Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Game of Revenge ❯ Chapter 13

Jack woke up on his living room floor with no recollection of how he had arrived there. This seemed to be happening a lot recently, probably because of the whiskey. He got to his feet and winced, a sharp pain making itself known at the back of his head. Definitely the whiskey. He washed his face, dressed, and then made his way to work. When he got there, everything was in chaos. People were rushing everywhere, all talking at once, phones ringing, papers flying, and Jack had to weave through the mob to the secretary's desk.

“What's going on?”

She looked up at him on the verge of tears. “Oh, it's awful; I don't know how it happened… How to tell you…”

“What happened, Bertha?!” Jack snarled.

“It's Allison… She's dead. They just found her body, and oh it's just so horrible! You can hardly recognize her anymore…” She then collapsed into noisy sobs, and Jack stormed on past her and down to Russell's office.

“Russell, get your field kit, we're going to the crime scene.”

“Jack, I think there are enough people down there already.”

“All the better reason to go now, before those idiots can ruin any evidence that may be left. Let's go.”

There was blood everywhere. Russell had finally agreed to come with him and had had to turn aside to gag for a moment before he could look back at the gruesome scene before them. Allison Douglas's body had been slashed and stabbed multiple times, with deep cuts along her arms and face. The knife was missing, and her blood had drawn a deep garnet path from both the corner of her slightly open mouth and the single gunshot wound that lay directly between and just above her blank, staring eyes.

“Shot execution style, and the knife wounds occurred before she was killed.” Russell observed, still a bit pale, but steady.

“Have we found anything?” Jack inquired, gesturing at the officers who had arrived at the scene first.

“Nothing. Both murder weapons are gone, no prints, no hair. They want us to look it over, see if there's anything else.”

Jack nodded. “Figures. Well, let's clean this up, get some samples…has anyone called the coroner?”

“He's on his way, not that there's any real need to do an autopsy, it's pretty clear how she died.”

“One can never be too certain, Russell.”

“Well, of course.” He replied indignantly. “I just meant…oh never mind.”

They then scoured the body and surrounding area for any trace of evidence a killer might have left behind. When the coroner came and took the corpse off to be examined, Jack hailed a cab to take him and Russell back to headquarters.

“Who did kill her, I wonder.” Jack voiced over the clatter of hooves and wheels on stone. “I mean, she wasn't quite the nicest woman I've ever met, she had her issues, but who would want to kill her?”

“It's a tough world out there, Jack. It was probably just some mugging that went wrong.”

“But think about it, Russell. Those wounds, accompanied by the shooting, seem to have more structure to them than if her death had just been random. Someone wanted her dead, I'm certain of it.”

Russell gazed out the window. “Well, I suppose we can look into the possibility. Anyways, we're here.”

They got out of the cab, paid the driver, and entered the building.

“Russell, you take what we found downstairs, I'm going to check on something.”

“Alright Jack, call me if you need me.”