Hull - Volume III

The Devil's Dawn

Baynes turned to look at the figure with peered eyes. He couldn't see much, just a wooden stool occupied by a person in a short black peacoat, male by the voice, currently turned to face the corner. The officer glanced back at Athelney before nodding his head in the direction of the stranger. "Who's the stuffy in the coat? Does he know it's seventy outside?"

"You know the hotshot detective the commissioner works with?" Athelney said as she looked between the bodies. "The one who pulled the kids from the bus that flipped into the Willamette?"

The officer furrowed his brow as he chanced another look at the corner. "The guy that died? Yeah."

"Except he didn't die." Athelney jabbed her pen toward the man on the stool. "That's him."

"The Hell is he doing here?" Baynes asked.

"He just showed up. Said he heard about this from someone in his 'Network,' whatever that means."

Baynes snorted. "So why's he waiting?"

"I don't have access to your crime scene until Commissioner Lennox calls you and says otherwise," the man in the corner said, his voice muffled as it reverberated from the walls at his face.

"I told him to wait in the corner," Athelney replied with a smug grin.

"And you'll regret the time lost when the commissioner contacts you in five seconds," the detective chided. Baynes looked from the corner to the inspector as the next five seconds passed in complete silence. It was only after another five had passed that a deep sigh came from the corner. "I told him when to call. For a man of such importance, timeliness has never been his forte."

Athelney would've replied if the phone in her coat pocket hadn't started buzzing. She brought the phone up and recognized the caller, taking in a deep breath. "Athelney," she said as she answered the call. The commissioner's words were brief but concise. "Understood." She returned the phone to her pocket and gazed over at the man in the corner. "Alright. You now have unrestricted access to this crime scene. The commissioner requests that you 'not make this into another Doyle.'"

The detective jumped to his feet and gave her a grin with pressed lips. "I'll try my best." He stepped past the inspector and the officer to get his first full look of the scene. His eyes darted between the bodies and their corresponding blood stains, the chips in the walls where the bullets had found their final homes, the positioning of the gun on the table. He felt as if it had been too long since a good murder had presented itself, and for the first time in months, the blood raced through his veins and made him feel alive.

Athelney watched as the man worked, a sort of awe that she wasn't fond of falling over her. She'd neglected to pay it mind before, but now, as the detective moved, she noticed the red-hot energy that underlay his phlegmatic exterior, a sudden change that came over him the moment he gained access to the fatal scene. In an instant he became something else, tense and alert and eager, with eyes shining, face set and limbs quivering.

Sheridan carefully moved into the seat once occupied by Morgan Redruth and looked at the bodies around him. The visages were familial in nature and of the same ilk in ending posture, a dulled horror having fallen on them in their final moments. It was the dulled quality that drew his attention, a deferred demeanor that made it seem like they had arrived at the particular emotion in the brief second before their deaths.

"He sat here and shot them, one by one," the detective noted, creating a gun shape with his left hand and pointing at the three victims. "The chairs are pushed in and the wood is unscratched behind the legs. No one moved to object. No one tried to run. Why were they all complacent?"

"Is he asking us?" Baynes asked Athelney. She shrugged in response, watching the detective rise from the chair and start around the room hunched over as he observed the waist-height shelves that lined the walls. He eventually arrived at the fireplace against the farthest wall from the stairwell, stopping to poke his head into the hearth.