Grayson Todd
After feeling numb for ages, it wasn't surprising that Gray lost a few hours. It took the ringing of his phone to wake him up. He stared at it in mild disgust for a moment, before finally taking it and answering it. "Hello?"
"Good evening, detective."
Of course. It was Dispatch.
"I hope you aren't busy. You've got a crime scene to look at."
Gray was on his feet and moving to retrieve his notepad before the woman had finished. "Where?"
"Corner of Eighth and University."
"What should I expect?" he muttered, on his way out the door.
"A body."
He chuckled humorlessly. "Hilarious. Alright, on my way." Gray rubbed his face as he hung up the phone and left the building. As much as he complained about being called randomly, he was grateful for it at the same time. Gave him something to do.
Arriving on the scene, Gray flashed his badge to whomever it mattered and made his way to the heart of it. Already, CSI was handling the immediate evidence, and he approached carefully, not wanting to disturb anything. "What've we got?"
"Young female, looks in her twenties," the closest investigator replied, snapping a picture of the scene. "Neck is snapped. Clean."
Even in the fading light, Gray could see that the victim was short-haired and brunette. He frowned. No wonder they'd called him out of all the detectives in Homicide. This was his case. "It's the Ghost," he murmured shaking his head with a sigh. "How much do you wanna bet she was reported missing at least a year ago."
The investigator huffed and bent down to search the woman's pockets, before turning up nothing. At least, nothing apparently useful for now. "Unfortunately, Detective, I'm not a gambling man. Neither of us will know until we get test results back—no identification." The investigator's tone as he said that was without surprise; the Ghost Killer never let his victims go with identification. Which meant it would take longer to investigate the case as a whole.
Whoever he was, he was clever, Grayson would give him that.
Gray shook his head as he watched the CSIs do their jobs, before turning around and surveying the rest of the area. The first responders were still here, as to be expected of them, and he caught sight of a woman standing a little apart from the commotion. Ah. She must be the witness. If the terrified look in her eyes said anything.
It was as Gray was approaching her that Aaron finally showed up, looking flustered. "Oh, decided to join us, Your Highness?" Gray snarked at him.
Aaron ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head in slight irritation. "I was in. The shower. Of all the times for somebody to die—"
"Aaron," Gray scolded, furrowing his brows.
"Sorry," the man replied, shaking his head again, this time apologetically. "That our witness?" He nodded his head in the woman's direction.
"Dunno, I was about to go see."
The pair of them made their way over to the woman, who looked less than thrilled to have more cops coming to talk to her. The closer the two men got, the closer to the ground the woman was. Standing at six-foot-two, Gray was having to look down at her, and he wasn't sure either of them liked that. Because she was tiny. Barely above five feet tiny. Jesus. "Officers...." she murmured, crossing her arms against her chest uncomfortably. "Name's Emma," she added quickly, probably expecting to have to tell them for the umpteenth time.
"Hi Emma," said Gray, producing his notepad. "I'm Detective Todd, and this is Detective Matthews." Aaron waved a little as he was introduced. "I know you're probably sick of this, and I promise you'll be able to go home soon. But can you tell us what you saw? What you know?"
Emma shrugged slowly, avoiding their gazes—though that was probably as much disinterest in having to crane her neck as anxiety—and exhaling. "I was just taking a walk, waiting for my husband. We were going to have dinner at the Chopping Pearl. I was walking past and I saw...." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the body, but she spared it little more than a flash of a glance. Gray didn't blame her. Not pleasant things to look at, bodies. "I saw a h–hand. I thought it was just a homeless person, taking a nap or...something. But...it wasn't. I called 911 immediately."
The detectives nodded, both writing things down. It was necessary to take down multiple accounts like this—often times a witness's story may change the more time that passes, as they struggle to make sense of what they witnessed. Fortunately, Emma's retelling sounded pretty cut and dry; the only personal speculation she'd given was her initial assumption of the victim's vagrancy.
"Do you know anything else?" asked Aaron. "Did you...see someone fleeing the scene? Something you maybe didn't notice in your initial shock?"
The woman furrowed her brows and shook her head slowly. "No....No, nothing like that." It was then a phone began to ring. Gray knew it wasn't his, and Aaron reached into his pocket to make sure his wasn't vibrating, however, Emma pulled hers out and looked distressed. "It's....It's my husband. He's probably wondering where I am." She grimaced before picking it up, glancing at the two detectives as if expecting them to move, but they didn't. "Hey, honey....Yeah, I know. I, uh...." Emma trailed off to stare at Gray's hand as he held it out. Confused, she murmured, "Hold on, hun," and handed the phone over with a questioning expression.
Grayson took the phone and brought it to his own ear. "Hello?"
There was a pause. "Uh. Who is this?" came a man's voice.
"My name is Detective Grayson Todd, sir. Your wife, Emma, is currently on the corner of Eighth and University, as a witness to a murder."
"....Excuse me?!"
Gray exhaled. "You're welcome to come here to her, sir, but I'm afraid we can't let her leave just yet."
"Jesus—is she okay?"
"She appears unharmed, sir. However, she is shaken. Unfortunately, it may be necessary to have her come in for further questioning."
There was shuffling and a sigh on the other line. "Okay, uh—Wh–where did you say this was...Detective?"
"Eighth and University." The man mumbled a confirmation before hanging up. Gray did so as well and returned the phone. "Sorry about that," Gray apologized. "Can't exactly have you contacting someone in the middle of a murder investigation."
Emma nodded slowly. "....Fair." She wrung her hands a little before asking, "Do I really have to go into the station?"
"It's a distinct possibility," Gray replied, glancing back towards the crime scene itself, where the body was finally being removed and sent to the morgue. He offered her an apologetic smile then and added, "It'll be over before you know it."
The woman sighed and hugged herself, casting her eyes to the ground, and didn't say anything.
Grayson knew how she felt. Being involved in a police investigation, any sort of investigation, wasn't easy. In fact, it was frightening, and tedious. He was all too familiar with the process, having been on her side of it before being on his currently. Unfortunately, his empathy was rarely well received. Instead of attempting, he simply promised Emma once again that things would move past her as quickly as possible, before taking himself and Aaron to another part of the crime scene to investigate.