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Police cars lined the street, their blue and red lights flashing bright in the dark of the night leaving a stream of color reflecting off the walls of the property they sat out the front of. Yellow crime scene tape wrapped around the fences of one small suburban house cutting off any access to the public.
There was a handful of neighbours that had gathered outside, standing just beyond the yellow border. All dressed in their night things with robes and slippers covering their bodies and feet as they waiting for answers, straining their necks just to catch a glimpse of what lay inside the house.
Pulling out a pair of bright blue gloves from his jacket pocket, Detective William 'Spike' Giles ducked underneath the tape that had sectioned off the house. If he heard the neighbours asking him questions he didn't acknowledge or answer them. With his head down he made his way towards the path and the 3 steps that led to the front door.
Another case, another late night.
For Spike this seemed was becoming a frequent occurrence.
He was always the first on call when someone went bump in the middle of the night. Most of the other detectives in the precinct had families, small children and wives.
Spike was alone.
A night owl married to his job.
It had just passed 2:00 AM when the call had come in.
His crime scene unit was a buzz of activity when he first stepped through the doors of the house. He followed the movements towards his people into the lounge-room and immediately saw his partner Charles Gunn standing there.
"What have we got Charlie?"
"Two victims. One male, one female, husband and wife. Both victims sustained blunt force trauma to the head before their throats were cut. Body's moved post-mortem."
Spike silently surveyed the scene in front of him as Gunn tapped away on the tablet in his hands. His own tablet sat in the glove compartment of his car, idle and un-used. He could never figure out how to work the blasted thing. Technology and Spike had a tendency to break rather quickly. Good old pen and paper were his best friend. Solid, reliable. The things you needed in his profession.
Spike pulled a small leather-bound black notepad from his back pocket and flipped through it. This was the third murder case within the last month where a couple had been murdered. All three times the victims had been carefully placed on a couch, both sitting on either end with their hands outstretched.
Fingertips barely touching.
Their throats slit.
"Same MO as the last few killings boss."
"Time of death?"
"We won't know until Fred looks them over."
"How long had they been married?"
Spike glanced at his partner, a sad sigh in his voice. Gunn pressed a few buttons on the tablet he held, typing away for a moment before answering.
Spike glanced at the couple one more time, his eyes lingering on their hands, fingertips barely touching, golden wedding rings shinning in the flash of the camera as his team took photos of the crime scene. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Gunn took a deep breath, absent-mindedly twirling the gold wedding band on his own finger. Spike swallowed, his stomach dropping at the mere thought that his best friend and wife could have been the ones sitting dead on this couch.
He had been on the force for years nearly seven years and made a conscious effort to try to take his own emotions away from a case, staying subjective was hard when cases like this struck a little too close to home.
"I want photos of everything. Bag everything! I want this psycho caught before he kills another person in this bloody town!"
"You want me to notify the next of kin?" Gunn asked, already flipping through the screens of his tablet to find the information of the couple that sat before them. "Spike?"
"Sorry mate, yeah."
The crime scene unit buzzed around them, taking swabs of everything, photos being snapped from every angle and each possible item of evidence being bagged. Spike stayed for nearly an hour surveying the room and investigating further into the house, trying to figure out an access point where the killer could have entered the house but as usual there was nothing.
No finger marks.
Slamming a drawer in the office in frustration, Spike sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a headache coming on.
"We're almost done out here."
Spike followed Gunn out of the room, stopping mid step, heart thudding deep in his chest. Seven years on the force and the sight before him never got any easier to witness. Two matching gurney's laid out in the lounge area with matching black bags holding the deceased bodies of the couple within. Two officers lifted the gurney's, their legs clicking into place as they were wheeled from the house.
Two more people taken too early from this world.
With one last look around the room Spike and Gunn followed suit and exited the house, the front door creaking shut behind them. One police officer stepped up and covered the door in crime scene tape before being stopped by Spike as he walked down the small drive.
"I want an officer stationed out the front of this house for twenty-four hours. The killer could come back."
"I'll be at the station if anyone needs me."
"It's nearly 3:00 AM, man. Go home!"
Gunn yelled at Spikes retreating back as he rushed to follow, ducking under the tape surrounding the house and out into the street where Spike had parked his car. The neighbours who had lingered along the border when he had arrived had all but gone, leaving only the direct neighbours behind. One of his officers was finishing up his questions when Spike shouted back.
"Can't do that Charlie! Not while there's a killer on the loose." Spike slipped into his vintage black Desoto and fired up the engine, flashing Gunn a particular look. "Don't forget the coffee this time, mate!"
Kicking his car into reverse, Spike drove off into the night. The blue and red police lights flashing behind him as he left yet another crime scene. Gunn shook his head, packing up his kit and equipment before following in his own car.
Chapter End Notes:
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