Women And the Demons Who Love Them

Hiraeth-2

Slipknot- Duality 

    "So, did you pick?"

    "Are you kidding me? Why would you think that either one of these would make good partners for me?" Carter asked as she placed the files on his desk. The chief sighed rubbing his temples wondering where he had gone wrong in his life.

    Carter Madison had been an incredible cadet and then officer. She's now the best homicide detective on his force. He knew he had made the right decision when he hired her but the pain that came with her attitude drives him insane. He asks her for one thing and she always did the opposite or something that results in what he asked for along with a whole lot of unnecessary paperwork.

    "You actually read these thoroughly?" he asked her. She looked around the room annoyed that he had doubted she would.

    "Yeah, I did. You asked me to pick. What did you think I was going to do?" she snarked. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

    "In all honesty, I thought you were going to toss the papers in the air reach for one and go with what you caught?"

    Carter's mouth fell open and for a split second, the chief of police thought that he was going to see Carter Madison c***k a smile. Then she tightened her lips, let out an exasperated sigh, and shook her head. One can only be hopeful, he thought sitting straight knowing she's going to rip him a new one.

    "Why the f**k would I do that? Who makes a decision like that?" she asked calmly to his surprise. The chief scratched the back of his neck.

    "Madison, I have known you for a really long time now and I have no idea how it is that you make decisions. That's the closest thing I've ever come close to figuring you out,"

"That's not- I have two degrees in criminal justice and another in sociology and you think I make my decisions at random?"

    "I- you're- you know what? Forget it. What don't you like about these two?"

    "Hampton will cry every day in our time together and then he will quit and become a teacher. Carl Keneth is a literal clone of Sanders. If he comes here, I s**t you not. Those two will be best friends,"

    "I knew this was going to happen," the chief stood up. "What am I supposed to do with you? I can't transfer you to another city without stamping a warning label on you. You have a reputation, Madison,"

    "Chief, give me all the files that you have as candidates. Let me go through all of them," Carter answered. For the first time in a long time, she felt guilty.

    "That's not going to make a difference. There is always going to be an excuse,"

    "So, what? You're going to fire me?" she asked sitting up straight preparing herself.

    "Of course not. You leave me no choice though. This is your new partner," he reached for a binder sitting on top of his file cabinet and smacked it on the desk in front of her. She looked down at the binder and reached for it. "I'll make the call. He'll be here in a couple of hours,"

    "This is an FBI file," she said looking down at the engraving at the top of the plastic binder.

    "I know. Take your folder, sit at your desk, and if you complain you'll be on traffic duty for the next three months," she sighed getting up without saying a word. "It's time you learn some responsibility," 

    She glanced back to try and reason with him one last time. The chief put his hand up stopping her from saying anything else. He pointed towards her desk that is conveniently sitting right in front of his door. She sighed opening the door and then shut it behind her with so much force the glass framed by the wood shook.

    Carter sat in her desk looking at the fancy binder in front of her. Why the hell would an FBI agent come down here in need of a partner? She opened the binder and began to read through the information.

    "Special Agent Kaleb Wright. What did you do to deserve getting sent this way?" she asked herself. 

    There really wasn't much other than the fact that he is really good at his job. He's married, has two kids, veteran staff sergeant for the U.S. Marines. He's a f*****g golden boy. So why is he getting the boot? 

    "Hey," Carter looked up to see Officer Torres standing at the end of her desk with two coffee cups in her hands.

    "Torres?" she asked sitting back wondering what the woman wanted.

    Torres is a really good cop. Does things by the book, wants to make a difference. The only reason she hasn't made detective is because she's paired with an ass licking s**t head like Sanders, maybe worse. The woman is tall. Five feet ten or eleven inches high. She's built strong. Works hard to maintain her voluptuous shape. Those big brown eyes would probably get her whatever she wants, except the girl much rather beat someone than bat her eyes at them.

    "What Sanders said the other day," she began completely blindsiding Carter. "That's not the reason why we don't approach you. At least, me," she set down the coffee in front of her. "I don't know much about you but I know you're a good cop and that's all that matters to me,"

    Carter contemplated on telling her to take her coffee and stuff it down her throat, cup and all. She looked around to see others watching them. They wanted to see her humiliate the woman like she did everyone else. That little ping of guilt that lingered from disappointing the Chief made her reach for the coffee. Who passes up free coffee?

    "Thanks," she said sitting back.

    "Americano. two sugars," Torres informed her. "That's how you like it right?"

    Carter cleared her throat and nodded. Torres smiled at her knocking on her desk before walking off. Everyone kept their eyes on Carter. The chatter had even stopped. The only sound was coming from the old unoiled copy machine doing its job.

    "What the f**k are you all looking at?" she asked loud enough for all of them to hear.

    Immediately, everyone turned away and continued to go about their business. She looked down at the cup and wondered if Torres had spat in it. There would be no way in knowing if she had. Carter had already accepted the damn thing. Deciding it didn't matter she took a sip. It's perfect. So even if Torres had spit in it she'd enjoy this cup of Americano.

    "All you had to say was that you're not into d**k, Madison," Sanders scoffed, walking past her with a couple of other guys. They all laughed.

    "Oh, I am most definitely into d**k, Sanders. I just don't want a dried-up little peanut or so your ex-wife describes," she shot back making half the precinct laugh.

    "Sanders, in my office," the Chief called from inside his office. Sanders sighed excusing himself from his buddies. "Madison, finish filing your case. I want a finished report on my desk by the end of the day,"

    Carter opened the lower drawer of her desk and pulled out the large file she had put in it last week. She headed towards the back to put it in the filing box. She liked being back there anyway. It's quiet, it's not her empty house, people briefly come in and then leave, and there is no Sanders in there. He always has one of the rookies do his paperwork.

    She walked towards the back where all the closed case files are kept. She stood in the spot she's going to leave the box. She set the box meant to look like it was made out of wood on the metal shelf and couldn't shake the dark thoughts that came over her.

    This is it. This is what is left of those six poor boys who were brutally butchered by some sick ass woman who liked bathing in the blood of the innocent lives she was taking. She's sitting in a f*****g cell, alive, while these six lives were nothing more than a memory. Grief left behind heavily weighing over their families and the people these boys touched.

    This is the world we live in. She thought, pushing the box into place. She knows all too well what it is to be at the receiving end of monsters like this woman who she can't even name without having a brief mental breakdown. Carter remembers finding the fifth and the sixth body. The feeling that came over her to see these boys with their wrists and throats sliced open next to the metal tub she had used to bathe in.

    "Are those rose petals?" Alvares had asked. 

    "Madison, get your ass out here. I have someone for you to meet,"

    The Chief's voice boomed from the other side of the room scaring the holy crap out of her. She wiped her face, cleared her throat, and straightened herself out before walking out taking a few report sheets off the file organizers by the door.

    It's strange how this place, the building she had found herself in a few times as a teen, the building she had sat in when she became an orphan, the place she chose to come back to, this place is home now. There is no other place she rather be. From the rust-stained floors to the old beat-up wooden desks and offices. She loves it. If having to get along with some poor i***t who is probably going to tuck tail and bail in a hopefully near future, is what she needs to do to stay. She'll gladly do it. With one last deep breath, she knocked on the Chief's door.

    "Get in here, Madison," the chief called out from the other side of the door. She turned the knob and pushed the door open.

    "Chief Grover," she greeted as formally as she could. It even surprised him to see that she was going to play nice this time.

    "Close the door," she turned around and caught Torres' eye. The woman gave her a thumbs up and a tight smile. Carter looked at her like she had lost her damn mind."Madison, this is Special Agent Olivera,"

    "Good morning," Carter greeted, looking over the woman.

    Agent Olivera is a small petite woman in a cheap barely functional dark blue pantsuit. Her long hair is pulled back in a tight bun. Her demeanor screams fresh out of the military. Her dark tanned skin indicates she was stationed somewhere hot. The distant angry look in her eyes says she's seen some pretty screwed up s**t. Anger really doesn't become someone as small and as feminine as she is.

    "I'm Detective Carter Madison," Carter greeted her, extending her hand out for the tiny woman to take.

    "It is an honor to meet you. I've heard some pretty amazing stories," the woman greeted shaking Carter's hand. Carter looked over at the Chief who just smiled at her with what she thinks and hopes might be pride. "Congrats on closing the Roman case,"

    Carter wanted to backhand the little special agent for saying that. Except, the chief cleared his throat knowing all too well how she usually reacts to compliments on her cases. There is nothing to celebrate when it comes to six dead sixteen-year-olds. They're still dead. That monster had won. She had gotten what she wanted in their deaths.

    "This is Kaleb Wright. Your new partner," Chief Grover successfully grabbed Carter's attention.

    Behind Special Agent Olivera is Kaleb Wright sitting in the seat she herself has sat in many times ready to be scolded. The guy looks nothing like the golden boy in the file she had been given. He's basically reclining in the seat with his legs spread open like he's trying to relax. His head fell back and all Carter got as an acknowledgment is a nod before he turned away entwining his hands and then tapping his thumbs together impatiently on his chest.

    "Get your ass up, Wright. You're in enough s**t as it is," Special Agent Olivera demanded.

    Wright let out the longest most exasperated groan Carter had ever heard in her life. She couldn't help it, a grin stretched over her pearly white teeth and she laughed. She hadn't laughed in a very long time. At least, not like this. Chief Anthony Grover stared at her like she had lost her mind. This guy is an ass hole, she thought wholeheartedly.

    Wright got up looking Carter over. He looked away without saying anything. No compliment, no cheesy pickup line. In fact, he didn't seem to be interested in making any kind of remark. His indifference pleased her. She might even be okay with this if the guy wasn't a complete train wreck.

    "I shoulda picked the crybaby," she murmured. The chief finally gained his ability to speak again as he looked over at Carter.

    "He has the desk across from you. Why don't you show him around," it wasn't a question it's a clear demand. Carter opened the door and motioned Wright out the door. He sighed and walked out before she did, dragging his feet in the same manner teenagers do.

    "Where is your desk?" he asked her. She looked up at him.

    This is most definitely not the man in the file sitting on her desk. Those steel-gray eyes bore into her in a reflective way. A man who is married with children shouldn't look like that. He's wearing a suit in the picture she has in the file. It didn't show past his torso. This man is covered in tattoos, his haircut is very unprofessional, and his clothes scream: 'I might be in a biker gang' or 'I might just be an asshole'.

    "This is my desk. That one is yours," she answered going over to her desk.

    "Your desk is right in front of the Chief's office?" he asked amused.

    "He likes to keep an eye on me. I don't play well with others," she shrugged. He sat at his desk and turned the office chair all the way around to look at her.

    "You don't play well with others?"

    "No,"

    "Aren't you supposed to be showing me around?"

    "File room," she pointed in one direction. "Restroom and lockers," she pointed in a different direction. "Assholes," she pointed at the lower level where the officers all were. "Internal affairs is on the second floor along with the science freaks," she pointed behind her. "Holding cells," she pointed at Sanders' desk. "That desk belongs to the biggest piece of s**t you will ever meet. That," she said pointing at Torres. "Is probably the only other person in this department who does her job right. Her name is Torres,"

    "What's her last name?"

    "Torres,"

    "What's her first name?"

    "How the f**k should I know?" 

He chuckled looking around."Your name is Madison Carter?"

    "No, My name is Carter Madison,"

    "So, your parents gave you a boy name as a first name and a girl name as a last name?"

    "Yes," she answered, looking up at him already wanting to punch the f**k in the face. If this is going to work she's going to have to babysit this f*****g guy.

    "Cool. I mostly answer to Wright,"

    "I answer to Madison," he nodded turning around to look at his desktop. The screen saver bounced an animated badge around changing its color ever time it hit the edge of the screen. He just sat there watching it and did nothing else. He didn't move the office chair around.

    After a few minutes, Special Agent Olivera asked him to go back into the chief's office. About half an hour later she pulled the door open aggressively nearly shattering the glass when it smacked against the wall before she stepped out fuming.

    "I hope you f*****g rot, Wright," she shouted before storming off seconds away from bursting into tears.

    "Losing your s**t in front of the Chief of Police is really unprofessional Olivera. You need to see a shrink so you can get your s**t together," he called back and then burst into a fake throaty laughter.

    "f**k you, Wright," Special Agent Olivera shot flipping him the bird before leaving.

    "Wright this isn't how we do things here," the Chief stated annoyed with him.

    "Look, I'm here on orders man," Carter stood up not liking the tone he was using on the Chief. "Why don't you go back to your office and mind your own business?"

    Wright stretched his hand out to tap the chief on his shoulder. His hand never made it. Carter grabbed him by the wrist, turning it over, locking it behind his back before she spun him around, and slammed him on her desk.

    "Detective," the Chief shouted.

    "You don't talk to him like that. Do you understand? I don't care what you're going through, ass hole. Learn your f*****g place. You're not a special agent here. You're not even a detective. So sit your ass down and do what the chief says or I'm tossing your ass out on the street," 

Wright is breathing hard. When he didn't say a word, she put pressure on his arm.

    "Alright," he groaned. "Alright, I get it,"

    She let him go and helped him up. When he turned to look at her, she straightened his jacket out looking up at him. He looked back at her with anger. Whatever he wanted to say he didn't. He bit back his tongue. Carter is sure that he might have even drawn blood.

    "Apologize to the Chief. Tell him it won't happen again," she demanded. He looked at her hard before he turned the scrutiny of his gaze towards the Chief.

    "My sincerest apologies, sir. It won't happen again," he bit out tightly.

    "It's alright, son," the chief sighed looking Carter over briefly. She sat down and began to put her things back in order. "I'll have someone bring you your login I.D. in a bit. Once you've been set up with that, Detective Madison will give you the rundown with everything else,"

    Wright didn't say a word. He turned around and sat at his desk fuming with anger. Everyone is staring at him even after the chief shut the door to his office. The man glared at the door not wanting to feel the tension that was just created by what happened.

    "What the f**k are all of you looking at? Don't you have s**t to do?" Carter called out. The officers all turned away without saying a word. "Let's go, new guy,"

    "I haven't gotten my login," he bit out coldly.

    "It's lunchtime. You won't get it for another hour. Be my guest and sit there for that long for all I care," she shot taking her black trenchcoat off the back of her chair.

    He stood up abruptly pushing the office chair back hard enough to knock it against her desk. She glanced back at him as she put her coat on. He rolled his eyes and calmly pushed the chair back to its rightful place. He motioned her to go first. She wanted to just drop-kick his ass in front of everyone for making her look like the responsible one. He knows that if he wanted to stay employed he had to keep this woman happy. 

    "This is your car?" he asked her when the got to the parking lot. She stopped and looked back at him. "They let you drive around in this thing?"

    "You don't like it? We can take your car,"

    "Like it?" he asked. "I'd f**k it,"

    "I'm sure there's a word for that," she said unlocking her Dodge Hellcat.

    "What color is this?" he asked leaning forward as if to get a closer look.

    "It's midnight black,"

    "This isn't black," he shook his head, looking up at her.

    "It's a matte black custom glossed with a candy navy blue glitter," he nodded.

    "Midnight black," he whispered.

    "Which one is yours?" she asked.

    "The Malibu," he shrugged a little disappointed. She looked over to the car he pointed at.

    "It's a good family car," she nodded. He scoffed.

    "It was all I could afford after the divorce," he sighed. She motioned him to get inside. He pulled the door open and got in. He smiled when the car roared to life.

    "Next time you have the brilliant idea of proposing to someone, look at your car and remember why it's not this one," he burst into laughter.

    "Who hurt you?" he asked.

    "Everyone," she answered putting her car into gear. 

    He shook his head looking his partner over, thinking she had been joking. Later, when she finally lost the mask she wears so gracefully he sees that she isn't the kind of woman that makes jokes. At least, not when it comes to truth.