Rise of the Requels

The Medical Examiner

Randy rubbed his hands together, as if he were washing them, but all he could see was Candy's blood staining them red. Since arriving at the police station, he'd washed his hands at least half a dozen times, but they still felt caked in blood. Shakingly, Randy set his hands down on his lap as he continued to wait for the detective to come in and interview him.

While Tanner, Tara, and Sam had all been put in a separate interrogation room together, Randy (having been the only one to witness the second Ghostface attack) had been placed in a room all by himself and left alone for over an hour, which definitely hadn't been the best decision.

He was seriously beginning to wonder if they'd forgotten about him when Detective Bailey entered the room. The man tossed the casefile onto the table in front of Randy before sitting down across from the boy, "Are you doing alright, son?"

"No," Randy admitted, his voice breaking on the one word, "I didn't even know her, really. And she died because of me."

"There was nothing you could do, Randy," Detective Bailey assured, "but there is something you could do now. Can you tell me anything about the killer? How tall they were, how they walked, did they have any kind of accent or specific body shape?"

"If I had to guess, the killer was a little shorter than six feet tall," Randy started, but it was hard to tell in the hood and the robe, especially with boots on. I didn't see them walk, he just stayed in place and..." Randy gulped, "well, you know."

"Yeah," the detective nodded, "Anything else?"

"I couldn't hear any accent through the voice modulator," Randy answered, "and the robe covered up any body shape that wouldn't have been utterly obvious. The person you're looking for isn't obese or, um... particularly well-endowed, I think would be the polite way of phrasing it."

"So all you know is that the person had a fairly standard voice, walk, height, and body type?"

"Yeah, basically," Randy admitted, "I guess that's not very helpful, is it?"

"Not really," the detective agreed, "Thankfully, our Medical Examiner, Dr. Mallard, was able to give us a bit more. Judging by the slice in the neck, he says your height estimate is pretty spot-on, but he said that, since we know the killer was standing behind the girl, we can tell he's left-handed."

"How?"

"Well, that would be a question for him," Detective Bailey responded, "I can take you down to meet him, once we're done here. It might help you take your mind off things."

"Sure, why not?" Randy agreed, "What did you need to ask me?"

"Why were you up on the roof?" Detective Bailey asked, "From what my daughter has told me, you don't usually go up there."

"I went there to get away from things. Specifically from the news about the new killings," Randy said, growing somewhat suspicious, "Why?"

"Why didn't you just go to your apartment?" Detective Bailey queried, ignoring Randy's own question, "You had to pass it on the way to the roof, correct?"

"Yeah, I did," Randy agreed, "but I wanted some fresh air and I wanted to be outside, in the open air. I figured the roof would be safer than the street, with a serial killer around."

"Funny how that worked out," Detective Bailey muttered before asking, "and you didn't touch the piece of paper? The one that you said fell out of Ms. Chase's pocket?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then why were your hands covered in blood when the paramedics and police arrived!?"

"Because I was trying to stop up the bleeding and do CPR!" Randy yelled right back, "What was I supposed to do!? Just leave her there without trying to do anything!?"