Ill Tidings (Closed)

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The flashing blue and red lights illuminate the yellow tape and milling police officers outside the decaying, abandoned house in tandem, casting odd shadows against the pale yellow house with the sagging porch and rotting floorboards.

Most of the houses in this forsaken part of downtown were empty and on the verge of being condemned-the police didn't venture this far on a typical beat, and why would they? Nothing but drug users and squatters out this way, the occasional murder or OD victim.

Inside the pale yellow house was a gruesome though not overly bloody scene. A lean man in his twenties lay sprawled on his back, his naked chest a bloody mess of stab wounds. A large hunting knife was still planted firmly in his flesh, the handle missing. His blue jeans were splattered with dark spots and droplets of blood, loose on his slim frame-missing a belt she was sure was there.

He wore no shoes, but the soles of his feet were clean. He didn't look like the typical druggie-short haircut, clean fingernails, unlined face. Then again, sometimes you just couldn't tell with the sickness that was addiction.

Leah gave a shake of her head, carefully picking her way through the missing and sagging floor boards, peering through a hole and shining her pocket flashlight down into what looked like a dirt basement. She'd send a team down to sift through the dirt before the crime scene was released-and give it a quick glance herself before leaving.

Lieutenant Leah Rosenburg had long been promoted past field work-but she kept at it anyway, much to the consternation of her secretary. She was a cop's cop, a gumshoe from a long line of gumshoes-she belonged out here on the ground, and no one could argue with the results-Rosenburg solved cases. Period.

A tall woman, and not the willowy kind either-full curves, a picture of femininity that most women would have envied and most men would have longed to hold. She didn't shy away from her height either-already at least 5'10", she still wore boots and shoes that pushed her into the six foot range and eye to eye with most men-or even taller than them.

She had dark red hair that she kept in a low, simple ponytail over one shoulder, her almond shaped, hazel eyes bearing little flecks of green that contrasted sharply with her hair. Depending on the lighting, those eyes seemed to shift between amber or a dark green. Her full lips were a mauvish pink color, her skin slightly tanned and flawless. She was an attractive woman, if not strikingly beautiful. Always looking altogether too comfortable, too confident and at ease.

As usual, today she was wearing a brown suede bomber's jacket over a plain white men's tee, her badge hanging loose around her neck. Black pants and brown, knee high boots seemed to accentuate those toned, long legs almost accidentally.

Her jacket was open. Occasionally when she moved her right arm or shifted just right, one could see her service weapon nestled neatly on her right front side for a left handed draw in it's shoulder holster. There were a few stories about her marksmanship around the precinct. There was also a rather well known tale of her last day as a beat cop-a shoot out and a drug bust landed her a promotion at the unheard of age of 23.

Leah crouched down to inspect the disturbed dust on the sill of a broken, gaping window. Possible entrance point. She didn't think the vic was killed here-stabbings created a lot of blood splatter, and the area around the kid was bone dry. No, he had been brought here.

"CSI's here Lieutenant."

"Yeah, well, the photographer isn't, so keep 'em out." Leah straightened, making a note in her trusty, worn out leather notepad before heading into the kitchen towards the back of the house.

 

[LaurelOneiros]

Ellie fumbled in her bag and finally produce her ID.

"Sorry for the confusion, I will be sure to have this ready the next time!" She apologized in a sweet and polite voice, if a little flustered, and crossed the barricade after having been briefly mistaken for a civilian.

The young woman tugged her jacket under one arm and slipped a pair of disposable latex gloves on her thin hands. She shuddered a little as the cool air struck her frame--smallish at 5'2" and weighing just under 100 pounds. In her bland concealing outfit meant to minimize disturbance of evidence, her large bright eyes and small pointed chin made her mistakable for a young boy.

She looked briefly at the gloomy sky, the pulsating alternation of red and blue cast on the building's facade and smiled a tight-lipped smile as she recalled what lighting set-up would be appropriate for these conditions. Her camera hung down from her neck for the time being while she tied her short, light hair in a bun; the heavy digital camera swung and bumped into her chest from time to time, reminding her how flat she was thereabout, but just then she paid no mind--after all, this was her first real case in the force, as well as her first time working side by side with Lieutenant Rosenburg.

Ellie didn't really believe that Leah was a member of the department upon first noticing her in the office--which was impossible not to, at least for Ellie--and the girl was rightly elated when she realized that the beautiful woman whom she admired and the role of professional detective did indeed go together.

She has come around to finding details about the young Lieutenant after having entered the new workplace so recently, even though she had already began using Leah as an affirmation for career-choice--and atypical one to say the least for someone of her age and sex.

Drawing a deep breath, the forensic photographer stepped through the threshold of the derelict edifice, and winced slightly as the scent of aged decay as well as the distant tang of blood hit her nostrils. She saw many gruesome scenes during her time at school, but the multi-sensory presentation of what's before her right then reminded her just how inexperienced she really was. Nevertheless, Ellie stepped forward, knowing with no small comfort that at least she won't be alone.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Her flashlight had revealed an inch thick layer of dust on the stripped kitchen's cheap laminate flooring. The back door was still relatively solid, heavy. Clearly, no one had come through here in some time.

Picking her way back into the main area of the house, Leah didn't seem to even notice the petite photographer already at work as she paused in the doorway and scanned the room. Her usual trademark dazzling grin and that ever present genial warmth were both absent, a calculating, serious expression of analysis in their place. Her eyes were almost a amber in the low lighting as they swept the room, almost...predatory. She was giving the undisturbed scene a final look, mind already working to piece what it could together on what limited information she currently had. There'd be photographs-and good ones, hopefully-but they wouldn't later click for her quite as well as this last mental picture would.

Photographs were for juries and DA's, other detectives. Leah didn't tend to need them.

Her eyes finally flicker to the small woman crouched and balancing on the uneven flooring. It was the new girl in the department-she's seen her face, particularly those big ole eyes in passing, somewhere. Her gaze moved from her to the cavernous space around them.

She decided she didn't like it.

"Anthony, get a man at that back door." She says to the young officer hovering on the porch just beyond the front door, her demeanor shifting back to that of the genial, charming woman known so very well throughout the precinct. "And two more in the side yard, will you?" A short wave in thanks and the tall woman strode into the room, steps assured despite the nature of the flooring.

Even with the extra precautions, she doesn't like it. There's the obvious-small woman, stabbing victim, beyond shitty part of the town-but there were also the counter points-front yard full of cops, cleared scene, obvious dumping rather than scene of the murder-the new 'kid' should be just fine.

But Leah didn't make a habit of ignoring her instincts. She didn't like it, so she didn't like it. "Here kid, let me hold something for you-CSI's probably still finishing their coffee anyway." The twenty six year old red head hardly had the years to call anyone kid, but she certainly had the standing. That, and Leah had the heart and soul of an old grizzled cop-if all of the charm of a roguish young one.

 

[LaurelOneiros]

Ellie had hoped that seeing her senior on the scene would make her feel more at ease, but seeing Leah's distant figure--apparently observant and alert--had the opposite effect.

She swallowed, and half-knelt with her camera held out, trying to get to work. Photos were snapped, starting with overall impressions of the unwelcoming place and later extending to individual details--dust on the floor, spots of water damage, intricacies in the building's layout.

By the time Ellie looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, she had made what she felt was thorough coverage of the main area, and she instinctively looked up at the redhead detective as if waiting for instruction. Leah was not looking at her just then, however, and so the young photographer followed her senior's gaze around the rotting cavity of the house while she wondered what cryptic signs that might be apparent to Leah might she have overlooked herself.

"Anthony, get a man at that back door..." Ellie heard her speak, and stood up from her previous position. She looked attentively for instructions, if Leah had any to give, and turned her head away blushing when she saw the woman's surprisingly charming demeanor which starkly contrasted her earlier grim solemnity.

Feeling a little clueless, Ellie distracted herself in watching Leah's backup as he proceeded with the instruction, even as Leah herself walked back into the room, seemingly unaware of her own presence there.

"Here kid, let me hold something for you" Ellie turned with a little start as she realized that she was being addressed. "-CSI's probably still finishing their coffee anyway." She nodded slightly, and felt her chest tighten in anxiety as she prepared to listen.

"Is there anything that I should do?" She probed in a low voice, in case she might be interrupting Leah mid-sentence.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Is there anything that I should do?"

There was a bit of anxiety and a lot of nervousness to that question, not to mention the way she'd jumped like that. Leah flashed her an easy smile and raised her hands to either side of her shoulders, palms facing Ellie in a harmless gesture.

"Hey, you're the expert on photography here, not me-I always end up with photos of my shoes or the back of the lens cap." She said in a casual, charming, self depreciating manner that was as nonthreatening as possible.

She's not quite sure, but the smaller woman looked a little pale.

Leah reached for the strap of Ellie's bag, her graceful fingers slipping under it just in front of the shoulder, drawing it right off and over Ellie's arm before sliding it up over her own. She can't be sure, but the other woman looked a little pale.

"First case?" Leah inquires with a nod towards the door, slowing her pace just enough so the much smaller woman doesn't have to hurry to keep up. They stepped through the open doorway, across the sagging porch, down the cracked concrete steps-and back into the brisk night.

There was no scent of death out here, no coppery tinge of blood. Leah led them around the side of the house, a flashlight in hand that she clicks on to study the ground, giving a wide berth to avoid ruining any footsteps that might be present.

There aren't any.

She walks all the way to the window that had had the disturbed dust, the flashlight catching the broken shards glittering at it's base. Someone broke it from the inside, but it didn't look like they had climbed out of it. She turns and sweeps the flashlight, but there's nothing to be seen here.

She clicks the flashlight off, attention returning to Ellie.

"Lieutenant Rosenburg." She introduces, extending one of her hands for a shake. "But call me Leah. I've seen you around the precinct but haven't gotten a chance to say hello."

 

[LaurelOneiros]

"Hey, you're the expert on photography here, not me-I always end up with photos of my shoes or the back of the lens cap."

Ellie watched as Leah’s attitude thawed from her previous concentration, and smiled herself; she felt silly to have been so on edge with just a dead guy in a decade-abandoned house that was surrounded inside and out with cops, and when Leah offered to hold her equipment for her, she eased it into the pretty woman’s hands with a nod of thank.

“First case?”

“Uh- yeah, pretty much.” Ellie answered, “I worked on a few others but those weren’t as serious as...this one.” She was grateful that Leah’s slowed gait allowed her the time to compose; she did feel a little as if she was walking onto a stage from behind the curtains when they left the dingy house for the police-light illuminated exterior, but the association only relieved her as being humorous.

Presently her eyes turned back to Leah again, who preceded herself. Ellie took care to replicate the cautious way her senior took in navigating the premise, noting with a twinge of guilt that she had neglected examining the ground earlier. At least that could be amended easily enough with her camera in her freshly unburdened hands.

In addition to the apparently untred ground, Ellie took more pictures of the broken window as seen from the outside under Leah’s torchlight, and this she did more briskly and easily than before, owing to her freedom from the unpleasant odour, her gears and the initial anxiety in working alongside someone whom she might have subconsciously placed on a pedestal.

With the task complete, Ellie looked up just in time to catch the beautiful woman’s greeting and introduction.

“Ellie Brooks,” she responded with a polite smile, which grew more vibrant with a tinge of a blush as Ellie felt Leah’s shapely fingers in her own soft, smaller hand.

“It’s very nice to work with you.” She said, a found surprising sincerity in what is often a perfunctory statement.

“So...what do you think is the story here?” Ellie asked in a second or two as she indicated the house and its surroundings with a sweeping glance. “Or is that something you detective people figure out in hotel rooms with papers all over the floor?” She suggested with experimental jocoseness.