Red Star

Now Part 3

The wedding starts off smoothly. It's on time, guests are crying, and Rosa is at his side. She stands proudly as his 'best man' which he never actually cast because it would feel like a betrayal. He didn't realise how much he actually missed her. Every day he wondered how she was doing and every week until he stopped seeing Frank he asked when he could see her. She's always been so stubborn and independent. Blessing and a curse.

He realises as he's having vows read to him by his fiancé that's he isn't paying attention at all. He's just staring forwards, which, he supposes, will look as if he's just staring lovingly into his eyes.

He's awoken by the sound of his phone ringing and the feel of it buzzing against his chest.

William releases his hands and asks who on earth could be calling him at this time and why does he have his phone with him?

"There's no one that isn't already here with us that could possibly want to call you, Brandon." William seethes and turns away to complain to his best man as Brandon reaches into his pocket to search for it.

He retrieves and extracts the phone from his tuxedo blazer.

Douglas Washington calling.

William peers over Brandon's phone to inspect the phone. He stills.

"You answer that phone and this is all over. All done. I would never want to see your face again." William says, and disgust drips from every word. He watches, waits for Brandon's response.

Brandon bites his lip as the default ringtone continues to blare out across the church. Rosa's breath hitches slightly. Williams foot starts to tap. The guests begin to murmur.

He answers the call.

"Brandon, thank God. You have got to come down and see this crime scene now. Bring Waters. Please."

Brandon's already walking out of the church with Rosa's wrist attached to his hand.

"We're on our way now," he rasps as his eyes water, William shouting behind them. "Text me the address."

"Thank you so much, Brandon, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What's so special about it?"

"It seems too familiar for my liking. It's a street massacre and nothing is adding up." Douglas seems erratic on the line, refraining to say what they all know could be the reason.

Brandon hangs up. He got all the information he wanted and he doesn't want to hang around on the phone listen to Douglas' pleas for any longer.

Inserting his phone into one of the pockets in his suit pants, he removes his suit jacket and loosens his bow tie, pulls it over his head and throws it to the side, striding across the courtyard and hailing a nearby taxi. He loses the emotion from his face without a problem. It'll make this easier.

Just as Rosa said earlier, no looking back any more.

He may be leaving his future and his present, but he's going back to his past.

And he'll do all he can do to make his past his future again. With Ros at his side again, anything will be possible.

Douglas was right. The crime scenes are...off. Something is wrong with them. One street. Thirty houses. Thirty dead bodies. All in the kitchens of the houses. All shot through the same place in the head.

It's familiar. Too familiar. So familiar that bile climbs up Brandon's throat as he pulls on a pair of white latex gloves in the twenty-fourth house, pushing aside regular forensic analysts.

Rosa is back in her zone, pulling apart cupboards and floorboards. The cops have let them do whatever the hell they like with the houses. They can't explain anything about the cases. They're done. Time for the FBI to come in, they eventually say, so here they are.

It's striking that something is missing. Someone. The scene feels alien without Ralph making innocent jokes about the murders that always lighten the tone and earn a searing glare from Ros. God, he misses Ralph.

He's smelling a wooden floorboard when it happens.

"I can smell paint." Rosa gasps, repeating it as she begins to erratically search each wall in the house.

It's a regular suburban house. She'll have searched all of the walls within seconds.

Paint. That's when they know. It's like a nice little signature to remind them who did it.

He wishes so much that she's wrong. Put it all down to her...condition.

But the thing about Ros is that she's never wrong.

"It has a shed in the garden," she pants. "I saw it from upstairs. I have to see inside."

She all but sprints to the curtains at the end of the house where curtains line the floor-length windows that act as as doors.

Brandon and Douglas follow her in earnest and worry dawns on them with each moment that passes.

It can't be. Please don't let it be.

Rosa nears the curtains, one hand on each side of the opening, and pulls.

They all stop in their tracks. Stop. Stop dead. Dead like Ralph, the man Red Star killed.

Painted in red, wet, dripping spray paint, a red star overlooks them.

"You have got to be kidding me."

~
Hello again!! Sorry it's been a longer wait than usual, but I've had a verrrrryyy busy week!!

Big chapter there! Don't worry, we'll answer this all in many chapters to come ;)

Thank you for reading!! Please vote and comment to show the love :)

The song of the chapter is 'Motion' by Syd Matters.