Section 2 of Crimson Snow

Section 2 - Without Emotion We Can Finally See Clearly

         Playing Detective


‘Morning,’ Deonte said as he walked into the office he and Reagan shared. ‘Did you actually go home and sleep at all?’ he asked as he saw the dark rings that adorned the other’s rugged features.
         ‘For a couple of hours.’ Reagan replied, rubbing one hand over the fine dusting of stubble across his chin, masking a yawn. ‘You said yourself that we have little time for such things, we are on the hunt of a killer, remember?’ he added, looking at Deonte. ‘You, on the other hand, look well rested.’
         ‘I can hardly catch a murderer if I’m falling asleep on the job.’ He was one of those irritating people who had an answer for everything.
         ‘Yes, well, they’re likely to take another victim tonight, I’ve been trying to see whether I can get any clues together.’ Reagan responded in his defence.
         ‘Have you?’
         ‘No.’ he sighed, spreading the five pictures out on the desk again. ‘I just can’t work out a common link. It’s like playing with a jigsaw where most of the pieces are missing. We must have looked over something. I mean, we know they are all teenage males, all good looking but that doesn’t exactly narrow it down much. They don’t know each other, don’t go to the same school, or even live in the same neighbourhood. The only thing that links them are these damned roses and I have to wonder whether they weren’t just planted, excuse the pun, there to throw us off the scent.’

         He sighed again and swept the pictures to the floor irritably, slumping over the desk as the pieces of paper fluttered silently to the floor, landing face down on the carpet. Deonte watched him wordlessly, unsure as to what to do before moving around the other side of the table and wrapping an arm around the other. Almost subconsciously Reagan leant back into Deonte’s touch, closing his eyes tiredly, seeking comfort in the other’s close warmth. The man-child was perfectly content to hold his partner for the moment, Reagan turning his head to the side slightly to listen to Deonte’s heart beat in his ear softly. Suddenly the door flew open and the two of them sprang apart in surprise, Reagan only just realising with embarrassment what he had been doing as the reverie was broken.

         ‘I tried to stop them.’ A policewoman gasped apologetically as two women came into the office.
         ‘Don’t worry, we’re old friends aren’t we, Miss Carr?’ Reagan replied, looking at a pretty, blonde haired female with flashing blue eyes and carefully made-up red lips.
         ‘You could say that, I suppose, Sergeant.’ she answered curtly, placing two hands on her hips as she glared down at other, Reagan looking back at her calmly as the door was closed quietly.
         ‘Won’t you sit, Miss Carr, and…?’ he said politely, gesturing to the two chairs that were set out, his eyes now landing on a more timid looking woman with pale blue eyes and long mousy brown hair that she frequently hid behind, staring intently at the floor.
         ‘I’m…’ she began shyly before she was cut off, blinking behind her glasses that kept slipping down her nose.
         ‘That’s my sister, Violet.’ Miss Carr replied, taking a seat and smoothing out her black skirt that matched the rest of her outfit, promptly echoed by her sister. ‘Now I assume you know why we’re here.’
         ‘Well, Olivia, you don’t mind if I use your first name do you?’ he asked, not waiting for an answer, ‘If it’s in anyway similar to your last visit then you’re here because of your brother, Luke Carr’s death.’
         ‘Partially, Luke is dead now and I accept that I can’t bring him back but to see the killer brought to justice is what I… what we want, to put an end to these murders, none of us feel safe these days. Are the police not here to protect us?’ she asked, glancing over at Deonte and her whole attitude changing.

         ‘Now who is this?’ she purred, standing up and walking over to Deonte who blushed and stepped away from her, trying to hide from Olivia’s penetrating gaze who was studying him intently.
         ‘That’s Deonte, my partner.’ Reagan told her in a clipped voice, ‘Now if we could please return to the matter in hand?’ he added.
         ‘Of course, of course.’ she said as she moved back over to her seat and perching on the edge primly, folding her hands in her laps, perfect red fingernails vivid against her fair skin.
         ‘We are here to protect you, Olivia, and we are doing our best...’
         ‘Your best isn’t good enough.’ Olivia argued.
         ‘Be that as it may we are doing our best and unfortunately that is all we can do, if you think you can do better…’
         ‘Oh we will, you’ll see, Reagan.’ she retorted, reaching into her handbag as she spoke, pulling out a mirror to check her reflection under the bemused gazes of both policemen. ‘You’re not the only one who can play detective, you know.’ she added.
         ‘Olivia, this our job, not yours, leave it to the people who are qualified to do it.’
         ‘Qualified?’ she scoffed, touching up her lipstick and then replacing the mirror. ‘From what I have seen you are far from qualified to do this job, maybe flipping burgers is something more suited to one of your calibre, Reagan.’ she told him mellifluously, batting her eyelashes in Deonte’s direction. ‘Your partner, on the other hand, is probably far better, you look like you’ve been drinking.’ she added, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
         ‘Actually,’ Deonte started boldly, ‘Reagan was here working all night, that’s why he looks so rough.’ Reagan blinked at the fact that Deonte was sticking up for him, but then it sunk in what the other had actually said… He was about to retort in his defence but was interrupted by Olivia.
         ‘Oh, well…’ she said, getting to her feet with an arrogant flounce, beckoning authoritatively to her sister. ‘Come on, Violet.’ she ordered as she walked to the door, looking back at Reagan. ‘This won’t be the last you hear from us,’ she warned, ‘I’ve tried to be fair but my patience has snapped.’ She clicked her fingers to emphasise her point. ‘I’ll see my own way out. Come on, Violet. Goodbye, officers.’ With that she walked out, the sound of her heels fading down the corridor.

         ‘I really am sorry for my sister, she can be a little strong headed when she gets an idea and Luke’s death as fired her up more than usual.’ Violet apologised softly, adjusting her glasses nervously, unable to bring herself to meet either of the policemen’s eyes.
         ‘Don’t worry, Miss Carr, I can deal with your sister, but try to keep her out of trouble would you, please? We have enough to deal with as it is.’ Reagan said.
         ‘Please, call me Violet, and I will try but I don’t think it will help at all.’ she replied, looking nervously to the door and fidgeting restlessly, even more uneasy now she was alone with the two men.
         ‘No, I don’t suppose it will, I know Olivia well enough to realise that, but try anyway, please?’ he asked her.
         ‘I’ll try.’ she agreed, Olivia’s impatient voice drifting to them as she called to her sister once more. ‘I’d better go.’ She said, nodding to them both hurriedly and near fleeing the room. Silence reigned for a moment as the two men sat in shock at the encounter, Reagan breaking it first with another sigh and shaking his head.
         ‘Well, that was… interesting.’ Deonte murmured, ‘That was the woman you told me about, Olivia Carr?’
         ‘The very same.’ Reagan replied, ‘I need a breath of fresh air and a strong cup of coffee.’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘You coming?’ he asked Deonte as he looked back at him, pausing at the door.
         ‘Yes, I’ll come.’ Deonte assented as he walked after the other, ‘I won’t make the coffee this time, don’t worry.’
         Reagan laughed and the two of them walked out, closing the door again, the photos still lying on the floor by the desk, their faces turned to the carpet silently.

         The Truth Hurts Sometimes


An empty cup lay on its side, its contents spilled across the table surface and dripping to the floor. A sodden newspaper lay in the shallow pool and a half eaten slice of bread lay beside it, dropped there suddenly and abandoned as the coffee seeped into it. The cup still rocked backwards and forwards softly, rattling on the wood suggesting that it had been only recently been so hurriedly left.

         Carelessly, and obviously hastily, dressed Nathaniel stumbled down the stairs, pulling on a sock as he went, his unbuttoned shirt flapping around his otherwise bare torso. Some distant part of his mind registered that if he was to go out as he was then he would likely freeze to death and that would achieve nothing. So he grabbed a jacket from the cupboard, shoving his arms in the coat sleeves before putting on his trainers. He picked up his house keys and only paused to slam the front door behind him, fleeing the house into the crisp sunshine of early noon.

         It had to be a cruel joke, had to be. Someone was playing a cruel joke on him. That was the explanation. Christopher just could not be dead. He had to take a deep breath going anywhere, that same rational part of his mind that had earlier told him to get a jacket telling him that he would get lost if he ran out blindly. Once calm enough he ran in the direction of his friend’s house, only ten minutes away… Dodging pedestrians and watching out for the ice on the pavement that had been missed by the grit he made his way to the house, the sound of his trainers thudding on the ground rhythmically beneath him the only noise in his ears, not hearing the angry shouts of people he almost ran into.

         There was a loud banging on the front door of the Maine’s house, both the doorbell being rung repeatedly and someone rapping on the wood. ‘Go away. We don’t want to give anymore statements!’ A voice called from the window, all the curtains pulled to, stopping prying eyes.
         ‘Wait, you don’t understand, I’m not a reporter. Mrs Maine, Nicole! It’s Nathaniel, please, you must let me in!’ he cried, tears pricking his eyes to be blinked back rapidly. ‘Mrs Maine, Nicole…’ he near whispered, slumping tiredly against the door and almost turning to go before the entrance was opened.
         ‘Come in, Nathaniel.’ A young girl said in the doorway, her emerald green eyes flecked with gold looking at the other, so like her late brother’s that it was almost startling and nearly set him off crying properly.
         ‘Thank you, Nicole.’ He said as he stepped inside, shivering suddenly as if finally realising how cold he was. She shut the door behind him, her ponytail of brown hair swinging across her back, her slanted eyes also filled with unshed tears and a defiant flame of anger and an unspoken promise of revenge. She was going to hunt this killer down.

         Mrs Maine walked down the stairs and came over to embrace Nathaniel, crying on his shoulder. Nathaniel had been almost as much as a son to her as her own had been and she had loved them both. ‘Thank you for coming, Nathaniel, it’s good to see you again.’ She said, wiping her eyes with a tissue her daughter handed to her.
         ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Nathaniel murmured, hope and despair clashing his blue grey eyes, the colour of a stormy sky. Tears caressed his ivory cheeks, leaving snaking trails across the smooth sweeps as they fell unchecked now.
         ‘Yes, come through the living room, we can talk more there. Nicole, make some teas would you, darling?’ Mrs Maine said, leading Nathaniel through to the room where he and Christopher had spent many a late night sneaking down to watch 18 rated movies under the cover of darkness. Nathaniel could only follow silently, seeing that all the photos of his best friend had been taken down from the walls. Mrs Maine noticed him looking and dabbed her eyes again. ‘We… we had to take them down, it was too painful to see him up there smiling at us, happy and now…’ She bit her lip, too choked to speak. Nathaniel was not much better, only able to wrap his arms around the woman that had been like a second mother to him, the mother of his friend that he had loved like a brother, their love going beyond that in the last year or so…

         Nicole found them like that a few minutes later, her mother still crying softly against Nathaniel, his eyes catching hers as she walked over. ‘Come on, mum,’ she said comfortingly, her voice soothing as she drew her mother away from the boy. ‘Let’s get you to bed, okay?’
         ‘Okay…’
         ‘Help yourself to the tea.’ Nicole mouthed at Nathaniel as she continued to soothe her mother, taking her back upstairs, leaving the other alone in the room, all traces of his best friend, his lover and his brother removed except for the memories. But then, they were the worst.

         Revenge is Sweet


‘Sorry about that, she’s a little upset right now, as to be expected.’ Nicole told Nathaniel as she closed the door softly.
         ‘How could this happen?’ Nathaniel said in disbelief, his cup held idly in his hands, he could not quite come to grips with it.
         ‘We’re all in shock.’ The slim girl replied as she sat beside him, forced to grow up fast too suddenly, only fourteen and having to deal with her brother’s death, someone she had loved dearly and greatly admired. Nathaniel merely nodded, his brain not quite functioning, he had had to come to terms with it in a few moments and he was struggling. ‘We just keep expecting the door to open and him to walk in.’ she said quietly, sadness in her voice. But there were also traces of that same anger and defiance that was nursed in her eyes, the windows to the soul. She had made a promise on hearing the news of Christopher’s death that she would not rest until his killer had been caught and brought to justice, her mind already turned to trying to do that, plotting to lure the murderer out. She just needed an accomplice.

         ‘You do want the killer brought to justice, don’t you?’ she asked casually.
         ‘Of course I do, more than anything!’ Nathaniel replied.
         ‘Will you help me hunt them down?’
         ‘Isn’t that the police’s job…?’ he mused dubiously.
         ‘Yeah, we’re just going to give them a helping hand and stuff.’ she assured him, ‘You see there was this club that Christopher went to a few days ago…’
         ‘Dionysus, I know, I went. It was for his birthday.’
         Nicole nodded before continuing, ‘Well ever since then he’s been, had been acting strangely. Did you see anything that night?’
         Nathaniel did not reply, thinking about that night a week ago, the memory vivid in his mind…

         ‘Do you want to dance, Nathan?’ Chris asked, the only one he would allow to call him Nathan. ‘Dance with the birthday boy, hmm?’ Nathaniel grinned at him, the room swaying ever so slightly, they had already been drinking a little before this, as he stood up, grasping the hand that was outstretched to him.
         ‘You bet.’ he replied happily, moving closer to the other, pressing a chaste kiss to Christopher’s cheek. ‘So, birthday boy, what are you going to do after this?’
         ‘Well…’ birthday boy began with a mischievous smile as he led his friend to the dance floor, his warm body pressed teasingly against Nathaniel’s. Chris had to lean close to talk in the other’s ear so he would be heard, not that either of them were complaining about that. ‘Well, I don’t think any of them would miss us if we went off for a little while, to celebrate.’ he said, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of Nathaniel’s ear.
         ‘Ooh, feisty are we, my little vixen?’ he teased.
         ‘You bet’cha.’ Was the reply, Chris grinning at the other, ‘Although with you how could I not be? Nathan you are beautiful.’
         Grey blue eyes swept over Christopher, taking in his soft brown hair that fell over his bronzed forehead, to take in the green eyes the colour of a golden forest, burning with lust, lust for him. His eyes stroked the handsome features that surely could have been made with no other hands than God’s, too perfect, and then drifted lower. His eyes drifted over the fairly tight black shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck to show off his muscles and a teasing sliver of his chest that lay hidden below. Sweeping lower still he looked at the slender legs clad in black jeans, dressed to kill.

         ‘No Chris, you are beautiful.’ he replied in the end, finishing his assessment.
         ‘Fine, we’re both beautiful.’ Christopher amended with a laugh, ‘We make a good pair then, no?’
         ‘You’d make a good pair with a pig. Everyone would be too busy staring at you to notice your partner, especially if you dressed like that.’
         Christopher scolded him jokingly and spun Nathaniel round so he was facing away from the birthday boy, his back pressed up firmly against the other’s. ‘Careful what you say to me, or I might have to punish you for it.’ Chris warned, wriggling his hips slightly to show what he meant as they danced.
         Nathaniel gasped, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. ‘I think I bring myself to live with that.’ he murmured.
         ‘It’s possible to drive a man insane with pleasure.’
         ‘I’m insane already.’
         ‘Well I knew that already, god, I wish I could just take you on the dance floor.’
         ‘I wouldn’t advise it, how about the toilets at the back?’
         ‘Gotta be kidding me, no, I want to go somewhere clean at least.’
         ‘And the dance floor is?’ That got him another punishment, Chris’s hips grinding against his back, the other’s lips at his neck, sucking the pale flesh as his hot breath dancing over the pale skin. Nathaniel felt like he could melt right there in Christopher’s arms, he could die right then and never care.

         So busy wrapped up in each other they never noticed a curious onlooker, a man sitting in the shadows near the wall. Only the dance floor was brightly lit, the tables at the edges were cast in darkness and so they did not see him, embraced by the shadows as he was.

         Eventually desire got too much for the both of them, Chris taking Nathaniel’s wrist and pulling him out to the back, locking the both of them in one of the cubicles. Nathaniel slipped his arms around the other’s waist, capturing passion-swollen lips in a heated kiss as his lover’s hands slipped down to his trousers. There was a rush of release as his erection was freed from confinement and he moaned softly against Chris’s lips, warm hands taking the hard length in their fingers. ‘I’m not the only one who’s feisty.’ Christopher murmured as he saw this with delight.
         ‘It’s all those punishments of yours.’ Whatever the reason it did not matter, Chris slowly knelt before Nathaniel, taking him deep into the warm caverns of his mouth, filling Nathaniel with elated ecstasy. ‘It’s possible to drive a man insane with pleasure.’ Those words came back to him in his jumbled thoughts, definitely true. To stop himself from falling over he leant against the wall of the cubicle for support, Chris’s tongue working skilfully to draw his seed from him as he sucked, his fingers massaging the base of Nathaniel’s erection. ‘God, Chris, what do you practice on?’ he gasped out, unable to hold on much longer as those lips moved up and down, taking him to the back of his throat as he raked his teeth down the length. That was enough for Nathaniel and he spilled his load into the other’s mouth, going limp as he continued to lean against the wall. Stars drifted in front of his eyes with the orgasm, his cheeks flushed. That had been amazing…

         ‘Amazing.’ he whispered under his breath.
         ‘Sorry, Nathaniel, you say something?’ A female voice asked him, ‘You totally zoned out on me there, like you were on a different planet or something.’
         ‘No, just lost in memories.’ Nathaniel replied, shifting slightly as he found himself suddenly uncomfortable lower down, trying to hide it from Nicole.
         ‘Do you remember anything?’
         ‘Yes, well, no… Not anything strange, some girls asked us to dance and we said no, not enough to provoke them into killing Chris, surely.’
         ‘Hmm, you see anyone suspicious watching you?’
         ‘Plenty of people watching, how am I meant to know whether they were suspicious or not?’
Nicole sighed. ‘Something happened there, he was fine when he got home it was the next morning…’
         ‘Something happened in the night?’
         ‘Maybe I just thought maybe had met someone there.’
         ‘He didn’t,’ Nathaniel answered firmly, Nicole had never known about him and her brother. ‘You checked his room?’
         ‘Yeah, when he was acting all strange I did, all I found were some roses.’
         ‘Roses? Like the ones being left with the victims?’
         ‘No note though, not that I could find, he might have thrown them away. But he seemed to like getting them, the first one he was scared but after that…’

         Nathaniel had not seen his friend in a while and so this was all news to him. ‘Maybe someone did see him at the club and followed him home and decided to leave some roses, a secret admirer type thing.’ He was jealous to say the least, Chris had been his.
         ‘Maybe we should pay a visit to this club, ask around, you know.’ Nicole suggested. Nathaniel was fired up now, wanting to know who killed his lover.
         ‘Good idea, meet you there at 8?’ It never occurred to him that Nicole was too young and should not be going, he was not thinking logically at that moment, his thoughts elsewhere.
         ‘At 8.’ she agreed, closing the door behind Nathaniel as he left, leaving the full cup of tea still on the table.

         Laying Flowers on a Grave


‘I miss you, brother.’

         No other voices were heard but than that one. The afternoon hanging in a still silence, the air crisp and cold, the cars just distant buzz in the background like faraway flies. It was a young male voice, not yet broken and so a sweet soprano, thick with emotion and unshed tears.

         ‘I miss you everyday, I wish you’d come back, brother.’

         There was a soft sigh then that formed white clouds in the air, followed by a faint rustle of movement and the scent of lilies as they were laid carefully and lovingly on the ground.

         ‘Why did it have to be you, brother? Does God hate us that much?’

         A quiet sob spilled from his lips, diamond tears splashing down onto the flowers silently as his young shoulders shook with ragged cries. Shaggy white blond hair fell over his pale, tear streaked face as he leant forward, resting mitten-clad hands on the floor for support as he continued to cry by himself, no one passing by to see him and comfort him. The alley was empty, blocked off by security tape but no one was there to make sure people kept away. The thick curtain of hair obscured his gaze but he did not notice, such a thing not mattering now. Nothing mattered.

         ‘Michael,’ he cried, the name broken by sobs, ‘why? Why did it have to be you, brother?’

         Thick glasses that were far too large for his small face sat on his nose, slipping down unheeded. Eventually they fell with his tears, the sunlight catching the gold frames as they span through the air, landing with a gentle clatter. He did not notice this either, still crying.

         ‘He is up with the angels now.’ A voice said from the shadows.

         Not alone after all, someone watched, moved to speak and reveal their presence now.

         The young boy hurriedly scrambled to his feet, dashing the tears from his innocent eyes, blinking as he sought out the source of the voice. Large brown doe eyes gave him a look of such purity, such innocence, slightly red from crying now but that only added to his virtue. ‘Hello?’ he called softly as he glanced around the shadows furtively, still seeking out the other, the lilies and his glasses forgotten where they lay at his feet. The world was blurred in his eyes though, the shadows merging together and forming monsters in his mind that danced across his vision.

         ‘Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you.’ A soothing voice, spoken calmly yet the owner still not revealed.
         ‘Who are you?’ he asked.
         ‘My name is not important. You are Simon White, are you not? Michael’s younger brother?’
         ‘Yes, how do you know?’
         There was a soft sound of laughter at his comment, immediately covered up smoothly with a cough. ‘My dear, your name is all over the papers and this is where Michael died, plus you just called out his name, it was not hard to guess.’
         ‘Oh.’ Simon said quietly, relaxing now. Such callow innocence.
         ‘Laying flowers on the grave?’
         ‘Well, we can’t bury him yet so I lay them here.’ There were already a large pile of flowers, no roses of any colour though, the air heady with their scents. Slowly Simon knelt down again, fumbling around for his glasses, only just realising he was not wearing them.

         ‘Here.’ The voice said, handing the frames to Simon as they crouched beside them. Simon jumped slightly, surprised at how silently and quickly the other had come over.
         ‘Thank you.’ he replied, taking the glasses off the other and slipping them on, looking up to where the other had just been, surprised to only see his breath misting in the air into a shadowy figure. ‘Thank you…’ he whispered to the dissipating clouds, a faint fragrance of spices mixing in with the flowers.