Bloodthisty

Chapter Four




Blake adjusted his tie and scanned the dark precinct’s parking lot. He was tired and edgy. Too many hours chasing shadows had put them under his eyes. He squinted as a breeze caused a small box to slide across the pavement before tipping and rolling as only a square could roll. It thumped along the pavement propelled by the elements. Blake could have sworn it was moving with intent in his direction. He thought about walking toward it. Save the time and trouble of the extensive quest in the small item’s future. Yet, he didn’t move forward. He stood in the dark parking lot staring at a small box blowing in the soft breeze. He laughed as it blew past his boots and continued on its way.

“That could have been wicked.” he said aloud, imagining how cool it would have been if the box had stopped at his feet. Still it seemed odd. As it had rolled past he noticed a green ribbon tied with a large bow. The box itself seemed simple, old cardboard. Maybe something a small trinket would come in. He looked around at the parking lot. A half o’ dozen cars remained, no one around to drop anything and it was late. He glanced at his watch, after midnight.

“Man oh man, do I need to get a life outside of work.”

Again he looked at the box. It had stopped its movement across the pavement and now sat illuminated by a small beam of light at the corner of the parking lot. Eerie.

As he approached the object, it became clear that this was something special. The green ribbon wasn’t ribbon at all but an iridescent tube. The bow had been built in some factory from the ordinary fare that would eventually be sold as a small Christmas ornament. Someone had used hot glue or super glue to apply it to the tubing. The cardboard was covered in dark lines; he couldn’t tell exactly what they were, maybe marker.

He bent and took a closer look, suddenly fascinated by it. The lines appeared to intersect in several different places. He reached inside of his coat pocket and pulled out a latex glove, slipped it on his left hand and carefully picked up the box. It was heavier than he had imagined and as he turned it there was a subtle feeling of liquid inside.

He stood and quickly went back into the building. On his way in he looked to his left and right, taking in as much of the street as possible. He had been contemplating the mysterious item for only a few minutes; still the person or persons who had placed it in the parking lot of his precinct were long gone.

He took the stairs hoping to avoid those nosey graveyard guys, still in the bag, or as the civilians like to say, chained to the patrol car. Whether using cop slang or civilian speak, it all shook out the same. Sometimes the bitterness and jealousy could get very old. Blake was young for a detective. He was thirty nine, although he appeared to be at least ten years younger, a curse instead of a blessing. Blake spent the better part of his career proving himself. Yet, he continued to do things that puzzled those around him and made it harder for people to take him seriously. Making jokes at inappropriate times, talking just a little too fast when dealing with a suspect. Then there were his ties. Every day for three years he had dressed for success. Shined black leather police issue boots, black or dark blue suit, cut to fit. A slick and ironed shirt usually in burgundy or blue, but occasionally he’d fall into the status quo and wear white. But his ties were always the sticking point.

Blake had a collection of over six hundred ties. They ranged from Batman to Mickey Mouse. He had collectors’ ties and ties that he’d tripped across in Wal-Mart.

The collection had started his first day as detective. As a joke he wore a Superman tie and it had gotten such a good response he wore a Batman tie the next day. Soon girlfriends were buying him ties and people he hardly knew were adding to the collection. Now he had the wonderful capacity to wear a different tie every day. He thought of it as his mutant super power.

Standing in his office looking down at the small box on his desk, Blake considered his responsibilities and weighed them against his curiosity. After all, there really wasn’t anything sinister about the box other than its simple existence. Otherwise it was just a found item. He shook his head and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. Covering his ass wasn’t a new experience. As he dialed he wondered at his choice. He smiled as a female voice made itself clear on the end of the line.

“Fuck, Robin. What do you want? I’m sleeping!”

He knew she’d be asleep and the satisfaction of waking her was apparent in his next words. “No kidding? I thought you’d be up training your flying monkeys.”

“Ha, Ha! You’re so goddamned funny! WHAT DO YOU WANT?” she yelled into the phone.

He pulled the phone quickly away from his ear and laughed. It was amazing that while she was bitching a blue streak, he was picturing her in her tiny white underwear and silky tank top. Of course he had no way of knowing she was wearing that particular outfit. Yet, he would always remember her the way she was the last time he had walked out of her bedroom - her short hair a mess, one strap falling off her shoulder and sparks of blue fire shooting from her eyes. He imagined those sparks flying from her eyes now. Enough time had passed, he’d finally moved past the anger and into acceptance. Now as he listened to her bitch and moan, all it brought from him was mild amusement.

“Honey, I found a box. I want to open this box and I don’t want to wait around till morning. I don’t want to call in forensics until I’m sure it’s not a box of candied walnuts someone dropped by accident.” He waited, half expecting her to comment on the use of the word ‘honey’. She didn’t.

"Do you think it is walnuts?” she asked.

“No” he stated flatly.

“Why?” She was intrigued now. He could tell by how monosyllabic she had become. No quip, no diatribes, she was curious.

So he told her the simple truth. “I have several reasons but the most important is it’s making the hair on the back of my arms stand up.”

She made a noise that sounded like a snort.

“Hey!” he said, insulted

“Fine, stop whining. I’m getting dressed.”

“Don’t do anything drastic,” he teased.

“Tell me Robin, have you always been such a funny guy?”

Before he could come back with some witty repartee he heard the distinctive disconnect loud in his ear. He sat down in his desk chair, rested his boots on his desk and stared at the mysterious thing resting on his desk.

Timber walked into the office of the Denver Police Department, flashed her badge and passed the patrolman behind the front desk.

The elevators faced the west side of the building. Instead of going in that direction she headed for the stairs, still feeling a little groggy and in need of a heart rate boost. She took the stairs two at a time, kicking up endorphins and sharpening her mind.

As much as she loved to give Robin Blake a hard time, it was all for show. He was a good cop and she knew it. There were valid reasons for his success in the department. He trusted his gut. She had seen him get flack for it, had seen him press the issue and come out of a pile of shit smelling like chocolate ice cream with a cherry on top.

Tonight he had found something. Something that she would have dismissed had anyone else called in the middle of her slumber, especially to come look at a box.

As she ran up the four floors she felt more energized and could actually feel her synapses start to fire. Her mind was sharpening. She pushed open the door from the stairwell. As she heard the door close behind her she looked around at the empty offices.

Memories of different times washed over her. She quickly shook those thoughts away and walked directly to Robin Blake’s office. As she walked in she didn’t mince words.

“Okay, Blake, show me!” She put her fists on her hips and took a defiant stance.

“What happened to ‘Robin’?” he asked, swinging his feet off the desk and standing.

She lifted her shoulders and shook her head.” Too personal, we’re working now.”

“We weren’t working on the phone?”

“I was half asleep. Don’t make a thing.” She slipped too easily into a comfortable place with this man. The last thing she wanted to do was admit that.

He smiled knowingly and shrugged “Ok. I like Blake better anyway. Especially the way it rolls off your tongue.”

That was exactly what she needed. Irritation flooded her. “Oh fuck off, Blake!” She put the emphasis on his name, practically spitting it. “Get to it, show me the damn box and let’s see if we’re going to be intrigued or if we’re going to be eating fancy walnuts.”

“I’m hoping for the nuts.” he said, staring down at the box.

“Me too,” she said. “Let’s go.”

They both slipped on latex gloves. She opened her kit and pulled out a small vile, two baggies, and a sheet of plastic. Blake lifted the box and placed it on the plastic sheet. He took a small pair of snips and cut through the green plastic tube.

A hissing sound emanated from the small opening and they both took a step back,

“A gas?” he queried.

“No… Smells like…” She paused. “What is that smell? Man, it’s lilac.” she said triumphantly and grinned his way.

“Are you sure?”

The grin dropped away. “Come on. I’m not a big guesser. I’m a…”

He finished for her, “Pain in the ass?”

“My God, you just keep getting funnier. No. I’m a Knower.”

“That’s not even a word.” He shook his head, laughed out loud, and leaned in closer to the box. “You’re right, lilacs.”

“I told you… Knower.”

He ignored her and began opening the box, first carefully removing the tubing and bow then slowly removing the paper it was wrapped in. “I wonder why lilacs?”

“Well,” Timber said, staring down at his handiwork. “Maybe the walnuts are a gift and the recipient likes the fragrance of lilacs.”

“Maybe.” he mumbled.

“So if it’s walnuts we gonna eat ‘em?”

“I hate walnuts.”


Until tomorrow. Fortune favors the brave! Samantha Shu