in a vise.
Fred looked at Don’s bloodshot eyes. “Do you want ice for your head?”
“No, I’m fine.” Don lied.
“You don’t look so fine,” Fred said.
Don turned to Fred. “What part of fine don’t you understand,” Don
snapped. He was tired of trying to reassure his partner that he was okay.
There was no time to seek medical attention, and he had been hit
enough times in the head to know the pain would soon subside. It may take an
hour or two, but he would endure. He just didn’t need to keep telling Fred he
was okay.
“What’s gotten into you? You can’t stop looking at that,” Fred said
pointing to the portrait. “Remember, she’s our victim, so what’s your problem?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in another life I knew her.” Don laughed while
shaking his head. He almost wanted to cry, he ached so much thinking about
Raven lying on the coroner’s slab at the morgue.
Fred laughed. “You had another life?” he said.
Don was trying to shake the headache from grabbing hold. He turned to
a tech. “Do you have any aspirin with you?”
The tech reached in his case and tossed the bottle to Don, who quickly
opened it and took three. He popped them in his mouth and swallowed them
without water. Don then turned back to Fred.
“Haven’t you ever felt a connection with someone?” Don asked and then
paused a moment before continuing. “I don’t know, there’s just something about
her.”
“You’re forgetting, she’s also dead.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Don snapped. “God, I haven’t forgotten.”
Don regretted answering the phone last evening at the bar. He
regretted ever setting eyes on the vision of Raven VanBuren. Because now that
he had gotten to know who she was, she was embedded in his head and he couldn’t
stop thinking about her. On the one hand, he had this idealistic vision of her
and on the other hand, he had to come to terms that the fine upstanding person
he would have liked to believe she was, was a myth clouding his judgment. Even
in his sleep she came to him. He didn’t know how long this would last or if
he’d ever stop thinking about her. All he knew was, Raven VanBuren was having
an adverse affect on his mental state.
Before leaving, Don bent down and picked up the doily that was lying
on the living room floor. It reeked of cinnamon oil but he didn’t care. He just
wanted a piece of her to remember her by.
Fred just shook his head, not believing what Don had just done. It was
against company policy but then who was going to miss a little doily from a
crime scene?
Chapter 8
As Don walked out of Raven’s
house the sun hit him like a ton of bricks, making his head feel like it would
explode. He slowly tried to focus and hung onto the railing while he took in
the neighborhood. He tried to be careful as he descended the porch steps for
fear he was one misstep away from going to the hospital for an overnight
observation.
Fred had only worked with Don a little longer than a month, but in
that time Fred knew Don’s behavior in the past twelve hours was not normal. A
part of him figured it had a lot to do with his girlfriend kicking him out of
their apartment. Moving back into his mother’s place couldn’t have helped
matters either. But for Don to be so wrapped up in the victim in this case was incomprehensible
even for him.
The drive to Raven’s parents took long enough for Fred to get caught
up on what Don found out at the Hart Senate Office building where Raven worked.
As they pulled onto the street that Raven’s parents lived on, Fred
waved an acknowledgement to a car that passed by.
Don turned to him. “Who was that?” he asked.
“The priest friend.”
“That was nice of him to pay his respects.”
“That is what priests do,” Fred said, looking over at Don.
Arlington City was more impressive than Falls Church in that it was
more historic in nature. The houses were older. They all had their own sense of
character and were each
Fred looked at Don’s bloodshot eyes. “Do you want ice for your head?”
“No, I’m fine.” Don lied.
“You don’t look so fine,” Fred said.
Don turned to Fred. “What part of fine don’t you understand,” Don
snapped. He was tired of trying to reassure his partner that he was okay.
There was no time to seek medical attention, and he had been hit
enough times in the head to know the pain would soon subside. It may take an
hour or two, but he would endure. He just didn’t need to keep telling Fred he
was okay.
“What’s gotten into you? You can’t stop looking at that,” Fred said
pointing to the portrait. “Remember, she’s our victim, so what’s your problem?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in another life I knew her.” Don laughed while
shaking his head. He almost wanted to cry, he ached so much thinking about
Raven lying on the coroner’s slab at the morgue.
Fred laughed. “You had another life?” he said.
Don was trying to shake the headache from grabbing hold. He turned to
a tech. “Do you have any aspirin with you?”
The tech reached in his case and tossed the bottle to Don, who quickly
opened it and took three. He popped them in his mouth and swallowed them
without water. Don then turned back to Fred.
“Haven’t you ever felt a connection with someone?” Don asked and then
paused a moment before continuing. “I don’t know, there’s just something about
her.”
“You’re forgetting, she’s also dead.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Don snapped. “God, I haven’t forgotten.”
Don regretted answering the phone last evening at the bar. He
regretted ever setting eyes on the vision of Raven VanBuren. Because now that
he had gotten to know who she was, she was embedded in his head and he couldn’t
stop thinking about her. On the one hand, he had this idealistic vision of her
and on the other hand, he had to come to terms that the fine upstanding person
he would have liked to believe she was, was a myth clouding his judgment. Even
in his sleep she came to him. He didn’t know how long this would last or if
he’d ever stop thinking about her. All he knew was, Raven VanBuren was having
an adverse affect on his mental state.
Before leaving, Don bent down and picked up the doily that was lying
on the living room floor. It reeked of cinnamon oil but he didn’t care. He just
wanted a piece of her to remember her by.
Fred just shook his head, not believing what Don had just done. It was
against company policy but then who was going to miss a little doily from a
crime scene?
Chapter 8
As Don walked out of Raven’s
house the sun hit him like a ton of bricks, making his head feel like it would
explode. He slowly tried to focus and hung onto the railing while he took in
the neighborhood. He tried to be careful as he descended the porch steps for
fear he was one misstep away from going to the hospital for an overnight
observation.
Fred had only worked with Don a little longer than a month, but in
that time Fred knew Don’s behavior in the past twelve hours was not normal. A
part of him figured it had a lot to do with his girlfriend kicking him out of
their apartment. Moving back into his mother’s place couldn’t have helped
matters either. But for Don to be so wrapped up in the victim in this case was incomprehensible
even for him.
The drive to Raven’s parents took long enough for Fred to get caught
up on what Don found out at the Hart Senate Office building where Raven worked.
As they pulled onto the street that Raven’s parents lived on, Fred
waved an acknowledgement to a car that passed by.
Don turned to him. “Who was that?” he asked.
“The priest friend.”
“That was nice of him to pay his respects.”
“That is what priests do,” Fred said, looking over at Don.
Arlington City was more impressive than Falls Church in that it was
more historic in nature. The houses were older. They all had their own sense of
character and were each
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