Marcus

Chapter Four

Marcus~

Marcus hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fallen asleep, but his body jolted itself awake around 3:30am. Every one of Marcus' muscles contracted all at once, jarring him into consciousness, forcing him awake in a sudden panic. His chest was heaving as if he'd just run a marathon and tiny beads of sweat peppered his forehead and neck.

Most nights he was lucky enough not to remember the nightmares that woke him, but tonight wasn't one of those nights. The images of Caroline flashed hot in his brain with perfect clarity and he couldn't turn it off or make it go away. The images of her...or what was left of her, tagged and organized in the morgue played on repeat in some sort of horrific slide show that was on an endless loop.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath as he ran a frustrated hand through his bed-headed hair.

The visual he had of Red's perfect hands, the hands he had held so many times before with charred flesh and missing digits tore him apart. He couldn't force the picture from his thoughts and desperately squeezed his eyes closed, hoping to rid himself of the gut wrenching image, but it was no use.

Suddenly his mind focused on one particular detail - one detail he was too overwhelmed to notice, but that his subconscious was trying to make sure he saw and took note of. The hairs on the back of Marcus' neck stood on end as he focused intently on the image in his mind. Instead of ridding himself of visual he focused harder on it, bringing the details into perfect focus until he reached a terrifying conclusion.

Her nails were painted in the morgue pictures and Red never painted her nails.

Marcus flew out of bed, throwing on shorts and a t-shirt as fast as he could as he made his way to his car. He dialed Nates number and waited impatiently as the line trilled.

"What up Mac?" Nate said in a groggy voice that was thick with sleep.

"I'm on my way over." Marcus stated, throwing his car in drive.

"Sure man but uh... you know what time it is?" Nate asked.

"It's 3:38." Marcus replied dryly.

"Well that answers that, I guess I'll see ya in a few." Nate chuckled.

Marcus arrived at Nates in record time and jogged up the front steps of his house as he fired off a text letting Nate know he had arrived.

"Hey man, so what's..."

Marcus cut Nate off before he could finish his question.

"Her fingernails were painted Nate." Marcus said, brushing past Nate in the doorway and entering his home as if he lived there.

"Come again?" Nate asked, swiveling his head in confusion and squinting one eye against the bright lights of his entry hall.

"Fingernails." Marcus reiterated holding up one of his hands and pointing at his own nails.

"Yeah I know what fingernails are, but what I don't know is why you're pacing around my living room talking about them."

Huffing out an irritated breath from his lungs, Marcus dropped his shoulders and explained himself.

"Caroline...The pictures you showed me today of her in the morgue...her nails were painted."

Nate obviously wasn't putting the pieces of Marcus' story together on his own and narrowed his eyes at his teammate as he studied him.

"Mac are you drunk?"

"What? No! What I'm trying to tell you is they were painted in the picture, but she never kept her nails painted...not ever."