Heavy Rains: Inferno (WATTY AWARDS 2012)

Part 1: Chapter 2

1.2

Grey sighed out lightly as he lied the manila folder down on an oak chest beside the door as he carefully removed his jacket and set it back onto the coat hanger. It was soaked thoroughly and would most likely need to be in the actual dryer, but he dismissed the thought at the moment and reached for the folder once more, his shirt only slightly damp compared to his jacket.

He bit his lip in thought as he feverishly fingered his shoes off and then his socks respectively. He wouldn’t ever admit it but seeing that folder sent him a flutter of hope for the nightmares to cease.

This, he knew, sound quite strange. Most would believe that having some time off of a case would help one sleep, but for Grey Boone, this would be the exact opposite.

He walked across the wooden floor and absent mindedly made a left upon habit and through the doorway he went, into the kitchen, and taking a break from his staring session with the off-yellow folder cover, he set it down on the black granite top breakfast bar, and turned on a couple of lights that were within reach.

He walked quickly to the coffee pot where some coffee sit, already made. It wasn’t fresh but that hardly mattered to him.

He reached up and swiftly opened the oak cabinet, grabbed a large white mug and set it down onto the countertop before pouring some black coffee in it and stuck it in the microwave for a grand total of thirty seconds.

All of these actions, however, went on mindlessly. Doing each of these tasks strictly out of muscle memory as he pooled over what may lie within the folder he had been given, mentally challenging himself into guessing the exact contents of what his case consisted of.

He pulled the mug out of the gleaming microwave and brought it to his lips, taking a quick drink of the liquid and letting it pour down his aching throat that now seemed to sigh in relief.

Black coffee.

Not quite finished but half-way there, he laid it beside the sink absentmindedly, just as how he had been doing almost everything since given that case file.

He made his way across the hard wood on the floor, and to the bar before snatching up the file and opening it as he went to grab his coffee again.

As to why had set his coffee down in the first place he hadn’t the slightest clue but he wasn’t trying to figure it out at the time either. All he knew was that he was transfixed in that file and what it had to offer him.

He grabbed the coffee mug, feeling the warmth of the glass transferring to his cool skin, as he made his way to the seat again. He quickly clambered into the wooden seat and finally let his eyes rest on the words.

‘Murder.’

That was the first thing he noticed on the page. That much was obvious. He rarely was ever asked to solve a case without at least one murder in it, however, this was one of those times were it was only one murder.

He skipped the page, flipping it over to reveal the next one which held a picture of the crime scene.

Though the years of his work were virtually nothing compared to many hard working officers, his years had shown him a lot.

Pictures forever burned within his memory, bodies and screams forever etched into his brain, the images and sounds repeating as though on a never-ending spool of film within his brain.

He blinked a few times at the atrocity of the photograph and swallowed. Cocking his head slightly to the side as though the photo were crooked. The photo, in fact, was not crooked. But instead, the body.