A Different Kind of Storybook

Peter, Morgue, 530 p.m.

Peter came back in and pulled his gloves off, throwing them in the garbage can. He put his hands on his hips and walked up to a different body.

A voice came from behind him, "What makes you think all of these are from one killer?" Peter turned fully to see a pretty girl. She was shorter than him and her peircing blue eyes seemed very confident. She introduced herself as Charly De Luca. Peter shook her hand but didn't give her his name in return.

She went around and pointed out that all of the victims were killed in diferent ways and suggested it couldn't be the same killer. She did it all in a very matter of fact, know it all way so Peter couldn't help but argue.

"Just because they are killed different ways doesn't mean we should rule out the fact that they weren't killed by the same person. Maybe the killer likes to see people in pain, likes to kill? Maybe he doesn't want to do it the same way every time? If you ate the same thing every day wouldn't you get bored of it?" Peter talked in a very even tone, using his hands to talk at appropriate times.

She nodded, "But that's different-"

Peter cut her off, still keeping his tone even, "No it's not. The Black Fox kills like it's his job. Maybe it is, we don't know, but it's obvious he likes it on some level, he enjoys it. He also enjoys the publicity he is getting. You have to remember that the Black Fox is a sick criminal, and his mind works different than everybody elses. He doesn't worry about whether it's right or wrong."

Everybody in the room probably thought he was crazy now. They all looked at him with odd expressions. He had studied the criminal mind in college, a lot. It was his specialty really. And it had helped him catch quite a few criminals. Knowing where someone is coming from makes it a lot easier to figure out where they are going. Figuring out their mental state and train of thought makes them vulnerable.

"I just think we shouldn't rule anything out yet, we don't know too much right now. Unless we can be absolutely sure we should keep our options open." Peter finished, "Excuse me for a second please." His phone was vibrating again.

((Alanna Kozachuk- Morgue- 5:32 P.M.))

Alanna scratched at Akellah's ear absently, listening to Peter's reasoning. He made sense but he'd missed a vital piece to his puzzle.

Sound could be heard from his phone, faint and feminine. Peter exchanged a few brief words and cut the conversation off by snapping the phone and sliding it into his pocket.

"You've missed something." Alanna stated simply.

Peter didn't respond at first but after no one said anything he looked around him then at Alanna who met his gaze. Removing her hand from Akellah she slid over to the first body. She reached into her pocket, extracted a pair of rubber gloves, put them on, and set on turning the corpse on its side. Alanna held it with one hand and motioned for everyone to see with the other.

Peter closed in first, then the new woman and the rest fell in to see what was to be shown. A small fox rearing was burnt onto the victims right shoulder. Peter squatted to get a better look, tracing the fox with his hand. Maijorie pushed her way in, kneeling next to Peter. She examined the fox with him.

"Did we find out what kind of metal was used?" She asked without much enthusiasm, as if she expected that to be the first thing done.

Alanna shook her head. "I've taken a sample and have it running through my computer at base. It should be done late tomorrow or early the day after."

"So how is this supposed to lead you to believe that the Black Fox killed all of these victims?" Charly asked the question but she already knew the answer.

Alanna decided to show her anyway. She let the body fall gently onto the table and move toward the second. She lifted it up to show her the second victims shoulder. This time two foxes were burnt into the flesh, showing the second victim. Three were burnt into the next and so on.

"This is how we know." Alanna said, letting the last body fall.

Samuel Andrews (Drew Harlow to everyone except Isabella); The Morgue; 5:40pm

Sam moved closer to the body in front of him, running a gloved finger over the abrasion with interest. The woman's shoulder was slender and pale. She was the second rape victim.

"And you didn't think to share something so crucial with us?" Maijorie asked. Is that girl trying to be disruptive? Sam wondered irritably. He tilted the right shoulder to the side and then leaned in closer, his forehead wrinkling into a frown.

"She shouldn't have needed to," Charly said, walking further into the room. "How could any of you miss that?" Sam paid her little heed, mentally noting 'theatrical attention seeker' beside her name in his head.

"Take a look at this," Sam said absently, nudging Peter but catching the attention of the entire room. Peter leaned a little closer to the body, a look of distaste across his face as he observed the burn.

"What am I looking for?" he wondered. Sam made no response. Peter looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow before taking another glance at the body. And then he saw it. There, where the burn caught the light, a line of faded finger-prints.

Sam nodded as Peter stared and then pulled the sheet down further to reveal the naked, violated lower torso. Sam nodded, satisfied.

"What have you found?" Alanna asked.

"These marks," Sam explained pointing at the finger prints.

"They're only partials. They came back blank," Alanna explained.

"Yes but look. They've made a mark across the burn and I'm pretty sure that if you run some more tests, you'll discover that the sexual violation took place after the onset of rigamortus."

"So you're saying..." Conner's eyes were wide.

"That this woman was raped quite some time after death. So we're either looking at one sick murderer or there's a shadow," Sam said.

"Shadow?" Kenya echoed. Sam nodded.

"A man who's in awe of the Black Fox most likely, who's following this case one step closer than us and is getting off on these killings, who just couldn't help himself. He's probably the sort of man who wants to make a mark but isn't bold enough to do it himself." There were grim faces all around.

"Is that respect for the Black Fox's bravery?" Ray snorted.

"No," Sam said simply.

"So what do we do?" Conner wondered.

"Send off for the tests," Alanna decided. "But the Black Fox is our priority. If there is indeed a shadow, we just have to hope that he doesn't find any bravery any time soon. He has to be second priority."

_________________________
There we go. How's that Bella? Good with you Black Fox?

*I didn't see Kitty15's post until after I posted this, and she already took the idea for someone working under him. So I'll edit this*

[Maijorie Gensitine - the morgue - 5:42 PM]

I wanted to rip his head off. He took the words right out of my mouth before I even got a chance to say anything. It took all my will power not to explode, I hated it when this sort of thing happened. They put with with this group just to bug me... I bet all the SIS back in Rome are laughing it up right now. They know I hate partnering with other other people!

"What about an accomplice? Someone that's working under the Black Fox and just doing his dirty work?" I asked blankly. "Or maybe there's not even a "Black Fox" and it's actually a group of people that's called themselves this."

"Well we'll know when we get the fingerprints back." Sam replied nonchalantly.

"Of course, it was just a idea anyway." I said as calmly as possible, hoping I wasn't foaming at the mouth.

Peter, Morgue, 5:45

Peter kept his right hand clenched in a fist. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to touch the body, with out his gloves on, but now he was distracted. His index finger was wrapped inside his other fingers. It was an obsession, a fear. He had always been like this, afraid of germs that is.

When he was younger he would wash his hands until they bled. Now he couldn't stop focusing on the hand that had touched the dead body. It felt so unclean. He was getting antsy and needed to get out of the room. He rapped his fisted hand against his leg in impatience. He just really wanted to wash his hands.

"Alright, I don't think there is much else we can do here. We have to wait for the tests and then we'll work from there." Peter said, almost in a rushed tone. The others nodded and Peter was the first out the door.

When he got outside into the cool night air he took a deep breath. The others followed behind shortly. Some began to hail cabs.

"I think I'll walk." Peter said, to no one in particular. Some looked at him oddly. He couldn't sit in a cab, not now. He wasn't sure where the others were going, but he knew where he needed to go.

There was bar just down the cobble toned road. He briskly walked towards it and headed straight for the bathroom. He washed his hands and felt relief. He was angry at himself for having this fear, this weakness. He splashed some water on his face then stared into the mirror, "Get a hold of yourself." He said to his reflection, but just got more angry.

Peter stepped back outside and decided to head for the hotel.

*sorry if that was confusing, it's really hard to describe what that feels like. The whole germaphobia thing, but it sucks, believe me.*

Milo Barton - Venice, Italy (On route to Crime Scene) - October 14 2008 - 5:50 PM

Those who had been left behind instead of going to examine the victims were piled into two taxis and driven halfway across town. A light rain began to fall once they were halfway there, tapping the hood of the vehicle with impatient fingers.

Milo was wedged between the woman named Isabella and another who he quickly learned was Melanie Travis. In the front passenger seat was another man who offered the name Eric Shields in quite tones. The only two people who were talking were the driver and Melanie.

After what seemed to take hours to Milo, they arrived outside an old abandoned church in a quiet, run-down area of the city. He cast a wary glance around as he stepped out of the car, as if whoever had committed whatever crime awaited behind the wooden doors sealed with yellow caution tape still lurked in the shadows. A faint breeze rose, causing the leaves of an old tree growing next to the dark building to sway and rustle. Milo tensed.

Isabella stepped out of the taxi after him and glanced around as well. From the other taxi emerged Seul, who waved them all towards the church. "The crime scene is inside. Follow me."

With another glance to the shadows, Milo had no choice but to obey.

Isabella Milan - Church Crime Scene - October 14th, 2008, 5:52 pm

I was reluctant to enter the crime scene. As much as I loved my job, entering a crime scene like this always seemed to frighten me.

"We haven't been here for the past four days, we've been so busy planning for your arrival," Seul was saying, walking backward so he could see all of our faces.

Melanie was the first to notice and, being unprepared, she let out a loud, high-pitched scream.

It was almost a chain reaction - the moment she screamed, every other officer in the room had a hand gun out, and they were all looking around carefully.

I noticed the body next, and began stepping forward.

"It's Claire!" I exclaimed at once, seeing her body lying in a heap on the floor at the front of the church. I recognized her from the picture that was put in our files.

"What?" Seul stepped forward, concern spreading across his face. "How did she get here?"

I ran forward, ahead of the others, and knelt beside Claire. I pulled on my gloves, which I routinely kept in my pocket, and began feeling her body.

"She's been dead for about...three days now, I think. No less than two. The rigamortus has thoroughly kicked in," I touched her neck. "Her throat was slit."

My cell phone rang. Pulling off one glove, I answered it. Sam spoke softly, and I nodded in response, lifting Claire's body to look at her shoulders.

"There's another victim at the church," I said, noticing the fox shaped burn mark in her right shoulder.

________________________________________________________________

I am hoping I have my information and stuff at least partially right. I tried to look up some stuff on rigamortus, but had pretty much no luck.

Peter, walking, 5:53-

As Peter walked down the road rain began to fall more steadily. He didn't care at this point how wet he got. Most likely he would just go back to the hotel and sleep. His cell phone rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, squinting at the bright screen to read a number he didn't know.

"Hello?"

"Peter, come to the church."

"Who is this?" He said as the line went dead. Peter shrugged and changed course so he was headed towards the church. It seemed to loom in the darkness, Peter never was one for religion.

There were police cars outside, their lights flashing annoying red and blue. The police line was up and he could see the others standing at the door. He knelt down under the tape and was stopped by a young police officer.

"Hey, voi can' la t entra qui!" The police officer said, you can't come in here.

Peter smiled politely and pulled out his badge and responded, "È giusto, io sono con loro," it's okay, I'm with them. And he pointed to the others at the door. The officer nodded and stepped aside.

Peter walked up to Alanna, "Hey, whats going on?"

[Maijorie Gensitine - Church - 6 PM]

My feet made soft thuds against the damp ground, a ligh rain dripping on my head. The clouds looming over us were dark and slow, showing barely any sign of light from the sun. I took out my cellphone quickly and checked the time, 'Bout six.

Out of the courner of my eye I caught Peter walk into the scene and up to Alanna. It looked like he was talking to her, but I didn't pay enough attention to really see or not. My arms crossed against my chest, the air and rain starting to dot little goose bumps on me. I guess fishnetting with a speggetti-strap t-shirt under it wasn't the best idea... Drew Harlow stood a few feet away from me, walking up the steps to the church doors.

"Harlow," I called out through my teeth, trying desperately to keep my cool when talking to him. "What's goin' on here?"

Samuel Andrews (Drew Harlow to everyone except Isabella); The Church; 6:05pm

"We've got another body," Sam explained, pausing on the steps as Maijorie ducked under the tape and reluctantly approached him. He started walking again when she was at his side and said quietly: "It's Claire. The missing member of the VPD." Sam felt Maijorie tense at his side but to her credit, she didn't falter.

"And where did you get all this inside information from?" Maijorie asked bitterly.

"We're a team, Maijorie. Isabella's SIS too so we shared information and then I called you. Come on, she's inside and the others won't be far behind." He strode on, entering ahead of her as he made a mental note to ask everyone for their phone numbers. Particularly Charly. He couldn't afford to leave a member of the SIS out of the loop.

Sam discreetly bobbed his head in the direction of the alter. He'd never been religious but he liked churches; they were sanctuaries. There was a quiet, peacefulness about their interiors that even the crumpled body could not disperse. The hair was dark and matted with blood.

"Have the forensics been in yet?" Sam asked, surprised that Isabella was already inspecting the corpse. Alanna nodded.

"Of course," she said.

"Where's the photographer?" Sam asked. Alanna pointed across the rows of uniform, wooden pews, towards the other end of the church where a huddle of people were just visible, about to enter the vestry.

"Looking at possible entrances and exits," Alanna explained. Sam nodded.

"Anyone else want a set of the photos?" He set off, planning to ask for copies for everyone when Peter said:

"I'll come too. I wouldn't mind checking out this alternate exit." Sam nodded and looked to Maijorie but she shook her head, much more interested in seeing the body.

Isabella Milan - The Church - 6:08 pm

As more and more people showed up, all of them from the investigation, we began to split up, finding jobs to occupy ourselves.

"Have the forensics been in yet?" Sam asked, kneeling at my side.

"Of course," I replied, still examining the body. More people were wanting to look now, but I was in the way, and had no intention of moving until I had enough evidence of my own. I heard Sam mentioned entrances, giving me another thought of something that needed to be checked. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him back down to my side.

"Make sure someone is checking for fingerprints," I said, making sure that, at the least, he heard me clearly. For some reason I felt it would be better to keep our information between he and I, until we had more to share, or good reason to share it - he seemed to feel the same way, from the way he had acted earlier. "He had to come in and out, and there's a chance that he left his fingerprints on a door or window when doing so."

"Good thought," Sam nodded, getting to his feet.

"Do we know how she was killed?" someone else asked, stepping forward. I didn't bother to look up, or see who it was.

"Her throat was slit..." I examined the floor where her feet were lying. They had scuffed slightly, leaving marks. "She had been standing about here," I pointed. "She was either grabbed from behind, so she wouldn't see the attackers; in which case there should be blood spatter in that general direction," I waved my arm. "And she should have some bruising on her body, assuming she struggled. Otherwise, she was grabbed from the front, which would cause the person who killed her, the Black Fox, to have gotten blood on his clothing..."

I trailed off, still thinking. I looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor. From the way it laid, slightly uneven, I assumed someone had to of stepped in it. Maybe we have a footprint... I thought, keeping the thought to myself for the time being.

[Maijorie Gensitine]

I watched Sam until he disapeared then stepped up to Isabella and the body of one of the VPD. She doesn't look very familiar to me, I thought, pausing for a moment. "Do we know how she was killed?" I questioned, kneeling beside the body.

Isabella didn't look up. "Her throat was slit... She had been standing about here," she pointed towards a spot on the floor a feet or so away. "She was either grabbed from behind, so she wouldn't see the attackers; in which case there should be blood spatter in that general direction. And she should have some bruising on her body, assuming she struggled. Otherwise, she was grabbed from the front, which would cause the person who killed her, the Black Fox, to have gotten blood on his clothing..."

I waited for her to say something else, but it looked like she was deep in thought. Pools of blood lay around the corpse, one, in particular a little more uneven than the others. A sort of shoe shape dipped into it, but there were no others arond it. So the chances of a print being found didn't seem so likely.

"Has anyone checked for footprints yet?" I asked anyway, looking over to Isabella. "Or one of those fox burns like the ones on the corpses at the morgue?"

((Alanna))

"There is one." Alanna guessed as she snapped a picture before moving the body. Sure enough a fox was stamped onto her right shoulder.

"As for footprints, you, Isabella, and I could start looking." Alanna let her camera fall. No one ever sent her copies of pictures so she took her own which she knew she knew she could depend on. Squatting Alanna shuffled along the floor, searching for the footprints she knew she wouldn't find. The Black Fox was always too careful.

Snap! Alanna turned her head calmly to see one of the newbies to the force step something. He looked up sheepishly and lifted his foot. Glass was strewn around his foot. Alanna's eyebrows gathered in confusion. She stood and quickly closed the distance between herself and the glass. Her eyes scanned the glass carefully and moved to the area around it.

"Where did this glass come from?"

The newbie looked to his superiors at first. "Umm... I'm not sure, ma'am. I was just going to the, um, body and I didn't see it."

Maijorie came up behind Alanna. "Brown?" She paused to search the church with her sharp eyes. "There aren't any brown windows here."

Obviously. Alanna thought. "It's probably from a beer bottle."

"Then where's the rest of it?" Peter had come back into the group from when he'd left after Alanna's explanation.

"Good question. Why don't we all go look for a broken bottle?"

Alanna scoffed. "Waste of time. Alanna will continue taking her pictures, I'll look for the bottle and the rest of you keep looking.