S. Cedric - Of Fever and Blood

An hour and a half later, after he had been hauled off in a police van to the Central Police Headquarters and locked in a room in the Homicide Unit, and after three officers successively harassed him with questions without giving him a single break that would have enabled him to gather his thoughts, he still was not sure he knew what they wanted from him, nor what he was supposed to say to defend himself. The only thing he did know was that the female cop he had slept with was missing, that the entire force was on the warpath because of that, and that he was in serious shit. He might have been totally innocent, but it seemed as though nothing he could tell them would possibly bring him any closer to getting back home.

“I don’t know anything,” he repeated, out of sheer desperation. “I left her place around five, and I went straight home. And then you guys barged in like I’m a fucking terrorist or something.”

Inspector Deveraux, leaning forward like a hyena eyeing its prey, stirred his coffee with a spoon. The sound of the metal clanking against the ceramic was unsettling.

“Look son, for starters, I suggest you watch your language.”

Anthony lowered his eyes.

“I swear, I don’t know what happened after I left.”

“Yeah. And you’re starting to get on my nerves, now,” Deveraux snapped. “Inspector Svarta was attacked in her home at five thirty-six precisely. She called Dispatch, and it was all recorded, you see? We know it was you, son. All we want is for you to tell us where you took her.”

“I didn’t do anything. I was already gone by that time!”

“Yeah, right. Because she kicked you out. That’s what you told us, is that it?”

“Yes, that’s what happened.”

“Except you didn’t tell us why she did that.”

“I…”

“The night didn’t go as you expected?”

Deveraux leaned over the table, bringing his angular face toward the young man.

“You guys had a fight? You can tell me.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“You didn’t realize at first how much of a self-centered bitch she was, right? What did she do, make you feel like a piece of shit? She insulted you? She just laughed at you? Your dick wasn’t big enough? Is that what made you fly off the handle?”

“We did not fight! She just wanted me to leave. It happens, okay? I’ve done it to plenty of girls myself. I just never realized how humiliating it is, that’s all. I did as she asked me. There’s no crime in that.”

The policeman took a last gulp of coffee and licked his lips. After setting the mug on the table, he adjusted his tie.

“Delicious. It’s too bad you can’t have any.”

The young man swallowed.

“I don’t know anything else, sir. I was gone.”

“But you just said that she humiliated you.”

“I… no… that’s not…”

“I bet it doesn’t happen to you often, some chick treating you like that, right?”

“But…”

“Is that why you hit her? So she would stop making fun of you? So she couldn’t humiliate you anymore? You wanted to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget. Is that it?”

“I never fucking hit her!” the boy shouted, losing his temper.

The door opened, and Chief O walked in.

“Losing our cool?” he said, taking a seat across the table from Anthony. “No need to get that worked up, young man.”

“I’m getting nowhere here, boss,” Deveraux said. “That goddamn kid is pigheaded.”

The boy looked at both officers, then pressed his hands to his head.

“I didn’t touch her,” he repeated in a broken voice. “Whatever it is that you blame me for, I’m innocent. I slept with that chick, and then I left. That’s the truth.”

“That chick, she’s our colleague, and she was kidnapped,” the unit chief said in a dry voice. “We know she was beaten. We found her blood on the floor, you understand? Her blood and your fingerprints.”

“We fucked, sir,” the boy said. “So it’s sort of expected that my prints would be all over the place! Christ, I don’t know what more to say! If she was attacked like you say, then it happened after I left. Maybe your dude was already in the building? Have you even thought of that?”

The unit chief stared at him, his face solemn, and the boy felt like the man was reading his thoughts.

“Let’s pretend that’s the case, Anthony. Did you see anyone else there when you left? In the hallway or in the lobby?”

Anthony tried to remember. A waste of time.

“I’m not sure, sir. I took the elevator. There was nobody.”

“On the street, then?”

“I don’t think so.”

“And when you opened the door to get out of the building, you are sure you didn’t let anyone in?”

“Yes, I’m sure of that.”

O folded his hands. His eyes had shadows under them, but they expressed boundless determination.

“Then we have a problem, don’t you think?”

Anthony lowered his head, his serpentine hair falling in his face.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered. “Fucking shit.”

Stepping out of the room, O gestured at Detective Benavente.

“Florian, he’s all yours. You make him start from scratch again.”

The policeman nodded and pushed open the door to meet their prisoner. Then O walked away, Deveraux on his heels.

“Jesus Christ!” the chief exploded when he reached the stairs. “She’s been gone seven hours! We’re too slow!”

He pointed his chin toward the interrogation room at the end of the hallway.

“Is it him?”

“No, boss. I wish it was, just like I would love to shave that junkie’s head. But he really does look lost. I think he’s telling the truth. We don’t have the right guy.” Deveraux hesitated, then added, “It’s the same MO. Like it or not, it’s our murderer who kidnapped her. And if he proceeds the way he usually does…”

Holding onto the stairway banister, O watched the officers coming and going down below.

“So did the neighborhood canvassing uncover anything?” Deveraux asked.

“Nothing. We’re getting nowhere.”

They spotted Detective Leroy running up the stairs.

“Good, you guys are here! I’ve got the hematology results. The blood on the floor is Eva’s.”

He met them at the top of the stairs, a stack of papers in hand. “But the blood on the broken mirrors belongs to someone else. It’s a woman, and her type is AB negative. It is, by far, the rarest type of blood type. Less than one percent of the population has it. At least we have something.”

“We have nothing at all,” O interrupted. His face was chalky. He looked like a statue. “Man or woman, it’s our killer who’s done this, right? Maybe he wanted to teach us a lesson, or else he simply found himself some big game this time. Either way, if we don’t find Eva within twenty-four hours, she’s dead. We have no time for speculation.”

Neither Deveraux nor Leroy could think of anything to add.

Suddenly, there was an outburst below. The three men leaned over the banister and saw Detective Mangin running up the stairs behind a man in a dark suit that barely contained his huge body.

“Stop! Now! It’s an order!” Mangin kept repeating.

“Are you completely fucking stupid? I need to see the chief. And I’m going to see him right now!”

The man got to the third-floor landing and planted himself in front of the three stunned officers. He was at least a head taller than any of them. He had heavy features that looked chiseled, a dark complexion, and a crooked nose, which was probably the result of an old fracture. His deep black eyes looked feverish.

“I’m looking for Chief O,” he said. “It’s very important.”

Detective Mangin spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness.