Chapter Twenty-two
1136 Words
Back at the Police Station--
With it being the end of a long day we, with the exception of Miss Mason, gathered back at our desks. Guess what's sitting on my desk again? Another mysterious package.
“Well, that was an education,” Roger remarked breaking the awkward silence. “Education, you know, cause it was at a college.” He drummed his fingers on one of the desks. Cue the eye rolls!
Sitting at my desk and being tired, I absent-mindlessly opened the gift. I reached in and grabbed the contents. I quickly regretted it. The searing pain from the silver-filled wolf head key chain hurt like hell. Sad that I can't use it. It's a nice-looking wolf head.
“Ow, what the--,” I reacted.
“You okay, Sergeant?” the Chief asked surprising me.
“Yeah, I'll be fine,” I mumbled.
“So, what did you find out?” he inquired with all seriousness.
“It's a three-day wait or longer for any results,” Cass promptly informed him.
“And that Professor Patrick Bryant holds animosity toward both the Sergeant and Miss Grimm,” Roger noted.
“What the hell has that got to do with the investigation?” I snapped at him. I shouldn't have responded that way. Between the damn gifts and the long work shifts, I feel like hell warmed over.
“Well, it shows that getting any other important information from him would pose to be a major hurdle,” he simply stated with his usual cockiness. Dammit! I hate admitting it, but he's right. He may be a pain in the ass, but he knows his stuff. Getting any other info from him will be a challenge at least for me.
“Okay, so any other intel you need from Professor Bryant. Officers Oren and Harper will be the ones to deal with him,” the Chief gave the order. Works for me. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Not really. We'll just make sure to have it in our reports,” Cass spoke up.
“Sounds good. Keep up the good work. I'll see everyone tomorrow,” he said dismissing us.
I shove the box with the key chain into the same bottom drawer to keep the other “gift” company. I really hate getting these unexpected gifts. Is someone out to get me? But who? And why? Now isn't the time to let my mind wander. I need to stay focused on the case. I owe it to the victim Peter Bryant. This reminds me of a sign Doc Jacobson has in his office. It's a quote from Voltaire, “To the living we owe respect, but to the dead, we only owe the truth.” I rub my face both out of frustration with my own predicament and just out of plain old tiredness.
As we were all exiting, I noticed that the Chief has pulled George and Roger to the side to privately talk to them. I hope it's nothing too serious. Since I'm in a hurry to leave, I reach George's vehicle before him. I still need groceries. I hope my body is up to the task. I suddenly feel exhausted, so I lean up against his car. I'm too young to be acting this way. I'm so tired that I fold my arms on top of his car and place my head down while I wait.
Trees. Trees are everywhere. Oak. Ash. Firs and pines. Recognition. I recognize this place. The familiar forest floor is covered with old fallen dried leaves. Breathe in. I breathe in the freshness of my surroundings. Sobs. I hear it, crying off in the distance. I slowly make my way toward the sound. A girl. A little girl is sitting on a log and sobbing. Eyes. I see them, two amber color eyes piercing through the shadows from under the foliage...
“Mike! Mike,” I hear my name being called shaking me out of my brief slumber.
“Ha, what?” I mumbled.
“You okay?” George asked with a serious look in his eyes. Both of us got into his car.
“Yeah, sure. It's just been a long day,” I lied to explain away my tiredness. “Why?”
“You look like s**t, Mike,” George stated frankly. Truthfully, I feel like s**t.
“So what did the Chief talk to you about?” I asked quickly changing the subject.
“Well, you'll be seeing a lot more of Roger and me. We've been promoted to detectives,” he said. “Apparently, Emerson and Deeks both handed in their resignation letters.”
“Damn. Two more good detectives bite the dust. Jabberwocky strikes again.” I muttered. “Great, so we'll be handed their cases in a matter of time. And you wonder why I look like s**t?” I smirked. “Welcome to the s**t club.”
“Ha-ha, thanks,” he laughed sarcastically.
Before I even realized it, we were pulling into my drive. I immediately notice what is sitting on my stoop. It is a large box of groceries. George and I exchanged meaningful glances.
“I may have mentioned your need to the Chief earlier,” he admitted with a goofy grin.
Across town--
A very tired and grumpy Hanna makes her way back up the rickety steps to her apartment. But before she can even climb the last stairs, she is blocked by a large intimidating male.
“Knapelli, I'm not in the mood for your shenanigans. Please, move out of my way,” she growled.
“Aw, what's the matter? Little Miss Grimm is cold, tired, and hungry,” he taunted showing his yellowed teeth through his threatening grin.
“I said, move, Knapelli,” she yelled again a light glinted from her hand. Knapelli looked down a saw a knife in her hand. Damn. It was that same knife that gave him his limp. The knife is a medium size pocket. It has a wolf's head in the foreground and a moon, mountain range, with a river carved into the handle. She always has this on her person.
Knapelli put up both hands in defense and moved out of her way. She's not getting away that easily. He follows her to her hovel. She unlocks her door and goes inside. Knapelli is right behind her inside her home.
Grabbing the back of her neck with one of her hands, she turns to Knapelli and sighs, “What is it you want, Eugene?! Get the hell out.” She is still holding the knife.
“I told you to never call me that!” he growled at her. His eyes, one green one brown, flickered with anger behind them.
- Writer
