Chapter Text
Jones and I are sitting at my desk, the only noises in the room being the sounds of our breathing and Jones’s tabletop fan he took with him whirring on my desk.
Jones is busy gargling water in his throat, which he spits into the garbage can.
“…How’s that supposed to help? I ask curiously.
“I don’t know.” He grumbles. “I guess to gaslight me into feeling cleaner.”
I have no idea what he means by that, but I decide not to argue.
There’s footsteps from around the corner. We look up, and spot a very familiar white-haired man striding over to us.
“Chief King-!” Jones and I scramble out of our chairs, stand up, and salute.
He lets out a small huff, his mustache twitching slightly as he crosses his arms. “Well, I’ll be,” he says. “Deputy Perez, you and Jones did splendidly with this case.”
His left eyebrow’s up. That’s a good sign, most likely.
“I know it can’t have been a walk in the park, especially because of…the method-” he clears his throat, “-but you kept your cool and got on the bottom of things. Great job!”
… Well, we relatively kept our cool, I ponder to myself as I relax my muscles and give him a polite smile. “Thank you, Chief.”
Jones smiles as well. “Judging by the fact that you’re stopping by like this, though, you’ve got assignments for us to complete?”
Chief King nods, his smile fading into a grim line. “Unfortunately, yes. I think you should check up on Mrs. Carter and Mr. Colletti. Both of them lost a daughter today, and I want to make sure they won’t do anything they might regret.”
God. He’s right, and I’m already silently praying to myself that neither of them let the grief of losing a child consume them.
Loss is a powerful thing.
“Okay,” Jones says, crossing his arms. “We’ll make sure they’re alright, Chief. Is that all?”
He shakes his head. “No. While you’re at it, make sure you check up on that ‘One-Tooth Sam’ fellow. He’s brought up some serious concerns about the safety of the homeless camp…Hooperville, he called it?”
“I- Cooperville, sir,” I reply.
“Ah, yes.” The corners of his mouth twitch up slightly into an awkward little smile. “My apologies. I think old age is starting to catch up with me…” He coughs into his fist. “…Anyway! Carter, Colletti, and Sam. Make sure to check up on them, alright?”
I nod. “Alright. We…we can do that, yeah.”
Jones gives another eager salute. “Aye aye, Chief!”
First thing we decided to do was go visit Raoul Colletti. Luckily for us, we had called both Sam and Mrs. Carter, and they seemed relatively alright with being put on a metaphorical queue.
I can’t help but find myself worried about Mrs. Carter, though. I’m wringing my hands and bouncing my leg anxiously as Jones drives the police cruiser to the docks.
Colletti’s pacing around in front of his butcher shop, his feet rapping against the pavement. He’s wiping his hands with a towel — repeatedly, with a level of intensity that definitely for sure isn’t normal.
The moment he spots us exiting the police cruiser, he throws the towel aside, scurrying over to us. “Officers-! Oh, thank goodness! I-I need your help, truly!”
He reeks of sweat and animal blood, and his eyes are bloodshot.
Jones holds up his hands. “Calm down, Mr. Colletti, and explain in full. Start from the beginning.”
“I- alright, alright.” Colletti cracks his knuckles. “Fir- First of all, I still cannot believe that my daughter could do such a terrible thing…and- and second of all, I think- I think I’m going paranoid!”
“…Elaborate, please?” I ask.
“I- I haven’t slept in a while, Deputy!” He exclaims. “Every time I go into that damned warehouse, I see Jennifer’s blood everywhere!!”
Jones opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
Raoul is still stammering out his words. “I- I know this is a tall order, officers, and you can brush me away if you want to- but, but please, can you inspect my warehouse and check whether or not there’s anything else tainted with her blood?”
I-
-what-?
We’re completely silent, staring at this incredibly fidgety man in front of us.
He clears his throat to speak again. “O-once again! If you don’t have the time, it’s fine, I’ll just clean it all up myself-”
Jones’s expression pulls into a very, very forced smile as he holds up his hand in reassurance, and I can’t tell whether or not he’s trying to calm Colletti or himself. “…No, no worries, Mr. Colletti! We’ll…we’ll be happy to look at all that blood for you!”
“…Okay, Raoul can’t be serious , CAN HE?!” He yells once we’re out of earshot, waving all around the warehouse. ”This place is COVERED in blood!! How in the everloving fuck are we supposed to figure out which is pork and which is woman ?!”
“Why the hell did you accept the task in the first place if you had no idea what to do?!” I demand, turning to glare at him.
“Listen, in my defense, you saw him!” He sputters out. “The poor man was grieving the fact that his daughter is a monster, I didn’t want to upset him!”
I open my mouth, then shut up immediately. “…You know what? Fair enough.”
“Booyah.”
The both us stare again at the misty, frigid, bloody expanse of the warehouse we’re in right now.
I see Jones wrap his arms around himself and shiver. “…So, how are we supposed to do this?”
I squint into the frosty fog as I turn on the lights. “I…Intuition, I guess.”
I scan around, spotting the only empty hook in the warehouse behind a hanged-up pig.
I slowly make my way over, keeping my distance from all the sliced-open cadavers before squinting closer at the hook. Sure enough, I think as I retrace my old steps, that’s the exact hook. Mr. Colletti most likely never touched it, even after Jennifer’s body was removed…
“Considering the fact that Trish hung Jennifer up there,” I say, pointing at it, “we can safely assume that any object……sssss with Jennifer’s blood are most likely in around a…general area, I guess.”
Jones lets out a small huff. “I’m relying on your instincts for this one, Val. If anyone can find human blood in this mess, it’s you!”
“How flattering.”
It’s a quick search. Jones and I just scan around the room for something that seems out of place, and the first thing my eyes lay on is a pair of glasses on a clean spot of floor.
“…Did any of the Collettis have poor eyesight?” I mutter out loud. “Or Raphael or Jennifer, for that matter?”
“I don’t recall so?” Jones replies, standing up and stretching his back. “Why’d you ask?”
I hold up the glasses. “Found this on the floor. How much can I bet that these have Jennifer’s blood on them?”
“Hopefully. If not, I dunno what to tell you…”
“I’ll send a sample of the blood on this to Grace,” I offer. “And in the meantime, we can do the other tasks while we wait for her to finish!”
“That’s actually a pretty good idea!” He agrees. “Yeah- yeah, let’s do that! The sooner we get out of this place and get this over with, the better!”
Once we drop the sample gathered off at Grace’s lab, we decide to check up with One-Tooth Sam to see how he’s doing. The moment he spots us, he strides over nervously. “Oh, thank goodness! You’re just the people I needed to see!”
“What seems to be the matter, Sam?”
He pauses, itching at his beard. “Look, it’s…it’s honestly a nightmare for everyone here right now! Between the Vipers, Marconi’s henchmen, and the Skulls, things here are getting worse and worse!”
…Who are the Skulls? My brow furrows with confusion.
He notices my confusion and turns to me. “The, uhh, other gang that roams this general area,” He explains. “They’re currently at war with the Vipers, and at this rate, this whole place’s gonna blow sky-high!”
Oh, that’s not good-
“Anyway,” he continues, “We have to hide everything we have, or those goons take it from us!”
Jones nods. “I understand your frustration, Sam, but so far we haven’t been able to pin anything on those guys…we’re trying our best, but right now-”
Sam smiles sheepishly at us and shakes his head. “Ha! Nah, don’t worry, I get it. I’m not asking for much…” He itches the back of his neck, causing flecks of dead skin to fling off. “...okay, now that I think about it, I could’ve just done this myself-”
“No, no, don’t worry!” I say, holding up my hands. “We’re here to help. What do you need, sir?”
He chuckles nervously. “Okay, uhh…listen. I’m a bit of a busy man right now, trying to work to keep morale high in this camp. I wanna try to talk to everyone, lift their spirits a little, that sort of thing, you know?”
Jones nods. “Go on.”
Sam clears his throat as he glances at him. “...I just can’t seem to figure out where I’ve hidden my lucky gold tooth. I don’t really have the time to look for it right now…and I’ve heard that your pal Val is a crack at finding lost things.”
Oh?
I can’t help it. My cheeks flush a little pink at the compliment. I have no idea why.
Jones chuckles and ruffles my hair. “Well, you hear that, Val? You’ve got a bit of a reputation!”
Sam lets out a snort through his nose. “D-Did I startle you? My apologies, Deputy-!”
“No, no, it’s fine!” I yelp, trying to hide my face behind my hands. “I just didn’t expect my name to spread so quickly! We’ll- we’ll find that tooth for you, don’t worry!”
Sam lets out a hearty laugh. “Thank you, you two! I gotta go check up on people right now, so…”
Jones nods. “We got it, Sam. You don’t need to mind.”
Jones and I scour all over the camp — looking through nooks and crannies, searching under cloth, wood, and metal, even asking around a couple of the residents. Unfortunately, we aren’t having that much luck finding it, but considering the amount of blood and gore we’ve faced today, a normal search for a normal item is a therapeutic change of pace.
Thank god.
My eyes eventually land on a trash can laying on its side, and I peer at it from a distance to try to assess any glint of gold.
“…You wanna search through that trash can?” Jones asks, looking over my shoulder. “Your flair might not be as good after you subject yourself to those fumes, y’know!” He snickers lightly.
“I think at this point, a trash can that I’m sure doesn’t have some sort of guts in it is a trash can I’ll willingly search indeed,” I reply. “…Also, I‘ll just take a shower at home. It’s fine.”
He shrugs. “…You make a fair point. Be my guest!”
I walk over to the trash can, snap on a pair of gloves, and get to work sitting through trash. I’m holding my breath as much as possible, searching for any sign of a tooth.
And as I reach into a small pile of food scraps, I find it. A little gold tooth — judging by the shape, I assume it’s a molar.
Jones whistles, crossing his arms and leaning against a pillar. “Great job! Not gonna lie, I thought that the trash can would be more of a challenge. That thing is tiny!”
“I thought so too, I guess,” I respond, putting the trash back into the can and pushing it back upright. “But hey, we got it! Let’s give this back to Sam.”
“Alright! I spotted him somewhere that way…”
I follow Jones as we tread our way back where we came from, and sure enough, Sam is talking to someone else when he spots us coming his way.
“Here you go, Sam!” I exclaim proudly, handing him our prize. “One gold tooth! Fresh from the trash!”
Sam’s eyes widen as he takes it into his rough, calloused hands, squinting down at it. “Already?! Damn, I see the guys didn’t lie! You ARE a crack! Thanks, Deputy!” He chortles, giving me a pat on the shoulder.
“Hey, I helped a bit too, you know!” Jones protests.
Sam raises an eyebrow at him with a smirk. “Sure…” he reaches out, ruffling Jones’s hair, “…the important thing is that you believe it, haha!”
He turns back to me. “I’m pretty good at finding stuff too, by the way! I actually found something yesterday, hold on-!”
He hurries off into the crowd, leaving Jones and me alone.
Not even a moment later, he comes back, breathing like he had just run a marathon with something in his hands. “ Phew!— I think my age is startin’ to catch up to me, heh…anyways, this is for you!”
I hold out a hand in curiosity, and he gives me a cap — a brown jaunty cap with a fabric patch on the top. “It’s a little musty…” he admits. “I found it in a construction site and fixed it up the best I could.”
I nod with a silly little smile, holding the hat close. “It’s great! Thank you, Sam!”
After saying goodbye to Sam, we head back to Grace’s lab to get the analysis results about that blood sample we collected.
She’s scratching the side of her neck, slightly confused. “I took a look at the blood you got from those glasses, you two, and it comes up positive for the victim! But I thought this case was closed?”
Jones chuckles. “Yeah, long story…”
“I can wait.” She crosses her arms. “I’ve got some time, anyway!”
He clears his throat awkwardly, glancing at me. “So, uhhh…how about you tell her?”
“I…oh, you-? I- uh…fine.”
I turn to Grace and explain the whole thing to her — Raoul’s call, his request, and his admittance of paranoia. I can see her brow furrow with concern.
“That makes sense. If you can, maybe tell Mr. Colletti I send my best wishes.” She puts her clipboard down.
“Alright!” Jones nods at her. “Thanks, Grace. I dunno what we’ll do without you!”
Once we head back to the docks, we scan the place for any sign of Colletti. He’s sitting in front of the warehouse, wiping furiously at the door handle with a towel.
“Mr. Colletti-?”
“AUGH!!” He flips around immediately, his eyes completely wide with terror until he recognizes that it’s just us. “-Oh. Hello, officers.” He coughs into his fist. “So…did you-?”
Jones holds up the pair of glasses (which we had previously cleaned and sterilized). “This was the only item we could find that had traces of Jennifer’s blood on them.”
Colletti’s eyes light up with realization. “I…my ex-wife’s glasses! How the hell did they end up in-?!” He takes it from Jones, holding it in his hands as he takes a good, hard squint.
He glances back at the warehouse door, then back at the glasses.
“I…you know what? Never mind. At least it’s over, somewhat…”
He lets out a huff as he puts it into his apron pocket. “Either way, thank you for helping me! If everyone was as selfless as you both, maybe my daughter wouldn’t have become a murderer…”
“…Unfortunately, we’ll never know that, will we?”
A weak chuckle leaves his throat. “…I guess not. Anyway, thanks again. Maybe now I can finally sleep at night…”
Last, but not least, we finally stop by Mrs. Carter’s home.
Her front door is ajar.
“…That’s…odd,” I hear Jones mutter. “You think we should just…enter?”
As we step into the front yard, I can vaguely recognize the sound of clattering coming from inside the house.
Oh, that’s certainly not good. We exchange a concerned glance, and I make the first move. I head forward and trod inside, wiping my shoes on the “welcome” may to avoid trekking dirt everywhere.
The clattering’s coming from upstairs.
“…Mrs. Carter?” I call.
A pause of nothing.
“…Mrs. Carter,” I say again, “this is Deputy Perez and Inspector Jones. We just came by to see how you were holding up-”
SMASH!!
Something shatters into pieces on the floor above us, causing us to flinch. I hear an incoherent voice yelling in frustration before the sounds of footsteps follow. Finally, as Jones walks up behind me, we both spot Mrs. Carter sprinting down the stairs, breathing heavily as she’s practically gripping the guardrail.
She at least seems…better than before? Her eyebags are lighter, and there’s only tears pinpricking in the corners of her eyes. Which…isn’t much of an improvement.
“Oh, officers!!” She shouts, rushing right at us, grabbing Jones by the shoulders, and throttling the crap out of him. “You’re just in time — you’ve gotta help me, please!!”
“Mrs. Carter, please, calm down!” I stammer out, managing to squeeze myself in between the both of them. “Take a breather and start from the top, alright? Remember what Jones told you before, breathe in, then out…”
She immediately takes my advice, sucking in air through her nose, then exhaling a shaky breath.
“Okay, good…repeat.”
She does. In, then out.
We do this a couple times before her shoulders finally relax, letting out one last quivering huff. “Augh, I am so sorry…” she whispers. “I…Inspector Jones, are you alright?”
Jones is trying to get his bearings together, but he manages to nod. “Hm? A-ah, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry-”
She nods. “Ah, alright…yes, that’s good, that’s good…”
She’s still pacing around the room, her eyes searching every little crevice they see.
Is she…looking for something?
“...You said you needed help, didn’t you?” I pipe up. “Do you need help?”
She snaps her fingers. “A-Ah, yes! My sweet baby girl is going to be buried soon, and I can’t find her baptism medal anywhere!!”
“Her baptism medal?” Jones inquires.
She nods, turning back to the stairwell. “Yes, her baptism medal! She needs to wear it for her eternal rest- I placed it in one of my drawers, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere!!”
His brow furrows. “Maybe you misplaced it somewhere else?”
“I think so,” she replies. “I turned over the entire bedroom, and it’s just not there…!”
Immediately, she bounds back up the stairs, disappearing around a corner.
We’re left at the bottom, staring at where she was. The sounds of rustling and crashing resurface once again above us, and Jones sighs. “I’ll go help her look for the baptism medal. How about you search around on this floor and see if she may have left it there?”
“Should I text you if I find it?” I question.
“Call or text, I don’t mind,” he replies as he goes over to the stairs. “From what I can tell, it’s at least somewhere in this house…”
…That’s a lot of ground to cover. Fortunately, though, I’ve covered larger. “...Don’t worry,” I declare, giving him a thumbs up. “I got this.”
He gives me a thumbs up and a grin in return. “That’s my partner.”
Once Jones headed upstairs, I started my search, scouring the entirety of the first floor for the medal.
The interior is…smaller and plainer than I expected. The living room only has a couch, some tables, and an ottoman as its furniture, and there’s a lamp placed on the floor in the corner. In the guest room, there’s a bed covered with sheets and pillows, a bedside desk, and a closet, but that’s it.
In fact, most of the rooms are completely organized…everything’s in place, like I just stepped into a newly cleaned hotel room.
And then I reenter the kitchen.
Everything is untouched from the last time Jones and I were here — the paper towel roll on the counter still on its side, the exact same dirty plates in the sink, that half-cooked fried egg still in the pan and starting to stink.
Well, almost everything’s untouched. First of all, from what I can tell, there’s a book missing from the stack of books leaning against a wall.
Did someone take it? I can’t help but wonder. I guess she probably moved something around, but I swear, last time checked, there was another book here-
-Oh, wait, no, Jones and I took in Jennifer’s diary as evidence, that’s why there’s a space. Never mind.
I shake my head. What if I return the diary to Mrs. Carter? She’d want that, wouldn’t she? I’m pretty sure it’s locked up in the evidence archives somewhere…No, Val. Focus. Focus on finding that baptism medal.
Second of all, from what I can tell, Mrs. Carter had duct-taped the fridge door shut like it was its own crime scene blocked off from the public. The roll’s still lying on the floor.
I can’t say she’s wrong for doing that.
I get down on my hands and knees and peek under the fridge, looking for anything suspicious.
There-! A glint of gold flashes in my line of sight. The crevice under the fridge is too small for my hand to fit – every time I try shoving my hand inside, my efforts turn out fruitless. It’s not like I can even reach it if my hand was smaller or the gap was bigger – the light is coming from farther inside.
How the hell can I reach it?
“TITI!!!” I whine, constantly trying to jam my hand under the mini-fridge. “TITI, I NEED HELPPP!!”
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “▇▇, what are you doing now?”
“I dropped a pencil and it rolled under the fridge!!” I pout, staring back up at her with watery, doelike eyes.
“Can’t you get a new one?”
“I like this pencil, and I want it back!”
“Tch, just get a new one at this point, muchachito. Try to reach there, and you’ll get your fingers chewed up by bugs. And you don’t want that, do you?”
“I-” I pout even harder. “-it’s my lucky pencil, though!! I need it for my homework, titi, or else I’ll get answers wrong!” I get down on my hands and knees, putting my hands together. “Pleaaaaseeeee?”
She scoffs, still staring down at me.
“...Fine. I’ll be right back.”
As I glance up, she’s already walking out of the room, and she comes back a moment later with some tape and a yardstick.
“Watch and learn, kiddo,” she declares with a smirk. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Some tape and a yardstick.
I look around the kitchen, snatching the roll of duct tape from the floor. Standing up, I see a spatula and some other utensils sticking out of the sink.
No yardstick. I guess I’ll make do with what I have…Hopefully, Mrs. Carter won’t mind what I have planned.
After a bit of…improvisation, I actually manage to pull out the item under the fridge.
…Or actually, what’s left of it. I can tell it’s a medal, but it’s shattered into a bunch of pieces.
My heart sinks into my gut. Oh, god. How in the hell-?
I peel off each piece from the tape and lay it on the floor, trying to make some sort of vague idea reminiscent of what it might’ve been before.
Aren’t baptism medals usually made up of pure gold or silver? What kind of metal snaps into this many pieces?!
It’s a medal, I’m sure of it, but the material is probably some sort of plastic coated in some sort of good-ish quality gold spray paint.
Metal or not, I can’t give it to Mrs. Carter like this, that’s for sure.
Her potential sobs of despair start ringing in my ears, and I shake my head.
I had some glue in my forensics kit, right? Maybe I can fix this —
I stand up, sprinting down the hall to get back to the cruiser. Go, Val, go! Go as fast as you can-
Lesson learned — with some quick-drying glue, a cotton swab, and some quick thinking, you can fix almost any small object if you’re okay enough.
And here I am, on my hands and knees, cleaning away any excess glue to make the cracks look at least a little less obvious.
It is a baptism medal, at least, so there’s that. Once I confirm to myself it looks good enough, I snap a picture of the front and back and send it to Jones.
Hey
Found this in the kitchen and fixed it up. Is this Jennifer’s medal?
Standing up, I stretch my back a little, waiting patiently for a response.
Looks like a baptism medal He texts back. Hold on, we’re coming downstairs
Right away, I hear the desperate pounding of footsteps as Mrs. Carter bounds down the stairs first, rushing right at me and the medal in my hands.
I immediately hand it to her, and she starts flipping it around over and over in her palm, squinting right down at it.
“...Mrs. Carter?” Jones calls at her as he saunters up to us. “So, is that medal your daughter’s?”
“I- I…” Her breath is rapid, refusing to relax at all. “I-it looks like it, yes, but her older sister has the same…” She keeps flipping the medal over and over, the huffs coming out of her lungs becoming more and more rapid. “The…the birthdate! I CAN’T READ THE BIRTHDATE-!!”
Uh oh. “Do you need me to decipher it for you?” I offer, holding out a hand. “I can figure it out…”
Jones nods. “Yeah, let Deputy Perez fix it for you, she’s pretty good at this, and she only has three cases under her belt.”
She nods, handing the medal to me. “I- okay, okay…do you need anything?”
I think for a moment. “1 piece of paper and a marker. I’ll get this done in no time, Mrs. Carter.” I give her a small, comforting smile.
And for the first time since the beginning of this case, her lips curve slightly into a slight smile of her own.
“...Thank you, Deputy.”
Honestly, I had no idea how to properly read the markings on the medal, so I spent most of this time squinting at it and trying to decipher the etchings into the back. However, considering everything Mrs. Carter’s gone through, giving up just seems cruel.
So I continue trying my best to make out as much as I can, one letter at a time.
April…Twelfth…Nineteen Ninety-Five.
…Did the priest really have to write out the date like that? My eyebrows are scrunched up as I look interchangeably between my writing and the medal on the counter.
I clear my throat. “...Mrs. Carter?”
She looks up from her hands. “Yes?”
“Is Jennifer’s birthdate ‘April 12, 1995’?”
Immediately, her expression lights up. “I…yes! Yes, it is!”
Wait, really?
I watch as Mrs. Carter swipes the medal and paper out of my hands, glancing between both and muttering to herself.
“Oh, yes…yes, this is her medal!!” Her lips are curved into a genuine, hopeful smile. She lets out a sob of relief, clutching the medal close to her heart. “Oh, thank you, thank you, officers!!”
Oh, thank goodness. Every single muscle in my body relaxes and I let out a sigh I didn’t even know I was holding in.
Jones gives me a small whistle. “Well, didn’t expect you to solve that so quickly…well, guess our job here is done, eh?”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess so.”
We start leaving the kitchen, Jones leading the way after a job well done.
Both our footsteps are almost dragging on the floor as we trudge our way back to the front door. I lean back, letting out a sigh as I stare up at the ceiling lights.
Finally. It’s all over. All I just need to do right now is get back to the station and take a break…
“Oh! Officers, um, one more thing!”
We both glance back at Mrs. Carter, now standing halfway out of the kitchen. She’s fidgeting with the medal in her fingers as she gazes at us.
“Hm?” Jones raises an eyebrow as he turns around. “Do you need anything else, Mrs. Carter?”
She clears her throat, placing the medal on the kitchen counter. “Hm…ah, yes. May I…treat you to something? Tea, perhaps?”
Oh?
Jones and I share a glance for a moment.
She itches the back of one of her arms awkwardly. “I’d offer coffee, too, but I can’t find the machine anywhere for some reason…”
Jones purses his lips. The look he gives me is one I somehow understand immediately, and I turn back to her.
“...I don’t see why not.”