M Sellars - Harm none

“Dammit!” Ben exclaimed, turning in place and rubbing the back of his neck in a physical display of his exasperation. Once again he faced the tech and stabbed his index finger at him purposefully. “As soon as you guys are done here, I want you checkin’ out those candles. You understand me?”

“I’ll do what I can, Detective,” the forensics tech assured him, no longer exhibiting his earlier cockiness.

“And you,” Ben continued, turning and hooking his arm around Felicity. “Let me know if you ever need a job.”

A younger, but no less stone-faced desk sergeant issued Felicity and I visitor’s badges when we entered the police station where the Major Case Squad was currently headquartered. We walked down the long, familiar hallway and entered the room where the core of activity had been occurring when last we were here. At this early hour of the morning, the space was dark and still, entirely devoid of the earlier urgent bustle. Detective Deckert flipped a wall switch as we entered, bringing the stubbornly flickering fluorescent lights to life.

“Go ahead and have a seat,” he said. “Anyone besides me interested in coffee?”

He hung his jacket on the back of a chair and ambled over to the coffeemaker, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

“Me,” Ben announced.

“Make that two,” I added.

“Would you be havin’ any herbal tea?” Felicity queried.

“We got a box of some kinda lemon tea or some odd thing like that,” Deckert called out.

“Aye, that’ll work,” Felicity told him, heading over in his direction. “Here, let me give you a hand, then.”

I took a seat at one of the long cafeteria tables that had been set up to serve as a staging and conference area. Ben stripped off his own jacket and loosened his tie then joined me. He rubbed his tightly shut eyes then the back of his neck, shoulders drooping as he let out a long sigh. His hair was unkempt and his shirt stained with sweat. He was obviously still operating on little sleep.

“You didn’t take our advice did you?” I asked him.

“I took it,” he answered tiredly, head tilted back and eyes closed. “I just didn’t get a chance to use it.”

“You know, Ben, you can’t catch this guy all by yourself. Let some of the other cops do some of the work.”

“They are, I just like to know what’s goin’ on, and there aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up.”

“Remember how worried you were when you thought I was dying earlier?” I asked.

“Yeah, what about it?” he replied. “That’s what bein’ a friend is.”

“You’re right,” I told him. “And I’m starting to get worried about you.”

He let out another heavy sigh and slowly tilted his head forward, opening his eyes as he did so. His gaze came to meet mine, and we sat there silently for a long moment.

“I know you are. I know the little woman is too. I appreciate it, I really do,” he finally said. “Let’s just catch this asshole, then I’m takin’ a vacation. True story.”

“Here you go,” Detective Deckert said as he slid a cup of coffee in front of Ben. “It’s still brewing, so this is a bit thick if ya’ know what I mean.”

A similar cup appeared in front of me, placed there by my wife as she sat down. She clutched a cup of hot water and was rhythmically dipping a tea bag in it.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her.

“Fine, but I’m tired,” she replied and leaned against me. “And a little queasy, but I’ll be fine.”

“Allison had morning sickness for the first six months,” Ben offered.

“Morning sickness?” Deckert stated rhetorically. “I didn’t know you two were expecting. Congratulations. How far along?”

“Early yet,” Felicity told him. “Six weeks.”

“Well, it’s nice to hear some good news in the middle of all this crap,” he said and lifted his coffee cup in an informal toast.

“I hate ta’ bring it up,” Ben interjected, “but we have to talk about the case. The way I see it, we still have an asshole out there killin’ women, and we aren’t much closer to knowin’ who it is than we were when we started. Now personally, I think R.J.’s pile of bricks is startin’ to add up on a side of the scale where he’d rather not be.”

“You still need to talk to Devon,” I offered.

“True.” He continued, “And his pile isn’t exactly tiltin’ the scale in a positive direction either, but the fact is, R.J. very possibly worked with the latest victim.”

“You know,” Felicity stated thoughtfully. “It might not be either one of them.”

“That’s true,” Deckert chimed, “but you follow the leads you have.”

“What about that partial fingerprint?” I queried. “How soon do you expect to know anything?”

“The lab guys should have somethin’ for us in a coupl’a hours,” Ben answered. “It’s all gonna depend on how soon they get finished at the scene and how much of the print we actually have…”

“And if its owner is in the system,” Deckert added. “If he isn’t, then it could be weeks before we get any replies from the non-participating municipalities.”

“We haven’t got weeks,” I told them flatly. “This psycho has killed three women in less than ONE week, two of them in as many days.”

“You got any better ideas?” Ben asked.

“No,” I replied candidly, “and it irritates the hell out of me.”

“Welcome to the club,” he replied.

They were still processing the fingerprint from the latest murder scene when Felicity and I left to go home. With Detective Deckert’s help, we convinced Ben to do the same, as repeated calls to the forensics lab had only served to frustrate him more. It was agreed that we would attack the situation anew after whatever modicum of sleep we could get. I half expected to find Ben at my door for breakfast the next morning.

Felicity was feeling the effects of her first actual bout of morning sickness when the phone rang the next day. As expected, the person at the other end of the line was Ben, however, this time he was calling from the Major Case Squad headquarters instead of my driveway. His voice, though somewhat somber, sounded much less weary than it had only a few hours before.

“So are you free to come down here?” Ben’s voice issued from the earpiece.

“Yeah, I don’t have any client meetings today, so I can shake loose for a while,” I replied. “Felicity’s not feeling too well though.”

“Get used to it,” he told me.

“So what’s up?”

“We got the kid down here,” he returned, referring to R.J. “Says he doesn’t want a lawyer, but he wants you here.”

“Did you arrest him?”

“No, one of the local muni’s picked ‘im up on a DUI about the time we were at the crime scene last night… this mornin’… whatever.”

“Driving under the influence, huh,” I mused. “How’d you find out about that?”

“Since we decided we wanted to question him,” Ben began, “and I couldn’t find ‘im yesterday, I decided to run his tags this mornin’. Sometimes crap like that pays off, and it did this time ‘cause there he was. He looks like he’s fightin’ a hell of a hangover, but other than that, he’s no worse for wear.”

“Why does he want me there?” I queried.

“Somethin’ to do with the whole Wiccan thing, I guess,” he replied. “When we said we wanted to ask ‘im a few questions about Ariel Tanner and Karen Barnes, he got kinda paranoid on us.”

“You didn’t mention Ellen Gray at all?”

“Not yet. I still have a few things to check out before I play that card.”

“But if he’s not under arrest,” I puzzled, “can’t he just walk out?”