It looked in cautiously, being careful not to disturb the neighbors’ peaceful slumber, even though what It was about to do would disturb even the craziest of all the psychotics. Slowly and ever so quietly It slipped towards the back door of the small, one-story home. It had to be stealthy, had to be cautious at all cost or Its plan would fail. In less than five seconds It had the door unlocked and was making Its way down the dim corridor. The only light came from the child’s nightlight. Only, the tiny plastic lamp couldn’t protect her from this monster. It crept with sick expertise across the hall and into the young couple’s bedroom. Because of the new baby, It didn’t need to worry about a creaky door for the mother wanted to be able to hear him crying if he should wake in the middle of the night. It grinned at the shear simplicity of this project. It couldn’t believe how It was just gliding straight through the steps with such perfected ease. Its excitement was rising at a rapid pace as It approached the father. With Its gentle deadly hands, It applied the exact amount of force to snap the man’s neck, ending his life in a fraction of a second. With the muscle out of the way, It could take care of the only remaining threat: the young boy in the next room. It pulled a beautifully crafted knife out of Its back pocket as It walked silently into the 16-year-old’s room. Knife poised, It approached the bed, all the while making no audible sound. With one finely practiced motion, the boy was gone. The little girl was even easier. It took little force to restrain and suffocate her. Sure she struggled a bit, but that is what made the job such a thrill for It. The mother was the last to die. Pulling out a needle, It injected enough chemicals in her to knock out an elephant. With that out of the way, It wrapped a noose around her neck and threw it over the open bedroom door. Pulling on it, until her feet left the ground, It closed the door, leaving her to hang their and die a slow death. It slid back out of the house to let the victims wait for someone to discover them. If only It could stick around and watch the reaction of whoever is unlucky enough to find Its project. But It had other matters to tend to.

 

            The alarm clock went off, jolting me out of my dreams.

            “5 o’clock already?” I groaned, not wanting to get out of bed. As if on cue, my cell phone started vibrating. “Hello?”

            “Is this Surinadi McLowin?” a female voice asked.

            “Yes, and you are…?” I mumbled.

            “Lieutenant Miranda Stasten,” she responded, “I’m with the crime lab.”

            “Oh, right,” I muttered, still half asleep, “I have an appointment with you today.”

            “That’s what I’m calling about,” Miranda explained, “I wanted to tell you that we are going to have to cancel. It seems that we won’t be needing your services after all.”

            “Wait. What?” I shouted into the phone, suddenly awake, “I haven’t even started yet and you’re already firing me?”

            “I’m sorry, Miss McLowin, but I must go,” with that she hung up.

            I slammed the phone down with a cry, startling my Australian Shepard, Kaydo.

            “This can’t be happening,” I growled, and looked at Kaydo, “Come on, boy, help me pick out something to wear. I’m going down to the crime lab.”

            He jumped off of the bed and pushed open the closet door with his muzzle. I rushed over to my mirror and attempted to brush out the knots in my mid-back length, dark brown hair. Even though it was as straight as it could get without being stiff as a board, it still knotted up horribly. Thank God it’s not curled, I thought, shuddering to think of combing out curls that would just knot up even worse. Kaydo brought over a pair of black dress pants and a long sleeved, white dress shirt.

            “Why thank you,” I smiled, taking the clothes from him and slipping them on. I inspected myself in the mirror, finding everything to semi satisfaction, and walked into the kitchen. Kaydo was already waiting patiently by his bowl, gazing at me to hurry up and get his food. “Alright boy, hang on.” I pulled the bag of kibble out of the cupboard and poured it into the bone shaped bowl. The Shepard inhaled the food quickly and went to lay on the couch. I rolled my eyes.

He is way too mellow to be my dog, I thought.

            I didn’t bother eating breakfast myself. I just grabbed my jacket, said goodbye to Kaydo, and headed out into the warm Tennessee morning.

 

            “Hello, I’m looking for Miranda Stasten?” I said sweetly to the secretary at the front desk. She was a small woman, probably in her late 20’s. She had straight, chin length, brown hair and navy blue eyes.

            “Just a second,” she instructed, “I’ll try to find her.” The emphasis that she put on the word ‘try’ told me that the lieutenant wasn’t the easiest person to get a hold of. The secretary left the front desk and went around the corner.

            The crime lab was an interesting place. It reminded me of the set of CSI: Miami, the crime show I watched as a kid that got me hooked on ballistics. Replicas of the badges of fallen or retired officers were mounted on the wall. Three in particular caught my eye. Frank Rogers, Dwayne Rogers, and Dwight Rogers. They must be related, I thought.

            “I’m Lieutenant Stasten, how can I help you?” the voice from the phone said. I whipped around to find a five foot, six inch tall woman, with curly, shoulder length, black hair and fierce light brown eyes. I could see why she was the boss. Her stance just screamed well-organized, no nonsense, and power.

            “Yes, I know,” I said through clenched teeth, trying to hide my anger, “I’m Surinadi McLowin. We talked on the phone.”

            “Oh,” she didn’t seem surprised, (and was that a smile?) “I thought I might be seeing you.”

            “I was just wondering,” I paused, took a breath to calm myself, then continued, “wondering why on Earth you would cancel our appointment?”

            “I didn’t,” she smirked. Wait what?

Backup!

Rewind!

Reverse!

Repeat!

I could have sworn that she called and canceled!

“Excuse me?” I demanded.

“That’s right,” she grinned, “I do this to anyone who applies. I figure if you really want this job, you’d be willing to fight for it. Because of this, I have some of the best forensic scientists in Tennessee.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to comprehend what she was telling me.

“So this was all a trick?” I accused.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she looked pleased with herself. What a great way to start a career. But I guess if the boss has a sense of humor, then it can’t be that bad. “So when can you start?”

“Right now if you need me,” I shrugged.

“Cassia!” Miranda called. A tall woman, maybe 5’8”, 5’9”, something like that, walked over. “This is Cassia Jairus. She’s our other ballistics expert and she’ll be giving you the grand tour of the lab because I’ve got some paperwork to fill out.” Cassia had curly, dark brown hair, with white blonde streaks in the front, that fell to about her waist, and dark green eyes. She looked like a model, so seemed severely out of place as a crime scene investigator.

“Follow me,” she sighed. (I guess she was the one usually stuck giving the tours.)

“I’m Surinadi McLowin-“ I introduced myself but was cut off.

“I know,” her gloomy demeanor disappeared, (which I didn’t think was coming back) replaced by a cheerful smile, “So what’d you think of Miranda’s little trick?”

“That was cruel and unusual,” I snorted, “I think I’m gonna like it here.”

Cassia laughed at this. “Yeah, she did that to all of us. We were just the only ones brave or stupid enough to actually come down here anyway. We got hired almost immediately.”

“Does everyone here like to pull pranks on the new guy?” I asked nervously.

“I’ll let you figure that out yourself,” she said with snicker, mischief glowing in her eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I muttered. Oh, great!

“So, Surinadi, ya got any kids?” Cassia smirked.

“Yeah, just no human ones,” I replied, thinking about my little rescue pet. “I have an Aussie Shepard named Kaydo. He’s my baby, and he won’t let you forget it either.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve got a cat, Holiday. She’s only got three legs but you’d think she had eight by the way she darts around everywhere.”

We came to the first section of the lab. It had a couple of computers, a bunch of machines (I believe they were called Gas Chromatograph Mass Spectrometers), some microscopes, and one very serious looking dude putting a slide together.

“This is Trace,” Cassia announced, then walked over to the guy, “and this is Brett Ren, our Trace Dude.” Brett had short, spiky, black hair and bright blue eyes. He was probably about 6’2” and strangely attractive.

“’Sup?” he raised his eyebrows as some sort of hello and stuck the slide in the microscope.

“Would it kill you to be a little social?” Cassia smacked him on the back of the head.

“It will if don’t stop hitting me in the head,” he joked. Just like Cassia, Brett’s gloomy attitude vanished and he got really cheerful. To be honest, it was really starting to creep me out.

“Hi, I’m Surinadi McLowin,” I introduced myself for the millionth time that day, offering my hand.

“You’re the new bullet girl, right?” he asked.

“Bullet girl?” I questioned.

“That’s what we call the chicks in the ballistics department,” Cassia explained.

“Oh, in that case, yeah I am.”

“Well, we’d better get going,” Cassia announced, “I’ve still got a whole lab to show you.”

 

            “Ciara?” Cassia called. There wasn’t anyone there, as far as I knew. (but what do I know, anyway)

            “Is this DNA?” I asked, looking around. There were a bunch of centrifuges, so I could only guess that we were in the DNA lab.

            “Oh, gosh, not again.” Cassia walked over to a girl passed out with her head on an open file.

            “Workaholic?” I suggested.

            “Is it that obvious?” Cassia asked, shaking the woman’s shoulders, “Ciara… Ciara!”

            “What! I didn’t do it, I swear!” the chick yelled, waking up.

            “Guilty conscience?” Cassia smirked.

            “Cassia, what are you doing in here?” she groaned.

            “I work here,” the brunette rolled her eyes, “And I’m giving a tour.”

            “Oh, hello there. I’m Ciara Oslo. DNA.” I shook her hand. (again with the hand shaking!)

            Ciara had crimped, blonde hair that came to about her shoulders and dark green eyes. She looked to be in her early thirties. But the thing that stood out the most, was the fact that she was almost six feet tall! I felt like a mouse standing next to a giraffe.

            “I’m Surinadi McLowin,” I said for the nine thousandth time.

            “Ballistics right?”

            “How’d you know?” I asked. Did everyone know I was coming? I thought.

            “Miranda told all of us that we might be getting a new bullet girl soon at our last staff meeting.”

 

            After DNA, my fellow ballistics chick took me through QD, Toxicology, Layout, Fingerprinting, then back to the other side of the lab to Audio.

            “This is Audio,” she grinned, “Or as most of us like to call it, Hackers’ Ville! And this is The Hacker herself: Tanya Omura!”

            A young woman, who looked like she should still be in high school, not in the crime lab, with the way she had dyed the ends of her black ponytail navy blue, sat a computer, trying to decode a flash drive. She didn’t turn away from her work, just stole a quick glance at me from the corner of her eye. She didn’t look like one that would switch personalities on me, or so I hoped.

            She didn’t let me down either.

            “The Hacker?” Tanya shrugged, her dark brown eyes still locked on the encrypted files, “Right, whatever. I’ve got work to do, so let’s play the name game later.”

            The woman waved us away, not taking her eyes off the screen.

            “She’ll lighten up once she gets to know you,” Cassia reassured me.

 

            The ballistics lab was the last place in the tour, besides the morgue, but Cassia didn’t want to go there until I got my first case.

            Guns were displayed on the walls like trophies. Microscopes, for analyzing bullets, were perched on the table next to computers. I’m home! I thought with glee.

            “I’ve saved the best for last,” Cassia boasted proudly, “the ballistics department!” She breathed in deeply, “Ahhhh, don’t you just love the smell of gun powder and bullet fragments in the morning?”

            “Oh, yeah!” I agreed, taking a big whiff of the lab. Others might find it weird that I like the fragrant odor of a smoking gun, but I didn’t care. It was heavenly and I loved it. Besides, firing a gun is a great way to relieve stress!

            “You bullet girls get stranger every day,” a man dressed in scrubs muttered, walking in with a file in hand.

            “Hey, Micheal,” Cassia greeted him, “Surinadi, this is Micheal Lostech. Micheal, this Surinadi McLowin.” I was grateful that she spared me the agony of making another introduction.

            Micheal was a bald man with forest green eyes. He had pink stud earrings in both ears.

            In an attempt to make small talk I asked, “So Micheal, you married?”

            “Nope, me and Todd aren’t really ready to settle down just yet,” he responded.

            “Todd?”

            “Mike, here, is gay,” Cassia explained.

            I blushed, hoping I hadn’t offended him or anything.

            He must have sensed my discomfort, so he asked me the same question.

            “Not even a boyfriend,” I shrugged, “It’s just me and my dog, Kaydo.”

            “Oh, we can fix that, honey,” Micheal winked.

            “Wait. I thought you were gay?”

            “I am.”

            “Then why are you flirting with me?”

            “He does that to mess with people’s minds.” Cassia punched him in the arm.

            “Ouch!” he cried, “Yeah, I’m a sick little bastard.”

            “You got that right! But then again, we all are here at the lab!” the ballistics freak joked.

            “You guys are insane!” another man laughed, standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a police uniform, so I guessed he was a patrol officer that liked to hang with the CSI’s. A serious looking German Shepard sat at his feet, so I decided Canine Unit.

            “Marcus!” Micheal cheered, “What are you doing here?”

            “Just coming to see Ciara about the Henalin case,” the black man replied, turning his attention to me, “And who might this little beauty be?”

            “Surinadi McLowin.” The officer shook my hand.

            “Marcus Rogers. And this is my partner, Jenna,” he introduced himself and the dog. She barked a greeting. He must be related to those other guys on the wall.

            I was about to ask him about it when Miranda came in.

            “Got you your first case,” she said, handing me a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it, a black crime kit, and a camera, “Micheal, we need you, too.”

            With that she walked out.

            “We got a fatality on Silers Bald Mountain in Tremont,” a voice over Marcus’ radio said.

            “10-4,” Marcus called in, “I’ll be right on it.”

            “Looks like we’re going to the same place,” I smiled, reading the address on the paper. My first case! I thought. Awesome!

 

            “Someone call for a ballistics expert?” I yelled to Marcus.

            “Hey, Surinadi!” he smiled, “It’s about time you got here. Did ya get lost or something’?” I nodded with a blush. Miranda, Ciara, and Micheal were already there and were standing at the bottom of a cliff, looking up.

            “So where’s the body?” I asked, searching for the reason I was there.

            “Actually it’s bodies and they’re up on that ledge,” Ciara responded, pointing to a piece of rock, jutting out of the mountain about seventy-five feet above us.

            “Is anyone going up there, or are we just going to stand around, doing nothing?”

            “We’ve got to wait for someone to come a bring the body down for us,” Miranda pointed out.

            “But wouldn’t that compromise the scene? We need to get up there and process it before anyone contaminates it,” I argued, my eyes wide with disbelief. They weren’t even going to try to climb it. I guess it’s up to the rookie to save the day, I thought, and our case. Defense attorneys would jump on a potentially compromised scene because it would help their side considerably and ruin ours.

            “None of us are going to risk trying to climb this thing,” Micheal stated.

            “Well, I’m not going to stand around and let some wannabe CSI ruin our case just because he can climb a rock,” I snapped, setting down my crime kit, “I’m going up there.”

            “I don’t think that is a good idea, kid,” Ciara warned.

            “And since when do I care if it’s a good idea or not,” I reminded her. I was notorious for doing stupid stunts for the sake of my case. “Micheal, give me a boost.”

            “No way!” the medical examiner shouted, “I’m not going to help you on your path to my table.”

            “Fine,” I huffed, “Hey, Marcus!”

            “What’s up?” he said, jogging over.

            Ciara and Micheal gave me a dirty look.

            “Give me a lift?” I smiled sweetly, batting my eyes.

            “Sure,” he agreed, grabbing me by the waist, and pushing me higher up the wall. I grabbed a handhold and started climbing, my camera still around my neck.

            I got halfway up to the ledge when I heard shouting from below. Micheal must have been telling Marcus off for ‘helping me to his table.’ I could care less. I knew my climbing abilities ranked pretty high, so I wasn’t worried at all. Of course, I hadn’t done it in a while, so I was a bit rusty, but that didn’t stop me from having fun with it.

            I reached the top in no time at all. I pulled myself onto the ledge and stood up, but what I found made me sick.

            About a dozen or so bodies littered the floor and hunched over the corpse of a little girl, was a man. Blood dripped from his face as he gnawed on her arm. He looked up, spotting me. My stomach lurched. His face was covered in the red plasma and his eyes had a wild shimmer to them. I felt my face grow hot then cold almost simultaneously. My vision started to blur as I nearly passed out from the hideous scene in front of me. The cannibal continue to eye me. I knew what he was thinking: second course.

            He got to his feet, a .35 caliber Remington slung over his shoulder falling to his side, and I stepped back. I felt my right heel go over the edge. The man lunged at me, causing me to, instinctively step back again. I slipped and fell, grabbing the ledge with both hands. My camera smacked me in the side, almost making me let go. Peering over the side, the man stared down at me. He grinned, exposing blood coated teeth with chunks of human skin embedded in them. He knelt down on the edge, lowering his face toward my fingers. My eyes went wide and I screamed as he bit into my flesh. I let go, feeling a current of air rush past me. My hands snatched at the rock until they finally caught something. The larger handhold I had grabbed threaten to break, but held strong. Stupidly, I looked back up, just to find the bloody man loading his rifle, then pointing it at my face. I glanced down, seeing Marcus and the other officers pulling out their firearms, and aiming them at the guy. One shot rang out, then about ten more. I felt pain explode in my left shoulder and my arm go dead. A blurred figure fell past me, hitting the ground with a thud. I knew that I couldn’t hold on much longer. Finally, my grip failed me and I plunged toward the earth.

            I landed on something. Maybe it was someone. My eyes fluttered open. Yep, it was someone. Micheal had come to my rescue and caught me before I hit the ground. Marcus charged over, helping me off of Micheal. Unable to stand, I fell into him.

            “You alright?” he asked.

            “That was a dumb question,” I blurted. Did I just say that out loud?

“I’m sorry. I was just wondering if you were okay,” the officer snapped, sounding hurt.

            “Sorry,” I apologized, “Pain makes me irritable. Add what I just saw and I turn into a hateful little bitch.”

            “What did you see up there?” Miranda questioned, coming over.

            I didn’t want to think about it. I rubbed the hand he had bitten. A row of puncture marks lined my fist. The scene automatically popped into my head, making the remains of my half-digested breakfast begin to come back out.

            “Excuse me,” I muttered, running to a bush.

            Ciara came over and held my hair as I emptied my stomach, hydrochloric acid and all.

            “Better?” she asked when I had finished. Well, I thought I was finished, but more acid flooded out of my body, burning my throat.

            “I-I am n-now,” I stuttered, wiping my face. My body must have decided that it didn’t like that and I collapsed.

            “Easy,” Ciara whispered, catching me, “I need a paramedic over here!”

            Black slowly crept its way into my mind as I passed out.

 

            When I finally came to, all I noticed was the stupid beeping of the heart monitor.

            Alright, either my heart needs to stop beating or someone needs to turn off that machine, I thought, preparing to murder the monitor if one of the two things didn’t happen.

            “Hey, kid,” Cassia’s voice came out of the fuzzy, colourful blur that was supposed to be a hospital room, “How are you feeling?”

            “Like hell,” I muttered bitterly, “How do you think I feel?”

            “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” she smiled sarcastically.

“So has Miranda told when I’m gonna be able to come back to work?” I asked, my thoughts swirling.

“That should be the last thing you’re worrying about, kid,” Cassia raised an eyebrow.

“I know but I’m an insane ballistics chick, remember?” I gave a weak smile. Then everything went white.

Cassia’s muffled voice reached my ears but just barely. My eyesight was gone, my hearing was going, and I’d be unconscious in just a second if I didn’t get my body under control.

Of course I didn’t, so out I went.

 

Two days passed and I was finally discharged. I don’t think those nurses have ever seen someone fly out of that hospital as fast as I did. Sadly though, I had to wait another full day before I could go to work again.

 

I walked into the ballistics lab, glad to be back at work, but having a massive headache. Cassia was already there, staring intently at a bullet fragment. Her normally well groomed, brown hair was now messy and in dyer need of a brush and her dark green eyes practically screamed for sleep.

            “Hey, Cassia,” I smiled. She obviously didn’t know I was there by the way she jumped about two feet into the air.

            “I didn’t hear you come in!” she said a little too loudly.

            “I didn’t scare you did I?” I smirked, slipping into my white lab coat.

            “No,” the bullet girl glared defensively.

            “Sure I didn’t,” I rolled my eyes sarcastically.

            “I wasn’t scared!”

            “Whatever you say.”

            “I wasn’t!”

            “Stop bickering you two,” Miranda snapped, walking in with a file in her hand, “1452 Dontel Avenue, four fatalities, and I want you there ten minutes ago.” She shoved the file into my hands and gave another to Cassia. “2418 Subar Lane, one DB. Now get going, the both of you.”

I pulled off my lab coat, grabbed my black crime kit, and flew out the door, heading straight into the second assignment for my new job.

 

            1452 Dontel Avenue was a cute, little one-story home across the street from a small park. It was in the nice part of town, where murders weren’t too common, so having four fatalities was odd. To make things even weirder, a ballistics expert wasn’t even needed for this scene. I was only here because I was a CSI. All they needed was for me to help collect evidence and hand it off to the others. This sucked. My first assignment was a bust because I ended up spending the entire case in the hospital. (Cassia and the others found out within the first day that the cannibal dude was the killer. All I get to do now is be an eye witness in court.) Oh, joy! And now all I get to do with my second case is collect evidence. Where’s the fun in that? Oh, well. At least I get to work this one instead of falling off a cliff.

            The scene was sickening. Not messy, but it definitely made you want to puke.

            A young mother was hung over the door to her bedroom, while her husband was in their bed with a broken neck, according to our medical examiner.

            “Murder suicide?” Micheal suggested glumly as he walked in.

            “Maybe,” I responded, disappointed sadness flooding my voice. It never ceased to amaze me how cruel people could be to each other.

            “Teresa and Jesse Jacksons,” a blonde woman with a notepad said, “They have three kids: Damian, 16; Sarah, 7; and Aidan, 4 weeks. Both are school teachers at the same primary private school.”

            “Where are the children?”

            “Aidan’s with social services and the other two are-“ she cut herself off. We didn’t need her to finish though to know what happened. “I’m Nicole Alore, by the way. You can call me Nikki though.”

            “Surinadi McLowin.”

            “Ballistics right?” Nikki asked.

            “How’d you know?”

            “I’m not sure how it worked at that little Miami collage that you went to, but here in Tennessee, everyone knows everything that’s going on.”

            That did it! “Actually, I went to school here in Tennessee from preschool ‘til my masters and did an internship at the crime lab in Houston for a year before coming back to my home state. So I do know how it works in Tennessee.”

            She looked shocked by my quick response. My past had taught me to be on my toes at all times and always have a backup thought, just in case your initial retort backfires.

            “Children, play nice,” Micheal warned.

            “Alright, CSI, how’s about I go round us up some suspects and you get some evidence to nail ‘em with?”

            “Sounds like a plan.”

            While Micheal helped some of the other CSIs lower Teresa to the floor, I started collecting trace on Jesse for Brett. There wasn’t much to work with though. No stray hairs, no fibers, no DNA, no nothing!

            “This guy’s good,” I muttered to myself.

            “I’ll say!” Brett exclaimed, “All he left us with was that rope and the victims’ stuff.”

            “Nice use of technical terms,” I butted in.

            “He couldn’t even leave a smudge, a hair. I don’t even care if it doesn’t have a skin tag! At least we’d have something! But no!”

            “I know. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to get caught,” I rolled my eyes.

            “Very funny, Surinadi,” the trace expert replied.

            “Thanks.”

 

            I went over the body over and over again about five times but still couldn’t find a thing.

            “Ya done with him yet?” Micheal asked, coming to where I was kneeling beside Jesse.

            “Yeah, he’s all yours,” I sighed, taking off my gloves and slipping on a new pair for the next room.

            Pink and yellow daisies were painted on the walls and light blue and purple butterflies were sewn into the bedspread and pillows. Micheal had already taken the little girl and I was glad for that, I didn’t want to see that poor thing, who’s life was taken all too soon. A bright orange butterfly nightlight was still on, which brought tears to my green eyes.

            “Guess it only protects her from closet monsters,” Brett said sadly, a twinge of bitterness shining through.

            A small tear slid down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, only to have it replaced by two more. I tried to brush them away as quickly as I could but they wouldn’t stop flowing.

            “It’s okay,” Brett whispered, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders.

            “Why?” I cried softly.

            “I don’t know. No one has been able to figure it out yet.”

            I dried my tears and got back to work.

            “We should, um, bag the pillows and blanket and I’ll dust for prints.”

            “Do you know how to do that?” Brett questioned.

            “Uh, duh!” I smirked, “I learned how in high school.”

            “High school? I didn’t know that they thought forensics until collage.”

            “My best friend had convinced me to apply for the legal studies academy at her school and I actually got in, so I got to take forensics,” I explained with a stupid grin.

            The trace dude nodded and shrugged as he stuffed the folded comforter into a bag and tagged in with a number.

 

            After processing Sarah’s room, Brett and I dropped the evidence bags at our black explorers with ‘CSI Crime Scene Investigator’ written on the sides. Then we went back inside to process Damian’s room.

            It was by far the worst. The young teen had bled profusely all over his bed.

            “Poor thing. Didn’t have a chance. Probably was out with his buds just the other day, not thinkin’ this would be his last night,” Micheal’s eyes passed over the boy’s body, a pain only people in our line of work could have pouring from his gaze. They held many of these tragic scenes, some worse than others, but all unbelievably cold.

            You could see the expertise and cunning that created that wound in Damian’s throat. It was sad. He had a long life ahead of him and shouldn’t have gone this way.

            “Let me see him!” a girl’s voice rang out. The next second, a frantic teenager came running into the bedroom. “Damian!” she cried.

            “Whoa. You can’t be in here,” Brett told her, standing in between the girl and the body, blocking her view, “Who are you anyway?”

            “Alison Ridds. That’s my boyfriend, Damian Jacksons!” she sobbed.

            “Let me take care of this,” I interrupted, leading her back outside, “Come on, sweetheart.”

            She buried her face into my shirt and cried hard.

            “Why did this have to happen?” Alison choked out.

            “I don’t know, honey,” I repeated Brett’s response to the same question I’d asked earlier, “Did he have any enemies?”

            “Of course!” she exclaimed, “We’re in high school. There’s a lot of kids. He was bound to rub someone the wrong way, but of them would ever go as far as killing him and his family!” I didn’t like the emphasis she put on ‘and.’ Alison started shaking and her breathing got quicker.

            “Calm down. It’s gonna be alright,” I sighed, bringing her close.

            “What’s going on?” she asked, in a panicked tone, “It feels life my heart is about to explode.”

            “You’re having a panic attack,” I explained, “Now look at that mailbox.” Her eyes shifted to a white mailbox next door. “See the Mustang over there?”

            “Yeah,” she breathed.

            “Now, see that house across the street?” I pointed at some random two story home.

            Alison’s breathing eventually slowed back to normal and she thanked me.

            “No problem.”        

            “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

            I gave a half smile. “My sister used to get attacks all the time.”

            “What’s your sister’s name?”

            “Cassia,” I answered.

            “What happened to her?” Alison asked.

            “She became a scientist and now lives here.”

            “That’s cool.” The girl’s tears finally dried and she got up to leave, “Thanks again.”

            “You don’t have a sister, do you?” Micheal accused when Alison was out of earshot.

            “Nope,” I stated.

            “Then where did you learn that stuff from?”

            “From my personal experiences.”

 

            Kaydo greeted me at the door, bushy tail wagging.

            “Hey boy,” I smiled weakly, walking numbly over to the dark violet couch and slipping off my ankle high, black boots. Kaydo hopped up and curled up next to me like a cat.

            Just when I had gotten comfortable, that stupid phone of mine started ringing. I ignored it, not wanting to talk anyway. Whoever was calling hung up without leaving a message. I guess it wasn’t that important, I thought with a little hint of relief. Seconds later, it started up again. I lifted myself off the couch with a groan and trudged over to it. Kaydo let out a low growl.

            “It’s just the phone, crazy,” I laughed. He didn’t care, just kept growling and leaped off the couch and stepped in front of me as if he didn’t want me to answer it.

            “Go lay down, Kaydo!” I snapped. He hesitated, began to walk away but decided against it. The shepherd stood his ground. I repeated my command and still he didn’t move, so I walked around him. My little Aussie was stubborn though and grabbed the end of my pants leg. This was strange behavior for him. I pulled my pants out of his mouth and pointed to my room. “Go!”

            The dog reluctantly obeyed and I got to the phone just before the last ring.

            “Hello?” I asked.

            “What’d you think?” an obviously altered voice whispered gruffly.

            “Excuse me?”

            “I did pretty good, huh?” the voice said, excitement jumping through the phone.

            “Who is this?”

            “I mean, seriously! This project was genius!” the person rambled on, ignoring me.

            “Micheal, is that you?” I questioned.

            “Hell no! How dare you compare me to that half-wit, gay freak!”

            “Sorry. Then who are you?”

            “Just call me It,” the voice answered, sounding rather creepy.

            “Brett?”

            “Again with the insults! The girl crazy, sex monkey couldn’t hold a candle to me,” It ranted, “No one at that pathetic excuse for a lab could even come close to matching my brilliance! Except you, Miss Surinadi. You are smart. You know what you’re doing out there. You should be the one running that place, not that Miranda.”

            “Hey, if all you’re going to do is make fun of my colleges, then I’m gonna hang up!” I snapped.

            “I’m sorry. So you did you think of my work?”

            “What work?”

            “You know. What I did with the Jacksons family. Pretty good, no?” It bragged.