Shoot Your Gun by 22-20s

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Police Department - Nash and Westhuizen’s Office
Detective Michael Nash

Pictures of a gunshot victim, evidences and mug shots littered the bulletin board of Detective Michael Nash. He has been staring at it the whole morning in his damp and cramp office. The itch he always get when he’s about to solve a case has been nagging him. He sighed, lit a cigarette and took a sip from his third coffee of the morning. Nash peeked a glance of his reflection on the computer screen in front of him. He noticed a few graying in his dark brown hair and few new additions of the numerous creases that lined his face. It was bound to happen, He thought, Maybe I should retire after this case but I’ll be bored shitless at home. I need a hobby. Maybe fixing up Charlotte or starting up a garage would set me straight… Ya, little grease between the fingers would do me good…

A light knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Ya, come in.” Nash invited.

It was the new captain, Simon, six years the younger with a belly that only could mean 36 doughnuts and 12 cans of beer daily for the past decade. The old captain retired two months ago. Nash was offered the position on numerous occasions long before the old man’s retirement but like before, he declined. His official reasons was that he doesn’t have leadership quality and was simply satisfied by serving the people. Actually, he’s just lazy and hates responsibilities besides the one he has now. Their first option uninterested, the department was left with bowling ball belly Simon.

Simon was holding three folders at hand when he walked in and took a seat in front of Nash’s desk and seriously, you can hear the chair creek under his weight. Asides from taking few mental stabs on Simon, he took chance and guess the contents of each folder.

“Le’ me guess, one folder holds the FBI’s offer and you’ll try to convince me – again – to take it up and you’ll fail – again – to convince me.” The FBI has been on his tail after he found crucial evidence against a snuff video ring, sends him an offer annually. The old man knew better than Simon to simply throw it in the trash bin.

“You’ll then move the discussion to a smaller offer, which is to captain this department and I’ll answer with no thank you – again.” Nash wondered why Simon keeps haggling him to take up his job but he doesn’t really care why. He just wants this queue ball to stop asking the same questions.

“You’ll give up and say ‘you caught a case’ and drop the file on my desk then you’ll proceed back to your office. Com’ on Capt, we played this dance many times before. The tune is getting old.” The Bowling Ball Belly simply stared at Nash, silent and expressionless. He probably got some Botox for the road, the detective jested.

Simon began with a light shake of his head: “I don’t understand you Nash. The chief keeps offering you a promotion, the FBI holding you at high regard..... Single, 52 years old yet to move out from his parents’ house,” Simon shook his head again, “You caught a case.” And just like he predicted, the file dropped, the chair creaked and the door closed.

---

University - The Crime Scene
Officer Richard Harmsworth

The crime scene is an alley between two campus buildings, spacious enough for a vehicle but tight enough for a driver to prefer taking the longer rout around. Here Richard watched as the CSI were busying about, taking up prints, photographing evidence or the lack there of. Asides from a small pool of colligating blood, there is nothing that would suggest foul play.

Two forensics were in the middle of lifting the body up to be taken to the lab for further examination. There was a tape outline where the victim used to be. “..... moved here either to attempt to hide the body or hide the the original scene of the crime.” He heard one of them say in passing. He tried to ask them something but Sam, he’s partner, called him out.

“Willy, the detective just arrived and he would like to talk to the first responders. That would be us.”

Sam is a skanky fellow with blonde hair, green eyes and a homely face. He contrasted Richard’s darker hues. His hair being jet black, brown eyes complimented by expressive eyebrows. One can say Richard has a friendly but professional face, which suits him quiet well. He got his nickname during the early days when he joined the force. His classmates deemed him to have a pretty face, so instead of the usual Dick he became known as Willy.

Richard followed his partner out of the alley. There was a crowd of on-lookers gathering. His colleagues were trying to keep them behind the police line and to disperse but that didn’t phased them a bit.

“I heard she was killed by a gunshot wound in the head!”, “No, no, no, according to my friend, her body was found brutally mutilated! There was like blood everywhere”, “Red Rum! Red Rum! Red Rum!”, “Shut up, I want to hear what the officers are saying!”, “Do you think, this’ one of those serial killer kinda cases? I mean Ted Buddy killed college girls right?”, “Ooooh, blood chilling, I wonder if she was stab, shot or smothered to death.”, “Jesus Henry, why would you want to know that?”

The crowd buzzed, the scene was barely an hour old and the rumors are already starting to spread. It’s true when they say, bad news have wings. They were approaching a patrol vehicle where the detective was waiting. He’s an old man and doesn’t look imposing at all. He was irritated by the crowd and flicked his cigarette towards them. One of them cursed but he didn’t paid attention.

“Detective Nash. You’re the first responders?”

“Yes Sir, we were just a couple of blocks away when dispatch radioed in. So the scene is relatively untampered when forensic arrived.” Sam replied.

“Name and Badge numbers?”

“Officer Sam Peter, 6-0-4-75, 6th Unit.”

“Officer Richard Harmsworth, 22-20-5, 6th Unit.”

“Under the guns, huh” The detective commented and scribbled their information on his notepad. ‘Under the guns’ is a reference to Sam and Rick’s unit number. The 6th unit is known to meddle with other department’s jurisdiction. Rick couldn’t blame the detective. The unit’s higher-ups simply enjoy a pissing contest. “Okay, walk me through, you know the drill”, Nash proceeded.

“Yes Sir. Dispatched radioed in at 6:40am. We arrive at the scene at 6:44am and met up with the person in question, a janitor named Herman Reese. As by standard procedure, I checked the victim’s pulse and found none and called it in. We then began securing the scene. I asked my partner to check the vicinity for any possible suspects while I stay behind. There was no one at hand.”

As the detective wrote Richards statement down, he routinely checked his watched. At one point he cursed under his breath. “Good work officer, I would need you and your partner’s assistance. My partner is MIA and the area is too large for me to cover. Grab a pen’n’paper and asked around if they noticed something.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me,” Nash headed towards the crime scene, leaving the two officers perplexed. “We’ll be here the whole day so you better get your ass moving if you want to get home for dinner!”

Shannon Jacqueline Balore & Deborah Lillian Termellio.

Ahhh... Another secret meeting.

Shannon thought to herself in bliss as she sat on the couch with her one love, Deborah. They both were in Shannon's dorm room, since she got rid of her annoying room mate for a little while, watching some movies that she had in her room. The movie they're watching right now was an old time favorite, Disney's The Lion King. Easily the best animated movie to ever come out of that jew-hating company! The moment was all snug, just the way Shannon loved it. They were watching the finale, when Simba defeats Scar.

Deborah loved the moment as well. She was quick to get peck Shannon on the cheeks. The affectionate display was unexpected... but appreciated. This was because Deborah knew she could do stuff like this in places like Shannon's dorm room, and not in front of the track team. However, the moment came to a close when Deborah's cell phone buzzed, receiving a text from a friend. "Let me get that, hun..." She softly said.

OMG, OMG, deebs, there's a murder cene outside com quik

Umm... To say the least, this text message prompted a bit of worry. "What...?" She asked herself. Her friend's spelling was vague... But Deborah understood every bit of this. That really ruined the mood that she had. "Um... Shannon... Someone's dead on camp-"

"What?" Shannon replied at lightning fast speeds. Nearly jumping off the sofa. The romantic moment was completely evaporated by this revelation.

"... I don't know... I just got a text saying this." Deborah was extremely awkward right now. She was about to start biting her fingers. There was one thing on her mind that she was unsure of, so she just blurted it out, "I wanna go check it out. Not do anything stupid... Just look."

"C'mon, then, we'll go to-" Shannon was cut off by Deborah.

"Wait, no!" Deborah wasn't going to be seen walking out of Shannon's dorm room holding hands. There were already rumors around the university about their relationship. She didn't want to spend too much time around this girl and support those claims. "I can go by myself. Just wait here for a moment or two." She rushed out the room again.

This left Shannon soooo hurt inside. She laid down on the couch, belly in the air, playing with her thumbs as Deborah left. She 'had' to wait a few minutes so it doesn't look like she was leaving with Deborah. She rolled her eyes. It was almost like the damn girl was ashamed of her! Either way, Shannon was going to get dressed up.

It wasn't long before the two girls arrived at the crime scene with their own reactions.

"Oh my god..." Deborah said to herself as she stepped into the crowd, she was scared pissless, hoping she wouldn't be walking into something that would haunt her dreams for ages. Fortunately, once she pierced through the crowd, they had already cleaned up the mess and was carting the body away. She let out a sigh of relief because she wouldn't have to see a dead body. But another brand of fear crept up her spine after realizing that there may be a serial killer here. In the school? Oh god, what if she, or Shannon is next? Wait, wait, wait, she's being paranoid. Deborah took some time to consider that this could be an isolated incident, and they're all safe. Yes... Maybe this girl has been sleeping around with the wrong guy, and this is retaliation? The more Deborah tried to convince herself otherwise, the more grave the scene got.

Hm. Police aren't carting away a suspect... I believe we may have a murder mystery on campus. Shannon put her hand on her chin, holding her jawline. Looking quite intently. Someone killed this girl, and are still on the loose. There's detectives. While this could be a one-time thing, there's still a dead body out there, and there's a murderer. Shannon felt like she should play the role of the detective in this mystery. While there were actual detectives she who's toes she would prefer not to step on, she felt like she could get information without a big foreboding officer of the law looming over with the threat of jail time. To get started: there were so many questions here. Who was the dead girl? How was she killed? Who killed her??? Of course, that's what she was going to find out.

Reed ran his fingers through the matted mess of hair that sat atop his head. He made a small pissed off noise, his body hunching over to get a closer view of the computer screen that demanded his immediate attention. His emerald eyes flicking quickly up to the top left hand corner of his screen before flicking back to the centre of the screen to watch his character. He hated and loved MOBA’s all at the same time. He hated the community that was filled with casual players that fucked up his win loss ratio and idiots that wouldn’t know their keyboard from their elbow. He gave out a soft low growl, his fingers moving furiously over his keyboard. His other hand threw his mouse to the side as the taunting voice of the announcer whispered in his head.

“Defeat”

Reed swore loudly, glad he lived alone on the campus else his gaming endeavours would more than likely cause his roommate no end of sleepless nights. He pushed away from his desk and spun on his desk chair, leaning into the tall leather back of the seat. His brilliant green eyes flicked around the room covered in game collectables, posters and all other nerdy money sinks that he had picked up. He pulled his glasses off, holding them by one of their arms and he began to rub his eyes with his free hand “fucking…idiots….” He growled again before getting up and flicking the lights on. He squinted slightly and walked to his wardrobe; setting out a black shirt, black pants and a red tie. He went into his bathroom and had a quick shower before getting dressed, the red tie hanging loose around his collar. He sighed gently, his fingers finding his phone and pushing it into his pocket. He tied up his bright red converse. He stepped out of his room and furrowed his eyebrows, people were bustling about shouting and whispering in their groups.

“RED RUM!” someone shouted.

Reed looked at his phone, messages flooding through his feed. Someone had been murdered. Reed shrugged slowly, it wasn’t someone he knew. He walked through the crowds, preparing to get his errands in order before concerning himself with this new situation that had arisen.

Beep beep beep thunk.

Isaac's hand rested on the alarm clock, his eyes slowly opened and lazily looked around his neat and tidy room. It was a bit small, but it sported all the things he needed such as a sleek brown desk for his studying and researching on his laptop, to his closet which had all of his jackets, his wardrobe, and his full length mirror which was across the room of his queen sized bed. Isaac dragged himself out of bed, and rubbed his eyes as he walked in his underwear to the bathroom in which he did his daily routine of showering, brushing his teeth, and making sure his hair was somewhat tousled with the assistance of some hair spray. He then made the tough decision of whether to go for a plain colour palette of a nice fitting white t-shirt and black shorts with some tan sandals, or the navy blue muscle shirt with black trimmings, straight legged black jeans with a faded wash, and some tan slim shoes. He looked at the two options that were both spread on his bed, a hand to his mouth in thought as he looked at the two options before finally choosing the first option.

After getting changed he headed to the kitchen and got a healthy breakfast; having a bowl of Kellogs special K cereal and a side of fruit salad. He lazily sat down in his favourite recliner chair as he ate, turning on the tv to the news. He always liked to guess what'd be on the news, maybe a campaign for LGBT rights for marriage, or maybe more discussions about Obamacare or something of the matter, but never would he have guessed the murder of a local woman right at his own neighbourhood. His gaze was fixed onto the screen as he continued working on his cereal, the news reporter said the police were on the scene, and are trying to get this situation solved as quickly as possible. The news reporter continued on, but Isaac turned off the tv as he had just finished his breakfast. Got his sandals on and headed out of the small apartment. As much as he wanted to see the crime scene, he had to go to his classes first.

When Isaac arrived at the university, the tension, the quick chatting between people, it was very apparent that everyone was talking about this murder mystery. It almost gave a more interesting aspect to things...it was like CSI. Some crazy murder going on and people getting down to the bottom of it. He could be one of those people! A faint smile came onto his face. The idea definitely appealed to him. He walked to his first class of the day, being chemistry. Throughout the whole lecture Isaac's thoughts were about the mystery. He couldn't wait for his classes to be done.

Dan Evary laid back in the fields outside of town. He often did this, as it was far away from the crowds and the people. His friend was also there, and they were talking. Talking about what? Anything that came to mind, really. He liked having long conversations about anything with friends and other close people he trusted, it was calming and relieved his nerves. When they were talking, his friend got a call on his phone. He answered it and responded to the person's questions.

"I have to go, bye Dan." he said finally as he put away his phone and began getting up.

"Bye." he said simply, nothing else needed to be said. As his friend left, he packed up his things and headed back to town, as well. He caught a bus and sat on it, when he got a text on his phone. He was sitting at the back of the bus where no one else was sitting. "Murdered girl found outside of Academy." the text read, surprising Dan. He got off at the crime scene instead of his apartment.

When he saw it, his reaction was shock and surprise. To think someone had been murdered at the Academy... unthinkable, but it was true. He hoped to play a role in helping out, he'd been told by his friends that he was observant, and he hoped that would come true.

Midday light peered through the curtains of Lily's single dorm room. Lily's diagnosed insomnia was reason enough for her to score a 'medical single' in one of the University's shittiest residence halls. With a groan, Lily wrestled with her sheets in frustration, a killer hangover was threatening to push her brains out through her ears. Thankfully, senior-level art classes were always later in the day... it was almost like they knew that those particular students spent their nights indulging in drugs and alcohol to find inspiration.

After throwing her sheets to the side, Lily sat up in the bed and stared across the room, sleepy-eyed. The canvas that sat across from her brandished new artwork, streaks of black and red charcoal were dashed all across it in a fearful manner. Lily squinted at it and rubbed her eyes, she really didn't remember creating that piece... although this wouldn't be the first time she woke up and couldn't recall what happened the night before. Lily shrugged her shoulders and hopped out of bed, pulling a Muse t-shirt over her mess of multicolored hair. With the addition of electric blue skinny jeans, a black leather jacket, black combat boots, and a refresh on the eyeliner and dark lipstick, Lily was ready to head out for the day.

Lily headed to her usual afternoon stomping grounds, the Urban Grind Cafe. The cafe was more abuzz then usual as Lily tried to make her way to the counter to order. The barista immediately recognized her, and waved her over to the counter "The usual chai tea, right?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am" Lily replied, it was her usual hangover cure, that and something sugary sweet. The barista returned with the tea and charged her for that plus one pastry, "Have you heard about the murder?" she whispered over the register and Lily's eyes went wide. "What? Murder? Is that what everyone is talking about?" Lily asked in a rush as she opened the pastry counter and plucked out a cinnamon chip scone. The barista told her of the location of the scene and Lily rushed out of the cafe, chai tea and scone in hand, in hopes of catching a glimpse. Moments of terror and tragedy often made great muses for an artist, and Lily didn't want to miss out on something this crazy.

Pale sunlight leaked through the curtains just illuminating the tiny dorm. Articles of clothing were randomly strewn about the room, most on the ground some in weird places like on top of the lamp. All she was wearing was her undergarments which had miraculously stayed on. It was just about time Lisa's mental clock woke her up. Her hand felt around the nightstand until she found her glasses. The room was familiar because most of the dorms has a similar layout, but the furnishings were all new. There was a lot more pink than she was used to. Lisa was crashing at a friend's dorm since she was too lazy to walk back to her's last night. Although her friend wasn't there, she probably had a class or something. A shame they couldn't have breakfast together.

After getting dressed Lisa dragging her feet back to her place, sleepiness still in her eyes. Apparently she left her computer and lamp on all night, she can see her MMO character idling in the lobby. Good thing she wasn't in a PVP zone. A quick shower and change of clothes washed the drowsiness away and gave her an appetite. On the way to breakfast she found a huge crowd had formed. There were police all over the place, and even some news reporters. She could hear people gossiping about murder and serial killers, which sounded ridiculous to her. From the back of the crowd she couldn't see much, she could just make out the police tape and a chalk outline. About time something interesting happened around here she thought. It was surprising that something like this could happen here, but not that surprising.

There was no way she was getting any information from the cops or the over-imaginative crowd, thank goodness for the internet. She had to browse through a couple sites before finding out the victim was... her. Lisa tried to call her phone but to no avail. It was weird. There was no tears or sadness. It was just so sudden. There was only numbness. Suddenly she lost her appetite.

Mrrrr

Mrrrrrrrr

A cellphone vibrated, reverberating off the pillow that currently smothered it, and filled the ears of a sleeping person with a constant hum of energy and excitement. Texts came in like bullets, rapidly filling up the mound of blankets' screen without haste, and after the fifteenth tone the mound finally shifted. Chris sat up slowly, a heavy yawn escaping her lips as a slender hand reached down under the pillow and pulled out the rather large smart phone, annoyance making her eyebrow twitch. The screen glowed and buzzed with a constant rhythm, and repeated words filled the tired eyes of Chris. "A girl was murdered" was a constant phrase, and with each text Chris slowly woke up more and more, curiosity peaking in her mind. A murder? That can't possibly be real. Finally awake enough to get ready for the day, she rose from the bed, shivering as chilled dorm air suddenly met her bare skin. Glancing down, Chris realized she was just wearing a pair of (nerdy) boxers, no more, no less. She must have left the party last night naked, seeing as she was stripped down to her underwear and the outfit she had worn was no where to be found on the messy floor beneath her feet.

"Oh well." She whispered carelessly, staggering over to the bathroom door despite her mind's cries of protest. Once inside the tiled room she collapsed onto the toilet seat-cover, head lurching down into her hands as she attempted to wrap her mind around the idea of a murder happening at a place like this. It just didn't seem... Real. But, then again, after such an intense party nothing did. The faint aching of a hangover filled her head and joints, and the idea of going back to bed came and went as she grew more and more curious over the supposed murder.

'Maybe I'll go check out the crime scene... If there is one.'

With that thought in mind she rose up again, turning towards the mirror above the porcelain sink. Lines of unwashed makeup smothered her cheeks and eyes, and a particularly bright lipstick stain was prominent on her neck. Her black hair was wild and greasy, and the spots on her face without makeup were red with blemishes and break outs. Disgust filled her eyes, making her lips part in a grimace as she glanced away and sighed. Much work was needed today. With a final sigh and glance at her messy reflection she turned the handles until steaming water poured from the faucet. She scrubbed the makeup off fiercely with a mixture of suds and some sort of cream, and rinsed, and repeated until she was left with a red, blank slate. After finishing up with her face she quickly jumped into the showered and washed the rest of her body, then returned to stand in front of the mirror, starting today's makeup art.

Once her face was painted to be somewhat masculine and she looked like a healthy human being again, Chris bound her breasts and changed, then gathered up materials for the day (which included her phone, backup makeup, a sketchbook, and some pastels). Everything was eventually packed into a plain tote bag, and once it was filled she turned and exited the messy dorm, entering the sun-lit hall of the complex. People poured through the hall, which was rather odd since most of the time it was dead quiet thanks to all the tired students or classes, and Chris watched the separated mass of bodies with curiosity, listening intently to the whispers that filled the air.

murder

dead a girl is dead

you can see blood

redrumredrum

Chris felt a smirk grace her face, finding that the rumors sounded like something out of a horror movie. After another moment of watching she finally stepped into the hall, moving through the plush-carpeted corridor quickly, mind set on the door at the very end of the way. Her fingers tapped across the large screen of her phone as she walked, typing a quick message to her good friend, Lily:

"Hey L hear about the murder? Im heading to the scene now i think"

She sent the text off without proof reading and shoved the phone back into her tote, pushing through the glass doors and whining as sunlight filled her gaze and blinded her momentarily, head screaming in protest. She blinked once, twice, then glanced across the green hills and scattered buildings of the university campus, instantly catching red and blue lights out of the corner of her eye. A group seemed to have gathered around the scene already, and Chris noted that it was centered around an alley between two of the campus buildings. With a final glance about she turned and headed towards the crime scene, curiosity and fear and excitement leading her forward while her face remained as empty and sweet as it normally did.

Cooper Harley, unlike several other people in this town, wasn't woken up by the phone call, because he had yet to go to bed.

"I know it's around here somewhere," he muttered, tossing aside yet another couch cushion in the cluttered living room. It be wrong to say he had torn the place apart looking for what he had lost, because the house was already a disaster zone. If the state governor had happened to pass by and peek in a window, His Excellency's first impulse may have been to mobilize the national guard and call FEMA- the place was really that bad. Rather, what Cooper Harley was doing was rearranging the mess slightly. When the distinct sound of his expensive cellphone reverberated through the living room, he groaned and ground his decaying teeth. "Jesus Christ," he said. The words hung in the air, unsure of whether they were a prayer or simply blasphemy, as the mobile chirped again.

"For fuck's sake, I can never find anything," he complained as he picked up the same couch cushion, expecting to miraculously discover his cellphone hiding underneath it. No such luck- just a lone sock, an empty pizza box, some drained AA batteries, and a broken dog collar decorated the nice hardwood floor beneath the errant cushion. Did he own a dog? He couldn't remember. Probably not.

The phone stopped ringing, going to voicemail, and silence filled the living room of the Queen Anne. A scant second later the ringing began anew.

"Piss!" Cooper Harley muttered, trying to force his matted hair back into the brown rubber band that halfheartedly and ineffectively restrained it. He looked around the cluttered room, trying to concentrate on the chirping ringtone. Damn this mess. Maybe he should clean up his house- or better yet, hire someone else to do it.

His eyes, or maybe his ears, lit on an empty, inside-out bag of potato chips. Somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, his phone had worked its way inside that bag. He upended it, caught the ringing, vibrating mobile in his hand as it fell out of the bag. Clearing his throat, he pushed the little green button and held it up to his ear.

"Cooper Harley speaking," he said in as polite of a tone as he could manage. He listened, still picking through the wreckage in search of the first thing that had gone missing. "A murder, huh? In this little town? How about that," he said tonelessly, tossing aside an old magazine and a flowerpot. Did he own any flowers? He couldn't remember. Probably not.

"Go down to the crime scene? Jesus Christ, dude, why the actual fuck would I want to do that? I mean, c'mon, let's just march up to some cops with a neon sign that says 'Hello, I am a drug dealer hanging out near the scene of a homicide, we cool?'" Harley lay down on his belly, checked underneath the coffee table. His horrid teeth broke in a wide smile. There it was. "No, dude, I'm staying right the hell where I am, here in the comfort of my own home. Don't call me unless it's important. Yeah. Bye." Hanging up, he lightly tossed the phone in a more or less random direction. The fact that this rigamarole would be repeated the next time he received a call did not occur to him. But ti didn't matter.

He had found his pipe.

Leaning back on the couch, he pulled a baggie from the pocket of his designer jeans. With the eye of a true connoisseur, he selected one of the whitish crystals inside, dropped it into the scarred bowl of the glass pipe, smiling in anticipation. The grin turned into a frown as he patted his pockets again, then looked around the trashed living room.

"Where the hell is my lighter?"

Terra had been at the dojo. To be more precise she was sparring. It was a tough match. After a good five minutes of sparring, it was decided that Terra had won. She picked up her towel and wiped the sweat from her face. She took a swig from her water bottle and grabbed her duffel bag. She swung it on her shoulder and walked over to the changing room. Terra changed out of her martial-arts uniform and into the clothes she he prepared. It wasn't an exciting outfit, just her usual outfit, consisting of a tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. Terra walked to her dorm room. It wasn't very far away. She took a shower, before checking the texts she had gotten. There was one about a... Murder. That was unusual. Terra wondered if it was BS but decided that it wouldn't hurt to check it out. She put her outfit back on and braided her still wet hair in a single braid down her back. She walked out of her dorm room and headed to what she was told was the crime scene. And it was a crime scene.

University - The Crime Scene
Detective Michael Nash

Detective Nash entered the alley where the body was found. Hovering over the victim outline was an elderly man sipping coffee, cloth from chest to toe in standard white forensic jump suits. His hair was gray but Nash remembers how it used to be pitched black. The man was Anthony Smith. They started about the same time in the force and, unlike Nash, accepted the promotion as Chief Forensic Officer. His higher pay grade didn’t drive a wedge between them.

“What’s the preliminary Tony?” Nash asked once he was beside him.

“Asides from the body, nada. The scene is pretty damn clean considering the location. Usable finger prints? Null. Murder weapon? Nix. Not even a trail, blood or otherwise, leading to the crime scene. Even the janitor is pretty damn clueless, seen and heard nothing.”

“Hmff… Anything on the body? Do we have an estimated time of death?”

“No injuries anywhere on her body asides from the stab wound on her gut, just above the belly button, it went deep enough to cut her spine, but it was inflicted post mortem hence the little pool of blood. Such injuries would normally leave you paralyze and bleeding profusely which leads me to conclude that she was killed somewhere else and was dumped here.

Other details my team and I noticed is that her hair was recently bleached and some dye was applied but whoever applied it stopped half way. She was dressed but it look like the murderer put them on her when she was already dead. You also have to consider that the estimated time of death was two days ago.

It’s like the murderer played Barbie and suddenly decided she wasn’t the right doll.”

“Fishy...”

“Anyways Mike, if you want to get more details, you have to wait for the lab and autopsy report. I’m not confident we’ll find anything useful here even if we dusted ‘till kingdom come.”

“Thanks Tony and by the way, may I ask if that’s black?” Nash pointed at the coffee Anthony has been drinking.

“Creamy white, my friend.” A grin appeared on the face of the CFO. “Got it from a shop just outside of campus. The place was jammed with co-eds. Maybe some of them will take an interest on the case, if you know what I mean.” Tony then flashed his eyebrows.

“You got to be kidding me right? Young, wild and free ain’t exactly my type.” Nash lit a cigarette and waved Anthony goodbye, “I’ll see ya at the department. I still have to figure who the vic is and maybe one of these college dim-wits would know her name.”

---

Lily rushed to campus in hopes of catching a glimpse of the murder investigation action going on. Her head still pounded from last night’s shenanigans, so she shielded her eyes from the sun. A faint vibration tickled her right hip and she struggled to juggle her tea and scone into her left hand to fetch the cellphone.

"Hey L hear about the murder? Im heading to the scene now i think" the text message read.

“Yeah, I’m omw now, hangover cure in hand. C ya soon!” Lily sent back, ignoring any typos and slang.

Amidst texting, someone bumped into Lily, causing hot tea to splash on the skin that her cut-off Muse tee exposed. Lily forced the phone back into her tiny skinny-jeans pocket and brushed the steamy liquid off of her chest. Moments later, she arrived at the taped off crime scene. Thankfully, she looked scary enough that people didn’t argue or fight back when she shoved her way to the front lines to get a good view.

With her hands on the caution tape, Lily leaned forward and squinted in order to get a better picture of the scene. There were some men, probably investigators, surrounding who she assumed was the victim. It looked like it could have been Maria Todd, but something about her hair and clothing was off. Lily and Maria weren’t close friends or anything, but they had partied together on occasion. Lily also sold Maria pot on more than one occasion, if this victim was Maria, she was sad to see such a good customer go. Lily turned and scanned the crowd, looking for Chris to gossip with.

Reed's phone buzzed incessantly. He shook his head as with each errand completed, the messages would not stop. He eventually had to check his to do list to mark off his errands. He sat in a small cafe, the scent of his black coffee filling his nose. He pulled out his tablet and looked at the to do list, checking off assignment hand ins and other miscellaneous items. He took a long drink of the black wake up that was slowly cooling in his hand before opening up the app for his clan chat. He smiled slightly as people were actively using the forums and the chat function he had set up. Then a message filtered through the chat. It's letters blood red and the username just filled in with a blank space.

" That Blonde Bitch deserved it "

Reed quickly deleted the message and furrowed his eyebrows. That couldn't be...meaning...no. Reed quickly pulled up the one user that he knew was on campus.

"Lisa...did you see that message? - Reed"

It was like ripping off a band-aid really fast. The sting lasted only a second, all that was left was raw. Why. Why Mari of all people? It didn't make any sense. She was such a girl scout. Never hung out with the wrong crowd, went to church every Sunday, she was even in the choir. She hardly ever drank, Lisa had only seen Mari drunk once. The other weird thing was her hair, it looked like she didn't finish dying it. Either she was in the middle of dying her hair or the killer did it.

Sure Mari was a little up tight, but she wasn't the type to have enemies. The killer was probably someone she didn't really know. That would make it harder to connect the killer to the victim. But that means it could be almost anybody. Ugh. Lisa was getting frustrated and mad, and she never got frustrated. She needed to get out of here, away from these annoying gossiping pigeons. On her way to the cafe she got a message from Reed, something about a message. "no, wut message?" she replied before scrolling through the chat. Now she was really pissed. She would punch this guy's face if she could.

"Why the hell do you keep calling me? Haven't you seen The Wire?" Cooper screamed into his phone. "Cops, if you're listening, I don't know who the hell this dork is, alright? And I sure as hell don't know Maria Todd! Never met her! Don't know what she looks like! Didn't sell her a teenth last night!" In a near panic, Cooper threw the phone onto his unmade bed, before snatching it back up and holding it to his ear. "Thanks for calling! Bye!"

Hanging up, Harley took a deep breath and looked around the upstairs bedroom, trying to work out his next move, if there was a next move. Whoever that guy who had called had told him that everyone was saying Maria Todd had been murdered to death. A lot of rumors and hearsay, but enough to make Cooper Harley incredibly paranoid. Not that his substance abuse problem was helping with the paranoia, but who's keeping track.

"People are dying. I've gotta protect myself," he said as he turned over his mattress. He was pretty sure it was still down there, though in this house it was hard to tell. Did he even own a gun? He couldn't remember. Probably not.

Oh, there was his gun. Cooper grinned, brushing aside a lock of his unruly hair as he picked up the AMT Backup and slammed home a magazine. Six rounds of .380. He'd be fine now if somebody decided he was next on the list. "I feel safer already," he said to himself as he slipped the pistol into his waistband right behind his belt buckle. He stretched, decided to light up again. A little crystal would take the edge off.

Dan stepped forward, and saw the dead person was Maria Todd, a woman he had never met, and only seen once or twice. He didn't know if he'd be able to do much for this crime, considering that he didn't even know the girl. He did see that she didn't seem to have finished dying her hair, and the clothes didn't seem to fit or be worn just right. He didn't know any of the people there, so he didn't trust them. The crowd seem to be building, and he started getting anxious, so he steped away over to an area where the wasn't anybody.

He sighed and left the area. The crowd was building up and he didn't like crowds, nd he didn't have anything else to do at the scene. he went to hi apartment on the edge of town where not many peope stayed, and went up to his room. he flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking. he fell asleep after a moment, suprisingly tired.

Police Department – Nash and Westhuizen’s Office
Detective Michael Nash

Nash was sorting through the case files he’s currently working on. At the moment, he has two open and one going through court. He has been working on the gunshot victim for a week now and the nagging feeling hasn’t left him. His eyes wandered to the bulletin board where evidence and suspect photographs were pinned. Nash was revisiting his deductive work of the case when Westhuizen entered the office groggily and lumped himself on his office chair.

Westhuizen was a bear of a man. Being 6’6 and nearly double the width of an average person, anybody will surely be intimidated, even the captain treads carefully around him. But friends just treat him as a harmless giant, even though he’s far from harmless, Westhuizen’s loyalty protects them from his brawn attitude.

Nash checked his watch and wasn’t surprise that his partner completely missed his shift. He vented out all his frustration earlier in the morning so he simply sighed and lit a cigarette. “Cue Ball will be putting you on the night shift.”

“Ya, fuck him. He won’t be around to see me crashing on the couch in the lounge. My head is on merry-go-round and ears are buzzing like a bitch.”

“You should have called in sick.”

“And suffer through the racket the subway is making? Dammit, I shouldn’t have move into the city. The rent was bloody cheap to make anybody suspicious but I just bit on it.” He took a flask out of his jacket and shot a mouthful. Nash simply ignored it, knowing the reasons why he’s a drunk. “Wadda I miss?” Westhuizen inquired.

“The shooter’s still loose and a campus murder.” Nash through a copy of the new case to his partner. “Preliminaries are in there, I’m still waiting for the autopsy and lab report.”

“Co-Eds... Damn, should have come in earlier. Victim’s Maria Todd, age 21, third year in college. Base on the school’s picture, she’s a dirty blonde but her hair is all fishy in the crime scene photos. What’s up with that?” Nash shrugged. “Psychos and kids these days...” Westhuizen muttered and continued reading the file.

“Damn file is half empty, no useful evidences found in the CS and no suspects apprehended. Only a bunch of conflicting statements from the canvas. A bunch say she’s a goody-two-shoes, ‘perfect in every way’ and another bunch saying she’s the ye-old college student, parties a lot, drinks a lot. From what I read, the only way we can get anywhere with this is whether we find the original CS or get to know the victim better.”

“I got exactly the same thoughts. Figuring that we won’t find the original CS without knowing the victim a little better or establishing a timeline, I listed down few person of interests during the canvasing. A girl named Lisa Daniels says she used to be best friends with the victim, says they have a falling out and haven’t spoken in months. I haven’t found anybody who corroborates her story yet.

Also from the bunch who described the victim as a ‘ye-old’ college student, two names stood up: Lilith Adams and Chris Richards. They seem to be the ones who know the most regarding after-school activities and might have seen her prior to her murder. There’s also word about a dealer bouncing around campus, someone called Skinny Harley or Handsome Harley or Harley Sportster or something like that. His aliases goes on and on.”

“At least we know where to start.”

“Since you’re on the night shift, you’ll be the one to file the autopsy and lab report and follow up on the preliminaries. I’m hitting the sack.” Nash stood up and gathered his things, when he was about to leave the office Westhuizen pointed something out from the bulletin board: “Nash, doesn’t it look like the girlfriend did it?” Michael followed his partner’s vision.

“Shit, I should have seen that!” He cursed and left Westhuizen laughing.

---

The days had past and the user had become active once more on his forum. Reed growled a little, the fingers grasping the cardboard cup of coffee shaking. He looked at the messages the blank user account sent through the forum. Pictures of a girl...Maria...from all around the campus. They were all recent, the exif data matching showing they came from multiple points over the year. Reed's brows furrowed. He knew that those late nights earning a few extra bucks by scouring sites, drives and phones of evidence was practice for something. He pulled the site down, sending a message off to the members of his site claiming a DDoS attack, and proceeded to look over the data of the pictures. It amazed Reed to this day that someone could be two varying aspects of a personality. Reed was only ever Reed, the tech head that everyone went to for IT problems. Yet here was Maria, photos of her good grades and photos of her half naked and drunk at some frat party. The lines on Reed's forehead deepened as the waitress walked over. Why this particular girl...unless...

"Need more?" She looked pointedly at the now emptied cup of coffee.

Reed smiled and nodded "please" his face relaxed when he realized he was not at home. He pulled up Lisa's contact again for the second time this week.

" Hey...that creep on the site was posting pics of your friend, Maria. Better talk to her "

The waitress returned with his cup of coffee and he smiled once more, leaving a small tip on the table before standing and leaving the cafe. He had the sinking feeling that the blank account that posted over his site was the cause of this disturbance. He shuddered gently and pulled out his phone once more. He knew a certain detective would know what's happening and dialed his private number. He smiled slightly at the memories of the last run in he had with Nash, his 'extra curricular' activities as a grey hat having caused some fuss in the city.

"Detective Nash...what's happening at the campus? My site was just filled with hate speech for a Maria Todd and an account saying she deserved what she got...it posted some pretty fucked up photos from her personal camera" the words spilled from Reed's mouth. He was slightly excited. He always wanted to be a detective...maybe he could help.

Lily was elbows deep in charcoal dust, working on her latest art project in the studio. Her veins were buzzing with caffeinated fuel as she added strokes to the dark piece inspired by one of her favorite movies, Brandon Lee's "The Crow". An eerie silence had fallen over the studio since Maria's death a few days ago, but Lily didn't really mind the peace and quiet to work in. The vibration of her cell phone on the metal desk cause Lily to startle, thankfully she didn't mess up her drawing. Lily didn't recognized the number on the screen, but decided to answer it anyway... could be an interested customer.

A new drug deal, this was not. Nervous sweat gathered on Lily's brow when she realized she was talking to the cops, that wasn't really the best scenario for a person with her extra-curricular activities. The detectives wanted to know about her relationship with Maria and, although she was nervous about talking to the blues, she didn't want to seem guilty of murder, so she agreed to meet with them in a half hour at the Urban Grind. After hanging up the phone, Lily cleaned up and put her supplies in her assigned locker. She shut off the lights and grabbed her messenger bag before heading out to wait for the next bus downtown to the coffee shop.

During the whole bus ride, Lily tried to calm herself by listening to her iPod, but her jittering fingers and bouncing right leg betrayed her acting skills. It's not like the detectives were suspicious of her being a dealer, she hoped, she would just answer their questions about Maria as honestly as possible. Well, maybe she would admit to smoking pot and dropping acid at parties with her, not being the one who sold it to her. Could they arrest her for saying that she did it, it's not like she was currently in possession of any drugs, so she didn't think so. She hoped not. The bus came to a halt and Lily did her best to shake off the nerves as she walked into the Urban Grind and wrapped her iPod cord up and put it back in her bag.

Lily guessed that the table with two brooding men who looked about 30 years too old to be there were Detectives Nash and Westhuizen. It looked like they had been kind enough to buy a third cup of coffee for her, a nice enough gesture, given the situation. The detectives asked her a series of questions about Maria and their relationship, so Lily did her best to answer:

"Maria was an odd one, not to disrespect the dead or anything... but she kinda had two personalities, ya know? She was one of those trust fund babies who went to college because mommy and daddy paid for it, along with her nice car, and her fancy clothes. In high school I'm guessing she was the cheerleader captain that all of the jocks chased after, but couldn't touch, at least she wouldn't tell people if they did. Here at the University though, things are a little different, people show their true colors here. She is still in one of those pretentious goody two-shoes majors like journalism or communications studies, something like that. She gets good grades and all... but she knows how to party. Well, she knew how to party, I guess... That's actually the only reason I knew her. It's college, and we students like to party, everyone knows it. Maria though? That girl couldn't handle her alcohol well, she could end up mostly naked buy the end of the night - not that most people minded, she had a body that was nice to look at. We also may or may not have exchanged recreational party enhancers, if you catch my drift... so, it wouldn't really be in my benefit to have her disappear, our relationship was professionally mutual. As for the last time I saw Maria alive, it was a Saturday night party on 5th Avenue in the frat house, so that was about three nights ago. The party was a good time, and I think she left with one of the local trouble makers. He goes by many names, but I think his real one is Cooper Harley. I hope that helps."

" Hey...that creep on the site was posting pics of your friend, Maria. Better talk to her "

Lisa didn't even want to respond. She was too tired, like she hadn't slept in a month. Yesterday's classes were skipped, and today's would be as well. Her little dorm was a nest of lament and regret, the half closed blinds only let slivers of light drip through. Old memories from a happier time returned from the dead. Photos long forgotten scattered all over her laptop, photos she thought were all deleted. She looked through them all at least twice. Now that she had time to process everything, it hit her in the gut like a freight train. The cold knot in her gut wouldn't go away. But the worst part was the cliche about being too late. She and Mari didn't end their friendship on good terms. Now all was left was regret.

She wanted to hibernate like a bear, lock herself away until time healed the wounds. But some detectives got a hold of her, they wanted to ask a few questions. Lisa didn't know anything. Nothing that would help. But she has seen enough cops shows to know the best thing to do is to cooperate. As stupid and pointless as their questions are, she'd answer them. They agreed to meet in a little diner near campus. Some hot food would do her some good. Lisa wasn't exactly looking like a beauty queen. She hadn't bothered to comb away the bedhead, contacts were pushed aside for chunky glasses, and she wore sweats out of laziness.

The sound of crackling bacon and smell of hot coffee made the engine in her belly rumble. She just started to dig in when two stiffs came in. They couldn't be more cop-like if they tried. Straight to business. They started with some simple things and she answered as best she could.

"Yeah she was a girl-scout, kept her nose clean. Even went to church on Sundays and part of some church groups. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't a dweeb or anything. She went to parties and whatever, a real social butterfly. Responsible, that's what she was. Drank but never too much. Partied but never too hard. Always knew when enough was enough. She watched my back, let me crash at her place more than once when I was too drunk to find my way home. We used to be friends, the best kind. Back then, we did everything together. But we had a falling out. I haven't spoken to her in months."

Like she expected the detectives pushed harder on the "falling out" part. The part she didn't want to talk about. She wasn't about lie, but she wasn't gonna tell the whole story either.

"Look, we got in a fight and never spoke again. I tried to reason with her, I really did. But that stupid old fashioned family, and idiot pastor had her brainwashed real good. I couldn't take it anymore, the constant lectures about the will of god and endless quotes from the bible... I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't be with someone who thinks I'm going to hell for no good reason. She forced me to go to a "religious healing" event once, more like indoctrination event.

About a week after we stopped talking she called me, several times. I ignored her. Tried to forget about her. Eventually she stopped. Guess she thought I wasn't worth the trouble. Wouldn't be surprised if she hated my guts. But the truth is I never hated her, I never could. Not Mari. I got into some trouble back then. Went to a lot of parties for free booze and hoping I might run into her. Eventually I just gave up. She'd never accept me after... I'm so stupid. Why didn't I just leave things the way they were? I dunno what she's been up to since then. There are a bunch of crazy rumors about her going around. But I know she's a good kid.

She's not really the type to make enemies, I dunno who wanted her dead. My best guess, some creepy stalker. Mari was gorgeous and kind, she was always popular with the boys. I remember she always had some asshole ex trying to "win her back". As if she's a trophy to be won. Look, I'm not telling you how to do your job or anything, but you should talk to Reed Norman. He found some weird pictures of Mari on his forum. Maybe you should check that out."