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02/20/2023 05:07 PM
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𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛
There was just something about it, the smell of blood. Tangy, almost…sweet. Mixed with the scent of freshly disturbed soil, it almost took on an aphrodisiac quality. But then suddenly, something broke through the sweet haze. Footsteps. Too heavy to be any sort of animal which meant…
"Sh*t." He leapt to his feet, brushing his hands clean on his jeans. He glanced down at the poor fool at his feet, only haphazardly buried, and shook his head. It would have to do. Couldn't risk getting caught. __________ Out of everything, it was the strangest sense of deja vü that hit Patrick as he and Ricky walked up to the yellow tape. He'd been out of the field for nearly a year but it felt like he'd hardly been gone. The detective in charge of the scene was one they'd met before and internally, Patrick braced himself for the questions he just knew he'd be fielding. "Ricky," the detective said, extending his hand. "Nice to see you again. Wish it was under better circumstances but you know how sh*t goes. And…" His eyes traveled over Ricky's shoulder and his gaze noticeably softened. "Patrick. Wasn't expecting to see you. How are you…um, how are you doing?" How are you doing? What a loaded f***ing question. In truth, he was doing terrible. Drinking in excess, laying in his childrens' bedroom crying himself to sleep over his slaughtered family, wishing he'd been home so he could've saved them or at the very least, gone with them. "I'm…fine," Patrick said. He gave the detective a look that told him not to push things further and thankfully, the detective seemed to take notice. "Anyway, victim is 38 year old Michael Wegovy. Same MO as all your other ones. Only difference is this guy doesn't seem to be as low-risk as your first three. No wife or kids but he had a couple of other close family members we've notified. They should be down at the station for you guys to talk to." "Yeah, I think Erica and Joe are handling that," Patrick said. "Now are you gonna show us the f***ing body or do we plan on standing here all day?" The detective barely seemed to hide his bewildered expression. "Uh…yeah. Right this way." Eyes, eyes, eyes. It seemed like every f***ing pair of eyes on scene was fixed on Patrick as he followed Ricky and the detective. He wasn't surprised. His family's murder had turned this town on its head. Murder wasn't a new concept for Buffalo, not even close. But an entire family slaughtered in their home? It was unimaginable. People whispered that it they'd never imagined something like that could happen, that it was their worst nightmare. And Patrick was living it. "Well, here you go," the detective said. It was spoken with the air of a waiter handing you a plate of food. "We've already gone over the entire crime scene so take whatever you need." "I still can't figure out how he manages to cut the ribs so cleanly," Ricky said, crouching down next to the gravesite. With a gloved hand, he reached out to touch the exposed tip of one of the victim's ribs. "And what he does with the f***ing heart." "Probably eats it," Patrick said. Ricky looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Patrick simply shrugged. "Just saying. This world is full of f***ed up people. As for the ribs, I'd say some sort of saw." "Like a bone saw? How would you even get one of those?" "You can buy just about anything on the internet," Patrick said. "Hell, I bet I could go to Amazon right now and order a medical grade bone saw, the kind surgeons use? Have it on my doorstep by Tuesday." "Right…" Ricky eyed Patrick strangely as he got back to his feet. "I'll have Spencer look into that, see if he can't dig up any leads. In the meantime…you stay off Amazon, holy sh*t." For the first in what seemed like forever, the smallest hint of a smile flickered across Patrick's face. But he wasn't looking at Ricky. He was looking at the cavernous hole in Michael Wegovy's chest, where his heart used to lay. "Guess there's more than one way to lose your f***ing heart."
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02/05/2023 08:37 PM
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𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎
 The sound of leaves crunching underfoot was the only thing that broke the silence. But it was fall in New England, this sound was nothing new. But if you listened a little more closely, you might hear the unmistakable sound of something being…dragged. There were muffled sounds of panic, of begging, but that would stop soon. Soon all would be silent. __________ "You look tired, Patrick," Andrew observed. He sat a streaming mug of coffee in front of Patrick, who only glared at him in response. Hands were raised defensively. "I'm just saying. How much sleep did you get last night?" "Not enough," Patrick answered gruffly. He glanced down at his hands, cracking his knuckles. The skin there was raw and cracked and it stung a bit as it was stretched. "Nightmares." Andrew gave him a sympathetic look but luckily Patrick was spared any more niceties by the arrival of Erica Peters, current unit chief. "Sorry I'm a little late guys, but um, unfortunately I have a pretty good reason." Like a hail of buckshot, a gallery of pictures appeared on the screen over her shoulder. "Buffalo PD discovered another body last night, in the Reinstein Woods Nature Preserve. Same MO as all the others." "Looks like he didn't bother to hide this one as well," Andrew pointed out. "You think he's devolving?" "Maybe he got spooked," Patrick said. Unsurprisingly, all attention pivoted to him. He ignored them, gesturing to the screen. "You can tell he was trying to bury the body. Just didn't get very far. Who found the body?" "Early morning jogger," Erica answered. "Said he was going for a quick run before work, heard some noises in the woods. Found the body…half buried. Didn't manage to get a good look at the unsub though, unfortunately. But I'm gonna send you out to look at the scene, Patrick." This caught Patrick's attention immediately, his hackles raising. Why would she– "We need a fresh set of eyes, see if you can't find something we're missing. Take Ricky with you. He can fill you in." There was the sound of chair legs scrapping the floor, which was inevitably Ricky getting to his feet. "Wait, now?" Patrick asked. This time it was his turn to be on the receiving end of a glare. "Yes, now," she repeated. "This is our fifth body, we don't have time to waste. While you two are out at the crime scene, Spencer, I want you to handle the media. This sh*t is getting majorly out of hand. Joe and I will talk to the victim's family." It was almost funny to Patrick how easily his body slipped back into this routine but he supposed that was a fault of the familiarity. Erica's nod of dismissal was enough to put him into autopilot mode. Phone, badge, gun. Phone, badge, gun. One foot in front of the other. Need to let Kate know he'd be late. Need to let Kate know– He stopped in his tracks. Kate. "Earth to Patrick?" A blur of flesh in front of his face. Patrick forced himself back to reality and found Ricky standing in front of him, both of them standing near the rear bumper of an SUV. His friend had a concerned look on his face, which made Patrick's stomach burn. "Are you sure you're okay to do this?" Ricky asked. "You know you could always tell Erica–" "I'm fine," Patrick interrupted. There was an edge to his voice, one that Ricky seemed to pick up on immediately. "Let's just go and get this sh*t over with."
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02/05/2023 08:34 PM
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𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘
"I know you're in there, Pat! Open the door!" For a second, I considered ignoring him. What the hell was he going to do, anyway? Kick down the door? I'd press charges for destruction of property and we both knew he wouldn't risk going to jail. But in the end, I pushed to my feet and stalked to the door, opening it to reveal an all-too-familiar face: SSA Andrew Garcia, one of my coworkers from the unit. Once upon a time, he'd been like a brother to me but ever since…that night, when I'd receded from the world, he and everyone else had become blobs in the haze of my periphery. "You've been drinking, Pat," Andrew said. My face settled into a grimace. It was an astute observation but a true one at that. But who wouldn't be, in my place? I'd come home a year ago to find my family slaughtered. "What the hell do you want?" What do you want? What do you want? "And stop calling me Pat." He tried to step past me, into my apartment, but I blocked his path. This was my sanctuary, no one was allowed inside. I didn't give a f*** who they were. "Erica sent me," he said, straightening up from the refusal of entry. He met my eyes and his gaze softened. I looked away, to the spot of dirt on his shoe. "We've got a case. We've had a case. And we're running on fumes, we've got nothing." "And what the f*** do you want me to do about it?" "We really think you could break it," he pressed. "I know you're been watching the damn news, Pat…rick. Four men. Dead. We've got four f***ing dead bodies and nothing to show for it. We need you back. We need your help." I took a deep breath. This would happen sooner or later. "I'll think about it," I finally said, and then I slammed the door in his face.
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02/05/2023 08:28 PM
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𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎
Call out the lies, blow the storm away... F***, she was gonna be pissed. I promised I'd be home in time for dinner tonight but something came up at the office. "Like always," she'd chide, frustration creeping up her neck like a persistent rash. This always made me a little irritated. She knew what she was getting into, marrying an FBI agent. Long days at the office, long weekends away from home. But that never stopped her. Last time I'd broken a promise, there had been a fight. Voices raised, tempers flared, the whole nine yards. She'd threatened to take the kids and leave if I broke another promise, which was exactly what I'd thought had happened when I was greeted by silence when I walked through the front door. "Kate?" I called out. The silence was...unnerving. Where was the chatter of the kids, the white noise of whatever was playing on the television? Her car was in the driveway, so I knew they were home. Something...wasn't right. Instinctively, my hand went to my hip, fingers brushing the cold handle of the pistol. I crept around the corner from the foyer to the living room and was instantly met with a familiar metallic scent that made my blood run cold. Blood. So much blood. Where did it all come from? The room started to spin, my entire world tilted off its axis. Gone, gone. They were all gone. Sirens spinning around through my eyelids. The touch of many hands, trying to pull me back down to Earth. The soft murmur of voices, some strange, some familiar. "It's okay," they whispered. "Everything will be okay, Patrick." But how could it be okay? My family was dead. And they'd taken a piece of me with them.
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