The Remains

XXIII - Sanders

Another guilty woman walked out of the police precinct. She'd shot her girlfriend in her bedroom. Not enough evidence at the crime scene, and a half decent lawyer, and she was gone. She was going to disappear tonight. Use one of her fake IDs to get across the country, and make some new friends.

She often thought about that moment. Her partner on the floor, half-naked, begging for her to put the gun down. Savoured the moment when she pressed the barrel against the back of her head. She liked the way the gun had lurched back when she squeezed the trigger.

I felt someone's mind moving near me. Little ripples. I concentrated on the disturbance, and jumped into the mind of Francis Leavitt. He opened the door to the evidence lockup, and walked down the long line of shelves. He walked past the set of metal drawers my consciousness was stuck in. I could feel little vibrations with each step.

He stopped by a different draw, and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. Elise was right. Eight years is long enough to earn a promotion, least of all be stuck running for files. He opened a drawer labelled '2004'. "OK... P... L... E... Here it is." I watched through his eyes as he pulled a file out of the cabinet. Here it is, Simion Plessis. He opened the folder.

I froze. The photo was old, when he had fewer piercings, and a different haircut, but that face was etched into my mind. After what he did to that girl...

I pushed away from the mind of the police officer in the evidence room, and jumped into the mind of someone above us, on ground level. Ambre Morel, another officer. She was guarding the entrance to the main office.

A man in a suit with a crooked tie walked up to her. "My name is Mr Lortie. I am Master Plessis' barrister."

Ambre scowled. "Head on through."

I latched onto his mind as he walked through into the office. He strode over to the interrogation rooms, and set his briefcase down.

Several minutes later, the door opened. A burly man in a black and grey suit stepped out, and held the door. The lawyer picked up his briefcase, and went through the door.

The burly man chuckled. "Good luck on this one." The door clicked shut.

Mr Lortie pulled out a seat opposite the man cuffed to the table. "First things first, you got a nickname, or something you'd rather I call you?"

The man looked up and sneered, pulling the innumerable piercings on his face tight. "Yeah, actually. Sip. Call me Sip."