, "He wanted you there. I told him like hell and that precipitated his---contrariness. He wants your opinion on the drug or that's the pretense. As an uncle, I don't want you there. As a cop, I wouldn't have you there. As a strained detective, I'm in great conflict of those who are still out there and their safety. If you want to go back to school, I'm in full support. If you come with us, I'll do everything I can to keep the focus off you. I don't have a clear answer."

He fished out something proportional to Vicky's tip and laid it on the table, turning his attention to Andrea. "Yes, we should head to the Price residence and hope for something we can follow independent of Red. I'd like to be able to ignore his first 'invitation' and rattle his cage a little."

"Ok. Let's go." Andrea did one last check that the tab was fully covered, smiled at the evidence that they were all good tippers and headed out the front of the diner to her car. She opened the trunk and dug around for a black leather jacket which she slipped on before skipping into the driver's seat and waiting for the others to get in.

"You're the navigator, Detective." She told Bob once he'd settled Tripp and gotten in behind her.  She turned her eyes to him in the rear view mirror, waiting for the first set of directions.

Andrea was a competent enough driver and she stayed calm despite the annoyances of beginning rush hour traffic.

 you find various things youve found over the night coalese into you being ready to look again at the scene where the corpses were found.

You know now beyond doubt something drank the life out of them.

Bob was kneeling and looking at where the corpses had been. When the coroner had reported that the bodies had been forcibly drained based on the tension in the musculature and not just drained, he was thrown for a loop. It was already strange that there had been scant blood to be found. He wanted to chalk it up to a rabid animal but Animal Control, insofar as they have expertise, said there was no kind of animal they knew that would leave the bodies.

He was forced to the conclusion that this was a "someone" doing these things. None of the pet owners had reported any kind of animus toward their animals at any point or noticed anyone suspicious following them. The only thing in common was the attacks were only occurring at night.

News reports were already cautioning people to keep their pets in their homes and to try to get to their homes as early as possible. He didn't want to wait for the attacks to escalate to people. His sergeant wasn't compelled to offer much in the way of assistance.

He might as well have thrown chicken bones on the ground and tried to augur them for insight. The frustration was taken out on a bottle in his coat. As he gathered the coat about him to keep more chill at bay, he heard the clicking of heels on the pavement.

There was a familiar cadence to them but he was ambivalent about turning to face her. If it was her, would she demand answers? If she did, what could he say? He was standing there holding the short straw of giving a damn about cats and dogs, about something that bumps in the night. He hastily put away the flask and looked intently on, pretending he was beyond notice.

The sound of the heels stopped a respectful distance from the Detective and Andrea shifted her bag higher on her shoulder.

"Well, Detective, see anything new in the light of day?" The dark of night was indeed lightening to a rosey hue on the horizon, the beauty of which was, of course, blocked out by the grimy walls rising from an even grimier street.  The deep shadowing of the corners however was becoming a dark grey and details continued to coalesce out of the inky black that may have smothered them earlier.

Andrea looked fragile somehow, the bones if her face pushing against her skin as though her skin was tissue and she might tear. But the look in her eyes was hard and strong providing a counter point to her exterior.

Bob grit his teeth. This wasn't an unreasonable question. He squinted his eyes and realized there was more to the area than previously thought. New in the light of day, indeed. He pulled out a penlight and it dispelled that much more of the darkness clinging to the alley corner. It was very easy for forensics to have missed this discarded item in the bedlam of press crowding in and ascribing wild theories to the perpetrator, now perhaps not so wild.

He knelt down and sifted away superfluous leaves and dirt until resting in plain sight was a silver bracelet. Not real silver and not really a bracelet. Something better.

"Turns out sunshine is more than disinfectant. Yes, Ms. Juneau. I did indeed find something. A medical bracelet. Depending on the severity of the condition, it should be easy to narrow down who it belongs to."

He stood up with a little creak in his knees and hoped his junior associate wouldn't notice. It was a foolish bit of pride but when Ms. Juneau had joined the DA's office, he found himself a little more interested in the position of liasion he found himself holding. It wasn't primarily about her looks. Being honest, there was something in her looks though. Her eyes had a way of drawing everyone to her and they had an insistence that made one want to bear their soul. Bob had misplaced that relic but she made him feel resonance. If he had vocalized this, it would make him more the old fool than he felt.

She made him remember the days when the job felt doable. That justice will prevail on the scales. She'd bought him a nice gift of whiskey despite expressing what seemed genuine concern for the habit. Everyone else had taken out numbers on when he would kick it. All of this added to his clearing his throat and presuming as professional a tone as he could, "Of course, there is the tiny matter of HIPPA laws that will make asking the hospital a real pain in the ass. I don't suppose you can help an old timer out with the red tape?I find the tears of bureaucrats much more palatable than blue haired women mourning Mittens. And there is an ever present danger with this person loose. Yes, person. Animals have been ruled out."

Without ceremony and some annoyance, he realized he had to retrieve the bracelet for processing and the snap of the gloves was sharper than usual. He bent down and runner's knee gave a yelp. He wanted to tell Andrea don't get old, it's for the birds. The bracelet was bagged and he got back up swiftly to try and maintain some appearance of vitality. The car trilled as he unlocked the doors from the alley.

"Shall we go to the hospital then? Maybe if I'm lucky, I will catch my niece there. Have I ever told you about her?"

He opened the car door for her and waited before entering and off they went.