Private Eyes
By NekoLen and Tachigami

Note: May include intense situations and blood, violence, and negative or dark references.

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The smallish window allowed four separate streams of light to enter the living room, one of which made its way to the couch and onto the face of its sleeper. The bright gold-yellow glow woke him and brought up his hand to shield his eyes, and his other hand dropped the item it had grasped in sleep. Sitting up, Iago Brighton swung his left leg onto the floor and forced his right one a bit, since it had become a bit stiff in sleep. Rubbing the blinding flashes of light from his vision, Iago bent down and scooped up the book he had fallen asleep reading. It was covorless, something he'd dug out of a bin of freebies on the street a few months ago and never got around to reading, though now he couldn't remember what it was about. Iago set it down, on top of another book, and made sure it was perfectly aligned with the one below it without really realizing what he was doing.

Iago stood with a little difficulty, stretching his injured knee until it would support him relatively easily. He'd had this injury---a gunshot wound that had lodged shards of the bullet between the joints and made it hard to walk---for several years now, but had learned to live with it, despite being a bit slower when it came to running. He turned, limping a bit as he went to the kitchen area of the main room, and pressed the 'start' button on the coffee maker, leaning against the counter as it started with a slight gurgling hiss. He recalled what had made him wake up on the couch, rather than in bed---a restless night. He had wanted to avoid waking William with his tossing and turning, so he got up and crept into the living room to read. It seemed to have worked, though, since he was up an hour early.

As the coffee filtered through, Iago went back into the living room and switched the television on, straight to a news channel. It looked to be another warm day, followed by a warm week and spotty showers and storms. That wasn't bad---Iago had always enjoyed thunderstorms. Glancing back to the door that led to the bedroom, he considered waking William, but thought against it and went into the bathroom for a shower. Better to follow the alarm clock's decisions.

Will's eyes flickered open as he rolled over in the large single bed. It was just big enough for two, so one would certainly notice when the other wasn't lying next to them. He had felt Iago leave the room around midnight, after tossing and turning in his sleep for a few hours. Will wondered if the man had gotten any sleep at all. He closed his eyes again until he heard the coffee machine switch on. Will had always hated coffee and never understood why his partner was so obsessed with it.

Moaning slightly and stretching in the bed like a cat, William Peters crawled out of bed and into his dressing gown and slippers. It wasn't a particularly cold morning, as it was Autumn. He wore them more for comfort and out of habit. The slippers were worn so far that holes showed the positions of his toes. He sneezed and then yawned, moving into the living area that also was their kitchen and office. He saw his partner watching the news and thought to find the man's hot water bottle. Will had bought it for him for his birthday and it seemed to help with the pain in Iago's knee.

He brushed his dark red hair from his face, thinking again that he really needed a haircut, and went over to the kettle, switching that on once the coffee machine was heated up. He glanced over to Iago. "Good morning grumpy," he said, poking his tongue out. "Anything good on the news?"

The two had formed a private detective agency a year after they met, having both been interested in sleuthing for years. Will had completed a few small classes on CI work and had worked in a morgue while trying to get into the police force. He could never quite make it in, but then he met Iago... He heard the kettle finish boiling, making a mug of coffee for his partner and a green tea for himself, he brought the drinks over to the couch and rested them on the table in between the TV and the sofa. He pecked Iago on the cheek and sat next to him, sipping his hot drink and watching the early morning news for anything mildly interesting.

Iago was already dressed and just about ready for anything that called them away when Will came out, looking a bit less sleepy than he did each morning. This time he had a reason, though, having not fallen asleep until two in the morning---or some variation of that time. But he'd grown used to running on fumes, or at least on coffee and other caffeine-based mediums, trudging through twelve-hour shifts and midnights while staying as alert as possible. He'd gone through ten months of police academy, earning a place at the top of the class and quickly moving from street duty to emergency response calls to a detective with the force. But he'd retained the desire to begin his own independent agency of sorts, and when he had met William at the department, who had the same idea, things had certainly gone well after that. He disregarded the incident that had permanently altered his knee, though, finding it a lucky shot since it hadn't hit a major blood vessel. He didn't complain much about it now, three years later.

When William sat down, Iago glanced over at him with a light smile that faded a bit. "Not much that notable." He sighed, moving up to retrieve the cup of coffee. "A propane explosion outside town at four this morning, but no one was harmed---someone mistook it for a deer, somehow." How anyone could mistake a bulky tank for a deer was beyond him, but if the shooter had been on drugs, it was pretty clear.

The news switched suddenly, flashing a 'Breaking News' logo before the announcer began speaking: "Just a moment ago a body was found impaled in a building scheduled for demolition this afternoon. Reports indicate foul play, but police are not releasing information on the victim until they have more information..."

Iago's mind shut down after that. While he and William were considered independent of the force, Iago's high status still allowed them to hold a rather tight grip on what happened and often let them into higher scale cases. It had been slow this week, though. "This might be interesting." He said. "Think we ought to go take a look?"

Will leant against his partner's shoulder out of habit. It had always felt comfortable to rest there, even if the man's shoulder was a bit hard. When the breaking news flashed across the screen, he raised an eyebrow and glanced at Iago. The man was still highly respected in the force and he knew the head of police quite well. They would be able to walk into this case with barely a question.

Impaled...? Sounded like a hate crime, a murder thought out with revenge on the mind. Most murders were spur of the moment things, where there had been an argument and one had grabbed a knife or gun. "I wonder if this is the first murder of this case?" Sometimes the police didn't let certain details of cases out in the public. Many murders never showed in the media for certain reasons, often to protect the victim and their family.

He sipped his green tea and thought about the small amount of information that had been told by the news reader. It seemed that it had just happened and that the police didn't know who the victim was at this point. The brief footage of the warehouse and police officers and CSI's walking around the building showed the location and nothing else. Will noticed the way the police officers were nervously glancing about and the investigators walked out of the building shaking their heads. They hadn't seen something like this before.

"Sure, let's go take a look, might be good," he replied, getting up from the couch. He had to get ready first, something Iago always seemed to do way before Will was even out of bed. He went to their room and pulled on some clothes, reaching into a small box he kept hidden in his dresser, he took out some small white pills and swallowed them dry. He had been keeping that part a secret for many years, not wanting to worry the man or be treated any different. He had already lived past the doctor's expectations by two years.

As Will moved away to get dressed, Iago sat upward and stared at the bird's eye view of the scene that they kept repeating. He recognized that building, on Carolina Avenue, an old meat packaging place that had been abandoned some ten years ago. He tended to pass that building since it was a few streets over from their apartment---which served as their office as well, and that little area was a clean place in a corner near the door. With a light sigh, Iago started to stand, but froze and fell backward a little less than gracefully with a hissed curse. It was still too early for him to just jump up and go, even after loosening the stiffness in his knee with a hot shower and a bit of stretching. The suddenness of the movement had sent daggers through his leg, and he paused, nervously looking back to the somewhat-closed door that led to the bedroom. He kept the old injury relatively brushed off, but from time to time it really bothered him and he continuously hoped it wouldn't be easily caught onto by William. He didn't need anyone treating him like he was fifty when he wasn't even twenty eight yet.

Iago stood up a little more gingerly this time, rubbing his knee to force the pain to ebb, and picked up both cups from the tabletop and washed them quickly. While William was messier than Iago, the older man did well to clean up whatever he saw amiss, and couldn't stand to see even one dirty dish in the sink. With those put up, he pulled a metal thermos from the cabinet and filled it with the remaining pot of coffee. He'd become used to a couple pots per day, and each doctor and dentist visit showed he was perfectly healthy in tooth and body, so his rather strong addiction could continue unhindered.

With the top screwed onto the thermos, Iago turned in time to hear his cell vibrate on the table. Half-running to meet it, he answered the call without glancing at the caller ID. "Iago, you see the news?" The voice belonged to the commissioner, Lawrence. A good friend of Iago for years, and eventually of William after they became independent.

"Sure I did! We're getting ready, be out in..." He paused, and glanced at the clock. Almost eight. "... probably fifteen at the most. You can't think we didn't jump at this one, did you?"

Lawrence chuckled. "No, I guess I was just wondering why you didn't get here within the first five minutes. We'll be waiting!"

Iago hung up, pocketing the phone. He hadn't yet thought much about the manner of the victim's death---not until they got to the scene, at least.

After glancing at himself in the large mirror that hung on their bedroom wall, Will grabbed his small bag full of pen and notepads, and rushed out to the living room to meet with his partner. He noticed how the man stood, but didn't say anything about it. He had learnt that Iago disliked him making a fuss over his bad knee. "Was that Larry?" he questioned, shouldering the small bag and looking at the cell phone he had just heard ringing. Will had a habit of calling people by nicknames, no matter their standing. Most people didn't mind it, but it caused issues sometimes.

"We gonna get going?" The building was only a few blocks away, but they would still be taking the car due to Iago's bad knee. Will hated to strain him too much. "Want me to drive?"

Iago paused only to slip his shoes on, grabbing his thermos before stepping around the kitchen counter and to the computer desk, where the ring of keys to the car, the apartment, and a couple safes that held some important items to both of them located not in the building they lived in. He tossed the ring of keys to William with a nod. "Sure." He said easily, though he'd have been able to handle driving---or walking, really---the short distance from apartment to scene quite easily. It was the long drives that would make his knee seize up, or the long walks that might make the pain unbearable and force him to stop for a while. It was why he kept pain pills with him from day to day, though rarely used them for fear of getting addicted to them and changing, somehow.

They left the apartment, though, after Iago had gathered his satchel, which carried most of his items---including his gun and identification that still recognized him as part of the department. They lived about halfway up the fourteen-floor building, which thankfully had an elevator. Otherwise Iago wouldn't be able to constantly take the stairs. He was thankful for how much William put up with in that regard, how much it was taken into account.

Will caught the keys and left the apartment, turning to lock the door once Iago had limped from the room and into the hallway. He glanced down the hall, glad that no one was around. He never did quite like their neighbours, most were shut-ins or alcoholics. They would move into a better place, but neither really had the time or money to consider a move. They couldn't even afford a bigger bed, though Will personally enjoyed cuddling up to the older man.

He turned left and walked the long, musty hallway, stopping in front of the elevator. He was glad that it was still in service, as an out of order sign usually meant Iago had to stay behind. He pushed the button to call for it, as it was somewhere below on the 23rd floor. He leant against the wall and waited, smiling at Iago but not talking much.

Once the elevator doors opened, he stepped inside, waiting for his partner to join him before hitting the worn "G" button. He moved closer to Iago, kissing his cheek again and enjoying the warmth the older man gave. Once they had hit the ground floor, Will led the way down one small flight of stairs to the carpark below, which the elevator didn't get to. He had insisted Iago wait outside many times, but the man refused to be given special treatment and always came down with Will.

At the bottom, he moved towards their black dusty car, a small thing that wasn't particularly flash, but still did a good job for their needs. He waited for Iago again, unlocking the car and turning to face him. "You alright?" he asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

Iago didn't have to acknowledge that he was limping a little more today than usual. He chalked it up to the day, perhaps a bit of the humidity that didn't seem to be well placed so far into autumn. Still, he managed well even down the stairs, wincing only once today and certainly feeling good about that. William had stopped insisting he stay upstairs not long ago, probably knowing that Iago would not allow himself to be handled as if he were a glass doll. After all, he didn't move slowly anymore, not like he did at one point when he was just getting over the surgery that couldn't reach the shards of the bullet without causing more damage than it was worth. If they had done that, he'd probably be walking with a cane now.

He nodded at Will's question. "I'm fine." He assured the man. "I guess this unseasonably warm weather's working its magic on the joints is all. I'm just fine." William worried about him. Iago knew that, he just wished the young man wouldn't. He got into the small vehicle, a little cramped in the thing, which made him have to hold his satchel on his lap through the drive. "Are you okay?" He asked as William got in alongside him.

"Fine and dandy," William replied, getting into the driver's seat and turning the keys in the ignition. He backed the car out and drove it carefully towards the automatic door, pushing a button mounted on the car's dashboard to open the door. While waiting for this, he turned on the radio, adjusting the volume so it wasn't too loud. It was tuned in to a radio talkback show, something most people would fine insanely boring but Will had always found very interesting. The topic the host and caller were talking about was the price of tomatoes, so he didn't pay much attention.

He pulled into the street and drove the few blocks without incident. He wasn't the best driver in the world, but at least he drove safely. He found an empty parking space near the crime scene, pulling in and shutting off the engine. He glanced across the street at the building. It was still swarming with media and police. Members of the public stood outside the "Police - Do Not Cross" tape, trying to see anything from the grisly crime scene.

Will had always thought the everyday man's attraction to carnage was strange. It was usually referred to as the "Train-Wreck Syndrome"; it's something so horrible and terrible, but yet you have to look. He smiled slightly, knowing that the body would be on its way to a coroner by now.

Iago turned his nose up at the choice of Will's radio station. Such talk tended to lull him to sleep so easily, yet classical music kept him alert and focused in a way it would be considered a lullaby to most. Still, the drive was short, so he stared out the window, sipping coffee every few moments without really knowing he was doing so. The police units and unmarked vehicles that lined the road alerted him of how near they were, and he gathered up his bag as William parked. "Lord, you can always expect a crowd..." Iago muttered rather darkly as he stepped out and stretched. The pain in his leg was gone now, save when he put too much pressure on it, and he could bend it without protest.

Since the road had been closed off in favor of a detour around the block, they were able to cross the road easily, and an officer at the tape scrutinized the two before recognizing them and waving them through. "Body's gone to the morgue," he said. "But the scene's not been tampered with. It's inside, second floor." Iago nodded. His obsessive nature lent to a very observant manner that bordered on ethereal. It let him see what others would miss on a first glance, or overlook as non-consequential. It's what rose him through to the status of detective very quickly.

Will was best at observing people than looking for clues. He had almost a sixth sense when it came to figuring out who was the culprit. He did anything to get a confession, sometimes it wasn't quite... "Legal". But the Police Department had come to appreciate his and Iago's efforts, the duo catching more criminals together than all the police officers combined. Sometimes a bit of jealousy came into play, especially from the Department's own Detective, Todd Kind, who, very unlike his last name, was known to hate the pair.

Will left the car and locked it, not even trusting it to remain unlocked near so many police officers. He crossed the road with Iago, pulling out his notepad instantly and scribbling down everything he saw or heard. They were briefly stopped by a police officer, but it didn't take him long to let them through.

Iago and William were met with Alex Lawrence, the police commissioner and Iago's longtime friend. A tall, square man, he wasn't quite as serious as he appeared to be. He had approached from one of the shipping bays that had at one time been used to load up semis with the item being shipped across---and out of---the city. "So it's up on the second floor, elevators don't work since power was shut down a long time ago." He looked at Iago. "You, ah, think you---?" The simmering glare Iago's otherwise watery-blue eyes threw at him had Lawrence biting his tongue. "Never mind, c'mon." He waved them along, moving through a few CSI vans and a barrage of officers. Iago was walking easier now, and when it came to the stairs, he was able to get up the two flights with nary a wince.

On the second floor, they passed Detective Kind. When Iago grinned at him, a type of gloating greet, the man snarled silently and turned away. Iago wasn't quite sure why he disliked either of them, but it probably had to do with how quickly Iago rose through the ranks and how easily William was accepted into such high profile cases alongside him. Todd did seem to rub others the wrong way, so he wasn't exactly a favorite to work with. His partners were often sympathized with.

Will kept quiet, usually. He was allowed these rights because of Iago. He couldn't say something that would jeopardise their career. He looked about him with wide eyes, watching the people around him and noting anything down out of the ordinary. Will had always been a good judge of character, a skill he had used on many occasions. As they walked up the flight of stairs, he walked behind his partner, not asking if he was alright, just making sure he could make it without any trouble. It seemed his bad leg was better than usual today, which made Will smile.

He noticed Detective Kind glaring at them and waved happily, getting a stony look back and he then walked off. He never worked with them, never sharing his evidence with them or talking to them about the case. But every time, Iago and Will seemed to get better evidence and confessions from the criminals. They were seriously hurting his career. As they approached a giant metal hook that hung from the ceiling, Will noticed the many CSI's wiping for prints, taking photos and swabbing the blood on both the hook and the ground.

He had worked many years with the dead, preparing them for transport, funerals and autopsies. Very rarely was he grossed out or disturbed. Right now, he felt mild surprise at the gruesome and severity the victim was murdered. "Was the victim alive when impaled?" he questioned suddenly, watching the CSI's work.

"Uh... That's what they need to find out in the autopsy. That and time of death, of course..." Lawrence scratched his head, staring in horror at the hook. "I sure hope not, though. Something like that... Would take awhile to kill. It's pretty blunt, actually." He pointed at the tip. "Used mainly for lifting and storing heavy items. Seems that it would take a bit of force to get someone stuck on it..."

"I guess you guys want to know who the victim was?" Lawrence rubbed his chin and glanced from Iago to Will. "His name was Reed Leoter. Um... He was quite known around the precinct... As a con man. Wanted for several minor robberies and fraud charges. I guess someone caught him before us, ehy?" He laughed nervously.

Iago looked around to the floor and the hook that had been used to impale the con man. He was only half-listening as Lawrence spoke, though, because he was more interested in what the scene held. Blood, and a lot of it. One would be hard pressed to figure out the specific origin of it all. But he approached the darkest spot, a large, messy puddle of the stuff, and straddled it while looking up. "He was dead before they strung him through."

"Dead already?" Lawrence asked. "How do you know?"

"Look here." He pointed to the blood between his feet. "It's not below the hook, see? And to top it off, it's a gradual spread. And look here." He indicated some scuff marks both light and dark on the floor nearby, and one side of the puddle of blood had smeared. "Some struggle. Shoe scuffs, from two different sets. They killed Reed here and dragged him over to the hook and raised him."

Staring around, Iago didn't blink. It was a habit of his, when he was studying something so hard, that often he'd forget to blink at all, for a good long time. "I see, um... lines." He pointed. "Looks like whatever they were stabbing him with left some cast-off there. And there." He pointed two areas out. One was to the south of the bloodstain, and the other was oriented more northeast.

"Stabbing takes a lot of effort." Lawrence said. "Why didn't they just shoot him?"

"Probably because they wanted him to suffer. Might've been a couple of people close to him. Or family members... Maybe a couple he scammed---people get crazy violent when they've been screwed over." He didn't know why, but Iago chuckled slightly. It wasn't funny, no, but that it happened to Reed? He might have had it coming. A lot of people lost just as much money because of him.

Will noted what Iago was saying down. He had always been impressed by his partner's attention to detail, how he saw the world and could solve crimes so easily. He found himself staring and wandering off into thought, so he shook his head to snap himself out of it. He knew that look. It was the look of absolute focus and attention Iago reserved only for crime scenes and... Other times. Will had always secretly loved the intense stare of the older man, thinking of it now, he blushed lightly.

He cleared his throat and pointed to a few CSI's who were standing back and listening. "You heard him. Check those areas please. They would have hidden them. It may even be outside or another floor." He turned back to Lawrence, who was looking amazed as he always did when Iago investigated a crime scene. "He was a con man? So the motivation could be clearly revenge. A victim he took money from, perhaps. Seems to be more than one person, though..." He noted this down.

"How... Ah... How would you know that?" Lawrence asked, rubbing his chin and nervously glancing from the older man to Will.

"Well, you said yourself. It would take a lot of force to get someone on that hook. We are looking for at least 3 murderers. One to hold the hook steady, one to lift Reed and another to help." Will glanced at Iago to see if what he was saying was correct.

Iago nodded easily. William had a pretty accurate power of deduction, despite being more suited for the morgue---it was why Iago took a chance, pulled him out of the department and to the actual scenes. While coroners and morticians were best suited to determine causes of death in the victim, when they died, how much damage they took before or after they died. William could do that, of course, it was why he was there in the first place. Lawrence had doubted Iago's decision at first, until they had branched off to be more independent of the department. Still, more often than not Will and Iago were the first Lawrence called for a higher-profile murder case, and sometimes, kidnappings.

Iago looked toward Lawrence. "I'd take a few guesses as to who killed the guy, but I think it'd be a good idea to talk to family first---Get whomever was closest to Reed and bring them in. If some of his scamming victims got revenge on him I have a feeling he might have let slip who, specifically, might have been after him."

"Are you kidding?" Todd Kind finally made his voice heard, though it was a bit hoarse since he had only recently quit smoking. "There's gotta be dozens, maybe over a hundred."

"Then I guess you'd better haul ass, shouldn't you?" Iago's tone took on a darker hint.

"Get a move on, Todd." Lawrence shouted from his position farther away. The detective glowered at Iago and William, but turned and stalked off.

Will hid a smile at Todd's attitude. It seemed he felt threatened by the pair, as he should. He was a lousy detective and Will always wondered how he got the job in the first place. He kept forgetting to ask Iago, and now wasn't the time or place. He stared at the hook, imagining how the body would have hung.

"Who found it? I mean, in a place like this... Who reported it?" Sometimes the murderer felt so guilty or wanted attention that they called the police themselves. A lot of psychopaths enjoyed the process of being interrogated and suspected. He blinked at the thought.

"Uh... A homeless man. We have him in the station now, he was rather shaken up by the whole thing. Said he heard screams and investigated," Lawrence replied. "I guess you two would like to speak to him after interrogation?"

Will glanced at Iago and nodded. "Then I'll allow that. Also, the victim had no family. No one close that is. He was a con man and probably betrayed his family a long time ago. Our best lead is the homeless man, Ollie Prater," Lawrence added before leaving the two to go supervise the search for the murder weopon.

Will turned to Iago, finishing his notes. "What do you think, Iggy? We go talk to this Ollie and go find the body? Seems like a trip to the station is needed either way."

Iago was silent for a few moments, staring off into nothing as he thought and only snapped out of it when Will spoke directly to him. "Sure, back to the station. But..." He pulled his cell phone out. "I'm pretty sure Reed's been in jail before. He's got to have someone relatively close to him, probably on the inside, probably a partner in crime that got caught along with him." He dialed a number, calling the tech room. The technological genius that spent all her time in that high-wired room could run anything with a small amount of information, and she picked up at once: "Speak to me, Iggy, and don't disappoint me!"

"Callie. I need you to run a name and see if you can come up with anyone, anywhere nearby, that might be in some way related to him. Name's... Reed Leoter. Con man, been in prison a couple times."

"Got it! Will take a while but I'll have it in... Ah, maybe fifteen."

"Ah, Callie. You know I love you?"

"I know." She sounded so confident. "Just get your behinds down here because I need to see your faces!"

"Will do. Be there soon." Iago disconnected and glanced toward William. "So we'll have something else to go on now if Ollie's a bust." He said easily. "How about I drive this time?" His knee was feeling fine now, it would just protest if he tried to put all his weight on it. And he hated putting so much on William, who seemed to feel he had to do so much more than was necessary---Iago could take care of himself, proved that every day. He ran with a bit of a limp, yes, but otherwise he was fine. He was glad someone cared about him enough, though. Especially someone like William.

Will grinned and tilted his head. "If you think you are up to it," he laughed, throwing the older man the keys. One last look over the crime scene and then they turned to leave. They could come back here whenever they wanted and all the photographic evidence would be available for them to look over. Will really wanted to see the body. He had always been good at finding things wrong that others couldn't. The coroner once nicknamed him 'Bones' from the TV show. He smiled at the memory.

They walked down the stairs slowly, Will in front of Iago this time in case the man fell down the stairs. As they walked, Will glanced about and stopped. He stared hard in one of the corners that was not swarming with CSIs or police. A large pile of dust covered the floor, but it had been stirred up, as though someone had walked there. He moved towards it, noticing bootprints of at least 5 different people. It looked fresh. "Iggy!" he exclaimed, his eyes falling on the small puddle of dark blood and a human finger that lay in the dust. "What...? How didn't anyone see that?!"

Walking downstairs was always easier than up. He didn’t have to needlessly bend his knee too much, and could use the banister to take off the full weight of the rest of his body off the leg. Iago jumped slightly when Will’s shocked voice exclaimed, automatically reaching into his bag until he figured out what the other man was referring to. No danger, at least not immediately---but a finger in a small amount of blood, as if it had simply been snipped off with garden shears as a thought before the hanging. But no one had mentioned a loss of a finger on the victim... Unless it’d been more specific for the coroners to deduce. He shook his head. “Dunno.” He muttered, an turned to look at the upper floor. From here one could see the railing protecting those upstairs from falling. “Hey, LARRY!”

His voice rang clear, and the commissioner jogged over. “Yeah, what’s going on?”

“Come see this!”

The man sighed roughly, but did as requested, clambering down the metal stairs and looking around to where Iago pointed. “Oh... Oh! Oh, God, Minnie! Minnie, get a couple guys down here and sweep this place!” Lawrence was quick on the draw. “God, I hope no one compromised the scene...” He muttered as a few from the forensics team hurried downstairs.

Will wrote down this new evidence, his lips sealed shut. He couldn't believe that no one had noticed this before. The precinct seemed to be losing their focus in big cases like this. Frankly, Will was disgusted. He crouched slightly and stared closely at the finger. He had a feeling that it wasn't the victim's, meaning one of the culprits would be easily found. "It seems to be from a woman..." He noted this down. "Or a young man... I can tell from the way the nail is kept and the lines on the knuckles..." He stood and glanced over at Iago.

"I think this trip to the station is going to be really fun, don't you?" he asked, pocketing his notebook and casting his gaze quickly over the scene.

Iago sighed, crossing his arms lightly and nodding with a little hesitation. "Fun." He seemed to agree. "Kind of like a broken leg." Try as he might, the man couldn't figure it out---a severed finger below the scene of a pretty gruesome crime, but obviously it wasn't the victim's. Unless it was, since neither of them had seen the body yet. The finger could have been removed as a form of torture, or a message that he just couldn't figure out right now. But wouldn't the severed finger have been included in the description? If Iago thought back, he knew of a few gangs that cut off either the pinkie finger or index finger of those that might owe them debts or have learned things they shouldn't have.

He didn't decide to stay stationary and think on it, however. He led the way to the car, getting in the driver side door and waiting for Will. There would be plenty of ways to figure out what the finger meant, and what the state of the body was.

Will double checked he had everything and followed Iago to the car, poking his tongue out at Detective Kind as they passed him. He scowled, but said nothing, obviously annoyed he hadn't found the finger before they did.

He sat in the passenger's seat, strapping himself in and turning the talkback radio up. They were onto the subject of the crime scene the two had just walked out from. Will's eyes moved to the media vans that had shown up and saw the station's host interviewing Lawrence, who seemed a bit unnerved as usual when being asked questions. Will didn't envy him.

"Maybe our victim cut off the assailant's finger while protecting himself," he wondered out loud, glancing at Iago. The man seemed to be just as stumped as he was.

Iago pulled away from the warehouse's front, avoiding the media vans and police units that hadn't moved yet. The department was a ten-minute drive away, and since it was the middle of the day, no morning or evening rush would hold them up. "While protecting himself?" Iago repeated, in a slight state of disbelief. "The cut looked too clean, though. Like it was either made by a cleaver or a pair of garden shears. The way it was such a clean cut, it... doesn't make sense. And who would be able to make someone stand still long enough to cut their finger off? And if so, where's the weapon that cut the finger off? It would be nearby, or close enough to see from where we were standing."

Unless it was taken by one of the attackers. Then it would have put just a little more space between them and the final piece of the puzzle.