Carver's Blade

Warning
The following contains dark references, blood, and negative material

---

Iago opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. His bedroom window was positioned just so that the morning sun, at around six-thirty in the morning when it was halfway through spring, managed to smack him right in the face. He groaned, turning over and throwing a pillow at the window, knocking the curtain down from where it was hanging and darkening the room via the blackout blinds. He laughed at the luck he had, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes he couldn't remember having moved and was always a little surprised by the pale, eggshell-white ceiling above him as opposed to a beige, water-spotted one. He'd moved from that apartment three years ago because just the sight of that awful color and texture made his chest tighten and his throat close up. Too many memories within those walls. Memories he was told time and again that he just needed to let go, but couldn't. Not fully, at least.

He turned over onto his side and sat up, grinding his teeth as he bent his right knee, rubbing it slowly. The grinding sensation, the daggers that flew up and down his leg, was just another memory, but one he could handle. He stood and stretched, making his way around the bed and shaking the stiffness out of his leg as he walked. Pulling open the door to his bedroom, Iago was met with a cool burst of air. Always the silence, the stillness. He was told he needed a pet, but didn't feel it would be fair to the poor thing if he were gone too long. So the silence was just something he had to deal with until he could get the hell out of his apartment and into work. He'd been welcomed back to the police department a couple years back, and was glad for that. It let him focus on something that wasn't his crumbled life. Breathing out in a half-sigh, he slid into his bathroom and started a hot shower. It was too warm for one, normally, but his aching knee would thank him with a bit of relief throughout the day. After he got moving, it wouldn't hurt much anymore.

He spent nearly half an hour under the hot spray, wondering if he could open his mouth and just drown himself like wild turkeys were rumored to do during rainfalls. He doubted it, so he got out and dried himself, tying a towel around his waist as he left his bathroom and padded to the kitchen. It was open to the living room, and everything was dark tinted, wood and beige tones that were easy on the eyes while being contemporary and updated. He started strong coffee through the coffee maker and absentmindedly put a spoon in his mouth to keep occupied as he busied his idle hands by making breakfast. If he remembered correctly, all he really had to do today was paperwork. And paperwork was mind-numbing. He rolled his eyes, biting down on the spoon in his mouth as he cracked eggs and stared at the front door as if it would suddenly open.

Renee Williams had been out all night with her girlfriends, going to various clubs and bars in search of fun and perhaps a guy they could sleep with. She ended up going home with her best friend to sleep the drunkenness off, knowing that her father wouldn't be too pleased to see her in such a state after she told him she was simply having a slumber party. It was already 10am and for some reason, her father wasn't answering the phone when she called to ask if he could pick her up. Thinking that he was busy gardening, she had a shower at her friend's place and started the long walk home.

As she approached her street, her eyes were drawn to a black car, which was turning from her street. A strange feeling of deep dread appeared in her stomach. She shrugged it off as being hung over, walking to her house and opening the gate. Her father's car was parked in the driveway but she couldn't see him anywhere outside. Maybe he had fallen asleep on the couch watching sports. She sighed and opened the front door, trudging up the hallway.

"Daaaad! I'm home!" she cried, poking her head into the living room to find he wasn't sitting on the couch. "What's for lunch?"

She went to her bedroom, which was at the end of the hall. She had a fairly large room, which had once been her parent's master bedroom. But her father moved into a smaller room once her mother died just a few years ago. She had been quick to decorate the room with posters of her favourite singers and celebrities, and photos of her mother and friends. She dumped her bag full of clothes onto her double bed and left her room. Where was her father?

"Daaaad! Where are you?" she called as she walked back the hallway. Silence answered her as she noticed that the door to the basement was slightly open. Maybe he was down there doing something? She hated the basement after watching one-too-many horror movies, so she opened the door and looked down the stairs. The light was on, but she couldn't hear anything. "Dad? Are you down there...?" She was shaking a little now, feeling that sick dread again. "D-Dad? This isn't funny..."

Her father wasn't known to have a good sense of humour. It would be out of character if he was hiding and trying to scare his daughter. Renee gulped and slowly walked down the stairs, her legs shaking slightly. "Dad?" She cautiously peered around the corner and into the basement, her heart stopping as she saw the bloody sight in front of her. She opened her mouth and screamed.

-

Cedric blinked awake, dully looking at his alarm clock next to him. It was about to go off, but something had made him awake before the alarm. His stomach knotted suddenly as he thought about his new job. He had been promoted just yesterday and transferred from his small hometown to this city. He had yet to meet his new work mates, his boss or his partner. He hoped he made a good impression.

He reached over and turned the alarm off before it could ring, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He had slept alright in his new bed, though he missed his old home. The apartment he had been given wasn't as homely as he would have liked, though he planned to decorate it as soon as he had the time. He also needed a TV. He frowned slightly as he thought this, leaving his bed to go to the bathroom.

He cleaned his face and shaved, combing his hair before going to his bedroom to get dressed. As he stepped into his pants, his phone started to ring. Startled, he hopped over to it, wondering who would be calling him. No one knew his new number as he had yet to give it to his mother and father. "Hullo?" he answered it, resting it on his shoulder so he could buckle his belt. "Speaking to Cedric."

"Mr Anders, this is Lawrence, the captain of the police. I know we haven't met quite yet, but we need you right now. There's been some sort of... Ritual and well, the results aren't very pretty. You'll meet your partner at the scene." Cedric was surprised to be put on a case so soon. His boss sounded like a nice enough guy, introducing himself by his first name. But he wondered what he meant by ritual.

"Oh! Um... Sure! Do I need to bring anything?" he asked, noting the address that was given to him.

"Bring what you think you need, Mr Anders," Lawrence replied, chuckling slightly. "Just get here pronto. We have CSI down here at the moment, but you'll want to get in before the police start to stomp around the place."

Cedric nodded, even though he was on the phone. "Yessir, I will be there in a jiffy." He hung the phone up and left his apartment, making sure to lock the door on his way out. There was a taxi stand just across the road from where he lived, and since he didn't know his way around the city, or knew how to drive, he would take a cab there.

It was a fine day, which was good because he forgot his jacket. He ran across the street and jumped into a yellow cab, asking to be taken to Willowbark Drive. The taxi could only drive him so far without being stopped by police, so he paid the driver at the corner and stepped under the tape, flashing his badge at the guards.

He didn't make a big show of setting a table and actually dressing before he ate a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon at the breakfast bar and stared at the news. It was going to be a warm day, so he made sure to make a commitment to dress cool. He did his best work when he wasn't overheated. As he did the dishes, he held a strawberry between his teeth as if it were a pacifier, running his tongue over the juice that seeped out when he rearranged it in his mouth, biting down just a little more, never enough to push his teeth all the way through. When he put the clean dishes away, his phone rang. Biting the strawberry through, he set the bulk of it down and swallowed quickly before fishing it out of yesterday's jeans and putting it to his ear. "Yep." There were few people that would call him so early, and he expected the voice on the other end.

"Iggs, we got a pretty bad one today."

"Murder?"

"Anything else?" Lawrence sounded exasperated. Murder meant work, but it was never a positive thing when someone was killed, not for anyone involved. Iago nodded to himself.

"Yeah, I guess. I'll be down soon."

"Good, you'll be able to meet your new partner."

Iago groaned loudly. He'd expected to eventually be paired up with someone else, and had counted himself lucky that he'd been alone so long. He worked well alone now. "Lawrence, for the love of God..."

"No God-loving, young man. You haul your ass down to the address I'm texting you after I end this call and you put on a friendly face!" Iago snickered at the way Lawrence took on a fatherly tone, but the captain didn't sound like he was joking. "Iggy, you gotta get over it."

Iago sighed, walking out of his kitchen and going back to his bedroom, running his free hand through his dark red hair. "Yeah, I know, Law."

"Throwing yourself at your work like this isn't gonna help, I'm telling you---"

"I know, Law." Iago pulled a white shirt and pale blue jeans out of his closet---a look he loved, simple and clean and just good---and sat on his bed so his right knee didn't have to support too much weight while one hand was busy with his phone. "At least lemme hear his name..."

"Cedric. Anders."

Iago nodded. "Yeah, cool... good... I'll be there soon, text me the address..."

"Will do. Iggy, you'll be okay."

"That's up for debate." Iago sighed and ended the call before Lawrence could add anything, slipping on the shirt and going to his bedside table. He buckled his belt, which had his holster, a pouch, and his badge hooked onto it, and slipped his phone and a few painkillers into his pocket in case they were necessary sometime throughout the day. He barely limped as he went to his wardrobe and pulled a pair of socks out, sliding them on with one hand and jumping into his black boots, knotting them tightly and stretching, carefully doing so as he moved to stretch his right leg. There was a slight pull and ache, but nothing more, and he stepped out of his room and to the kitchen, digging in the cupboard for the bag of Jolly Ranchers he kept up there. He unwrapped a sour apple one and popped it in his mouth as he picked up his gun---which he'd nearly fallen asleep cleaning last night---and his keys, locking the front door before leaving his apartment.

He was on the second floor in this particular complex. It was more updated, in a good part of town, and nearer to the precinct than the last one. He decided to test his knee today and took the stairs, glad to feel it was obeying him today. Rearranging the hard candy in his mouth, Iago stepped outside and breathed in. It smelled like a city, of course, but a rather clean city. Except for the murder, of course. He turned and went to his parking spot, where an apple-red car sat. He'd sold his last one, once again refreshing his life and trying to leave the past behind. It wasn't working, though, and often he found himself switching to a talkback station and not really listening to the conversations that were being held. When he started the car, he did just that, snorting when he listened for a minute and realized they were talking about global warming being a myth. Rolling his eyes, he rolled into the thin traffic and his phone buzzed. Lawrence had texted him, and the address wasn't more than twenty minutes away. He programmed it into his GPS, and a light, airy female voice began commanding him this way and that.

Cedric waited near the entrance of the house nervously, watching the CI's dust ever surface for prints and take photos of various places in the house. He was approached by a man wearing a neat suit, whose hair was neatly styled. He had the air of importance about him, even though his face was kind. He smiled when he noticed Cedric and shook his hand. "Ah, glad to finally meet you, Cedric, isn't it?"

"You must be Lawrence, sir," Cedric nodded in reply, trying to shake the man's hand firmly. He was sweating quite a lot as he peered back into the house. "Um... What happened?"

Lawrence sighed. "We should wait for your partner for the briefing, but what I can tell you is that it's a bloody mess down there. So far the CI's haven't found any footprints or fingerprints. It's all very strange."

Cedric gulped and wiped his forehead where tiny beads of sweat were forming. He really didn't like blood and had expected the crime scene to be cleaned before he went in. "Is the body... Um... Victim still down there?"

Lawrence nodded and looked over to where a white van sat. "We don't remove the body until CI have finished taking the pictures. If you and Igao are quick enough, you can get down there and see it how it was when the poor girl saw it."

"Poor girl...? Someone found the victim?"

Lawrence nodded and pointed towards a hastily put up tent which was surrounded by police and neighbours alike. "They are interrogating right now. She was the man's daughter, came home and found him in the basement tied up to the wall and butchered. Hate to be her." Cedric shuddered at the thought, his hand wandering up to his neck where he kept a locket with the pictures of his mum and dad in for good luck. "Ah! Here's your partner now! Don't be shy, he can be a bit of a grump, but I am sure he'll like you enough."

When the talkback show got entirely too insufferable, Iago rolled his eyes and changed the station to something random. He didn't recognize the song but it was evidently on a high note. Sticking his tongue out, he listened as the GPS ordered him to take a left in fifty feet and slipped a CD out of the dozen or so he had in his collective and slid it into the player. Liszt began swelling through the speakers and he sighed in relief at the familiar, wholly personal music as he turned and slid through the shadowy street. It was a two-lane residential area, no lines on the road, a few stop signs and zero no-parking notifications. Posters were nailed to street poles informing people of yard sales and garage sales this weekend, and Iago smiled a little, crunching the last of the hard candy in his mouth and digging for a strawberry flavored one as he approached the outer ring of police tape and CSI vans. Popping it into his mouth, he jumped out of his car and nodded to the older officer that was standing at the ready in case some curious or nosy neighbors came poking around.

"Detective Brennan." The older officer said, nodding in turn. Iago gave him a small smile and ducked under the tape, catching sight of Lawrence with someone new---a younger guy, he looked terribly nervous. He almost smiled, but was worried that this was the guy Lawrence had mentioned over the phone. He kept himself from showing his discontent outwardly, but Lawrence seemed to have a sixth sense regarding every one of Iago's emotions, which the thirty-two-year-old had to admit was very creepy. Lawrence, therefore, left the man and approached after a quick word to the guy, who Iago assumed was Cedric. "No." He said as soon as Lawrence was in earshot.

"Hell yes." Lawrence said sturdily. "He's a rookie'n all, but you think I'll put you up with a newbie that's incompetent?"

"I don't, but---"

"Stop being an ass, Iggy, it's not you." Lawrence put a finger in Iago's chest and pushed a little. "Go say hi to the guy and make him feel welcome. You remember when I put you out in patrol the first time? Those sumbitches made your life shit."

"Yeah, yeah..." Iago rolled his eyes at the mention of patrol. He'd hated it, and had no one that had been willing to take any time with him. He stepped forward, toward Cedric and stopped a few feet away. "Hey." He said, offering a hand. "Iago Brennan, head detective. I was told you'd be with me." The term my new partner didn't sit well in Iago's head, so he directly dodged it.

Cedric looked Iago up and down, trying to find words to describe the man. Dishevelled, but yet... Something about him screamed 'detective'. He wondered how long Iago had been doing his job as he shook the man's hand and smelt candy on his breath. "Um... Hi, sir. I'm Cedric Anders. I... Just moved here and am sort of new to this whole... Thing. I hope I... I hope I am not too troublesome for you. I've heard a lot about you from my old boss and I am honoured to be by your side." Cedric went quiet and hoped he didn't sound too formal or strange. He pulled out a notepad and pen and gave Lawrence an expectant look.

"About 10 this morning, the vic's daughter came home to find him naked, tied to the basement wall and covered in blood. There appears to be some sort of... Pattern carved into his back. We are interrogating the neighbours and daughter, but no one noticed a thing it seems. Who ever the culprit is, he entered without breaking in and managed to get the man down to the basement without a struggle.

"The victim's name is Rodger Yowe, 45 years old. He works as a labourer for the local workforce, who mainly do road works and whatnot. His wife recently passed away, and his daughter is the only other person that lives with him. We are unsure of motive at this point. And it seems that the CIs have finished up if you want to go in and have a look at the crime before they come to take the body away."

Cedric had only finished writing down what Lawrence had said. He looked over his notes again, trying to procrastinate. He really didn't want to see the body, but Iago was already walking through the door and casting a steady eye over everything as he made his way towards the basement. Cedric didn't want to look soft in front of his new partner, so he inhaled deeply and rushed after him.

God, did he look as old as some days made him feel? What was with the 'sir' thing? Most newbies referred to him as Mr. Brennan until they were told explicitly to use his first name, or some variation of that name. None really felt right in doing that until they had known him for about a year, though. Glancing toward Lawrence as he relayed the information to him and Cedric, he glanced at the house. It was nice, a sturdy brick thing with a two car garage and a well-kept yard. More than well-kept. Either the man or the daughter had to be really into gardening. What caught Iago's attention was the mention of a pattern carved into the victim's back. That was rather new. He nodded when Lawrence fell silent, walking up the path and to the door, stepping in and looking around very carefully. The inside was cool, lit with a couple table lamps, and looked otherwise clean. "Doesn't look like a struggle happened..." Iago noted, looking past the men and women already in the house. "Unless everything was put back where it was... or the victim was immediately threatened with a weapon and too intimidated to fight back... A lot of possibilities..." They were running through his mind. A struggle that was cleaned up before the killer left. A gun or knife to the man's throat as he was ordered to the basement. Maybe the man even knew the killer, or had been expecting him. Maybe he'd been knocked out, but that was something for the coroner to figure out, and he didn't seem to have arrived yet.

Lawrence stepped in with Cedric and Iago turned to face them both. "Where's the daughter?"

"She was hysterical. We took her to the precinct to calm down and hopefully help us with something. So far we just haven't found anything. The basement's over that way, down the hall." He pointed left, and Iago looked to Cedric, giving him a 'come on' look and starting forward.

The staircase was brightly lit, and it was silent downstairs. All the lights were on, and before he got halfway down Iago smelt a disgusting combination of odors, mostly blood, followed by bodily fluids, no doubt expelled during the terror of being murdered or after the muscles loosened in death. The middle-aged man had been cut down from where he'd been hanging against the far wall. It was a finished basement, complete with white carpeting and a television in the corner of the room. Blood was splattered all over, clothes that had been cut and ripped littered about. The victim, Rodger, was face-down so Iago and Cedric could easily see the carving in his back. He paused to take his shoes off so he avoided tracking anything too close, and in socks, Iago made sure to avoid the puddles of blood and crept close to the body. "Pentagram." He said, pointing. It was intricate, however, not quickly slashed into the skin.

"The guy was alive when he was carved into." Iago observed. "A lot of lividity around the cuts. There's... smaller cuts inside the pentagram. It looks like a dragon head...?" It was definitely intricate. The killer had taken his sweet time, as if he weren't in a hurry. As if he felt he were better than everyone else.

Cedric closed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, gagging slightly at the smell that assaulted him. He slowly opened his eyes and almost immediately vomited at the sight. Blood was everywhere. He felt light headed, but tried his best not to faint. He found a clean surface to leaned against as Iago went to inspect the body. Cedric tried not to imagine what it was like to be tied up and tortured for possibly several hours. Lawrence glanced over at him and smiled slightly.

"You OK there? You're looking pretty pale..."

"Fine. Just... Fine. How... How could this happen without anyone hearing him? Surely he screamed... The neighbours are pretty close and the neighbourhood looks quiet enough that if someone heard screaming they would be suspicious." As he talked, he kept his eyes off the blood and the body, pretending to be looking about the walls for clues. "I mean, there's lots of windows..."

Iago stood up straight and stared at Cedric carefully. That pale face and the obvious half-glazed look in his eye was familiar. Either the smell had gotten to him, or he was afraid of blood. Or both. And neither would work out well if Cedric couldn't get over them. He gave Lawrence a glare, and the man just shrugged it off. Then Iago looked at Cedric. "Yeah." He stepped over an arm of blood to make it to the man's head, and waved at Lawrence. "Glove." A white latex glove was brought out of the man's pocket and he grabbed it when it was thrown, slipping it onto his right hand and grasping a handful of the victim's hair. He lifted his head with a little difficulty since rigor mortis had set in already, and with a bit of force, turned the head.

Rodger's face was beaten pretty heavily, and cuts lined his cheeks and forehead. Iago opened the man's mouth with two fingers and reached in. "Gotta be something..." He bit his lip, forcing out something that had been balled up. "Aha...! Here." He tossed it onto the floor with a disgusted face. "Looks like a sock, balled up and stuffed in his mouth to make him keep quiet. He'd have screamed, but he wouldn't have made too much noise. Might have kept him fearing asphyxiation, too, so he wouldn't have tried to struggle to risk swallowing a bit of the sock and choking." He stood upright, grimacing and rubbing his knee with a quiet curse. "God... Okay, get the coroner in here so we can look around." He nodded to Lawrence, who returned it. Then he glanced at Cedric. "See? He likes you!" The words were quiet so Iago didn't register them, but Lawrence laughed and moved to go upstairs.

He smiled slightly at Lawrence, but didn't feel like laughing. He knew when he took this job that there would be a chance of him seeing blood. He just didn't think it would be straight away and this much. He felt bile burning in his throat and he closed his eyes and turned his head. Flashes of blood popped up in his head, the staring, unseeing eyes of his best friend, the screams.... When he opened his eyes he had collapsed on the stairs. He blushed and looked over to Igao, hoping the man hadn't noticed.

"I... I'm sorry. I just didn't... Expect..." He pulled out a handkerchief from within his pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "I didn't expect to see so much blood..." He had to get out, get away from the scene, but he knew Iago would think less of him if he chickened out. He stared at the floor, his heart racing when he noticed something. "Barefeet." He pointed at a faint dirt mark on the carpet that looked fresh. "He was barefoot...."

Iago stared at Cedric with his usual evaluating gaze. He was definitely new. And definitely had some kind of hemophobia. It was enough not to directly vomit or pass out at the sight of blood but there was something wrong there. He looked down at where Cedric referred and hated it, but bent his knee to get closer. "Yeah." He nodded. "Probably because he was home at the time of the attack. I don't exactly wear my shoes around my apartment." In fact, he hated doing it. He took them off and carried them to his room or left them by the door. He'd always get bent out of shape if someone defied that particular rule after he told them about it.

Iago pulled up one of his feet, bending the leg with a little effort and studying the soles of his feet. They were somewhat dirty, and Iago made a face. He hated dirty feet. One of his least favorite things. He set it down and looked up at Cedric. "He was at home at the time of the attack, but we'll have to wait for the coroner to tell us an official time of death. The wounds in the back wouldn't kill him but I can't tell what has... No lig marks, or obvious stab wounds." He gritted his teeth and stood, growling and shaking his leg out. "Go on up, we'll give the guys a little time to get this one out." He stepped aside, over the blood and grabbed his discarded shoes to put on upstairs.

Cedric glanced at the left foot of the dead guy and then back at the footprint. He frowned, something bugging him slightly. "Detective Brennan. This man has five toes." He pointed at the body, but didn't look at him. "The footprint only has four..." He crouched, looking carefully at the dirty marks. There wasn't even a hint of a fifth toe on the mark. ''I need to see the garden..."

He was pleased for a reason to leave the smelly, bloody basement. He climbed up the steps, passing by the people who were going to salvage the body. He went straight outside and looked about in the gardens and flowerbeds. He was surprised by what he found.

"Detective Brennan!" He called Iago over to him, pointing at a part of the ground that seemed as though it had been recently disturbed. He pulled out a glove, which he had stored in one of his pockets, and dug into the earth, finding a small bottle with a piece of paper crammed into it. "I found something!" He felt excited, as he carefully opened the bottle and unfurled the paper with his gloved hand. Inside was a note, written with a typewriter. He cast an eye over it, feeling disappointed. "It's in some jibberish..."

Iago paused to stared at the footprint. That was true, it had four instead of five toes. When he passed a CI he grabbed their arm. "Photograph every inch of the floor and make sure you get the footprints too, multiple shots." When the woman nodded her confirmation, he followed toward where Cedric had vanished toward the outside. He passed Lawrence.

"How's it going?" The older man asked, nudging Iago slightly with his elbow. "He got a good eye?"

"Yeah, pretty good." Iago nodded. "Looks like the killer's got four toes on one foot, he tracked a few bloody footprints around down there."

"That's pretty important. Not bad. Any particular motive you can see?"

"Not that I know of. I doubt this guy's a satanist and the cuts form a pentagram." He went quiet when Cedric called him, breezing by Lawrence and out the door to where the new guy was crouched. "Don't write it off like that so fast." He said, grimacing when he took the dirty bottle with a tissue. "Ugh... Hm..." He waved someone from nearby and indicated the bottle. "Could be some fingerprints. Doubtful, but there might be something else..." He took a bag from the man that approached and slid the bottle in, then handed it back. "Good, Anders, you did good. Could do better with blood, though. Might like to see to that."

He stood, stretched, and shook his leg out. "C'mon, I think we're about done here. We'll be talking to the daughter when we get back to the precinct." Biting through the sliver of candy in his mouth, Iago didn't quite realize he was searching around for another wrapped candy until he had the plastic halfway off. He studied it, glanced around for Lawrence, and popped it into his mouth before crumpling the paper and slipping it into his pocket again.

Cedric smiled, feeling happy that he had been complimented. He had noticed something and it had given them more than one clue. He thought about calling his mother up and telling her all about his accomplishments when Iago mentioned going back to the precinct. He blushed slightly and looked at his feet. "Um... Detective Brennan sir... Um... I don't have a car... And I don't know where the precinct is just yet... I only moved here yesterday. I was wondering... Maybe... You could give me a ride? If it's alright with you, that is. If not, I can take a cab..."

He felt weird asking Iago for a ride, as though he would be breaching unspoken work rules. Back in his old town, he was given a police car to drive around in and he was hoping he'd get something similar at his new job, but he had yet to be able to be properly introduced to the station.

Iago felt a little smile work onto his face. Cedric seemed entirely overjoyed to receive a compliment like that, and the expression wasn't lost on Iago. He felt the same way before he just went through the motions, now looking for what others might overlook, being corrected by others that saw what he just didn't in the moment. While it was nice to work alone, it was good to at least have someone hovering nearby to catch what he didn't. Now he'd have someone around all the time. Like before. He sighed, shaking himself out of his thoughts in time to hear Cedric speaking.

"Huh? Oh, hell, sure." He nodded and looked around. "And stop with the 'sir' thing. I hate it." He rolled his eyes, feeling as if the term was meant for men at least a decade older than him. "C'mon, we'll talk to Lawrence, let him know we're meeting him back there." He waved toward Cedric and heading back into the house. "Larry!" He called, catching the attention of several others before him. "We're heading back. Where's Kind?"

"Traffic." Lawrence gave a smug smile. "Put 'im there for roughing up a robbery victim."

Iago laughed, then cut it short. "Well, good he's not there." He glanced at Cedric. That particular detective could be an insufferable ass, to say the very least.

Cedric nodded, feeling bad that he had made Iago annoyed. He just wanted to please, but if Iago didn't like being called 'sir', he wouldn't do it. He followed the detective, hearing him ask about 'Kind', no doubt a person. Cedric wondered what sort of person he was, but before he could ask, he was led to Iago's bright red car. It seemed too cute and cheery to belong to the serious-looking man. Cedric smiled as he sat in the passenger side, buckling his seat belt and waiting for Iago to be ready.

Iago left the house quickly with Cedric, ducking under the tape to get to his car. He cursed his little limp, which at least wasn't as bad as it used to be but was still present nonetheless. It made people pity him and he hated pity more than he cared to say. Reaching the car, he slid in and buckled himself alongside Cedric, glancing sideways. "You did good." He said simply. Elaboration, in his opinion, was unnecessary. "Except the blood thing. You should start exposing yourself to blood a little more off the clock, at leas the fake stuff. Squeamish isn't exactly a thing I like to see in someone." He started the car and backed away from the police tape, making a tight U-turn and going back the way he'd come earlier.

Cedric blushed and stared down at his hands which rested in his knees. It was that obvious... Iago sounded disappointed, as though Cedric's phobia would drag them down. "I... I've never been too good with... Gore... Blood and stuff... Heck, that was the first dead body I have actually seen. I'm sorry if I was a bit... Faint, Detective Brennan. I promise to work on my phobia."

As they drove through the city, Cedric glanced out the window, watching the world go by. He had yet to find his bearings in this large place, and hoped he could remember where everything was. The music that was playing in Iago's car was soothing, but Cedric wished they could listen to talk back radio. A lot of people complained about how he found such a boring station interesting, but Cedric didn't care. He always loved to hear what other people thought about different topics. He didn't ask to change the station, however, keeping quiet until they pulled into the police station.

Iago was quiet, enjoying that Cedric seemed to know when to speak and when to let the silence do the talking. He leaned his elbow on the window and twisted his hair between thumb and forefinger, considering just what Cedric had said. It was confusing. Simply confusing. He didn't know how to take it, so he shook his head and found his assigned parking spot when they pulled into the parking lot. They didn't speak until they stepped into the lobby. It had warm, familiar tones. Brown marble tile floors, slightly domed roofs, tan walls and leather seats nearby gave the place a rather nonthreatening look at first, until suspects reached interview rooms, some of which were off to the left through a set of double doors. They were small, bleak, and stark, and none had ventilation systems.

"We'll be talking to the daughter of the victim." Iago said. "See if she knows anything that might concern us about her father, any enemies, recent changes, secrets she might know about him. I figure you'll be better with the living variety of people than the dead right now." He pointed to the hall to the right, leading the way down. It met a larger hallway and they turned left, passing two doors and coming to a third marked "Investigative Division". There were several rows of desks in the room with detectives' names beside their computers. A few men and women were milling about, working or talking. Iago pointed Cedric to a door that read "Interview 3-E". "She's in there. I figure you know how to conduct an interview, so I'll let you take it alone." He patted Cedric's shoulder and stepped away, slipping into the video observation room at the end of the hall to keep an eye on things.

The station was a lot larger than the one he was used to. There were a lot more people here than at his old job, where there had only been five to six police at one time. He followed Iago through the building, half expecting a tour but not receiving one. He noticed how the man limped and wondered if he had been shot in the leg or something. Cedric had yet to be shot and he was hoping he never would.

He nodded when talked to, sighing slightly. Interviewing the distressed daughter wouldn't be easy. But he was good with people, and his friendly demener usually made it easy for him to be talked to. He wished Iago would come with him, but he was sure he'd be watching from another room. Feeling slightly pressured, Cedric went to the room pointed out and entered it slowly.

Renee was sitting at a table, looking distressed. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were red and swollen. It made Cedric feel really bad, and his heart ached for her. He found a file with some of her details in and sat down, smiling softly at her.

"Miss Williams, I am Detective Anders... But you can call me Cedric if it makes you more comfortable. I just need to ask a few questions about... Well... What happened."

"I've already told you guys what happened. I came hoe and my Dad was...." She choked, tears falling from her eyes once more. Cedric frowned, getting out of his seat and going by her. Gently, he comforted her, offering a box of tissues.

"It's OK, Miss Williams. Ssh... We contacted your Aunty and she is on her way. You won't be alone much longer, I promise you. I just need to know a few details, it will help us find the sicko that did this so your father can have his justice." The girl hiccoughed slightly, burying her face into Cedric's shoulder. "I... Well, I'm not alone. I'm working with a really smart man, and I am sure he'll help us find the guy that did this."

She nodded and sighed, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes on the tissues provided. "OK... Cedric. I'll tell you all I know... Just... Promise me you'll catch the guy." Cedric knew it would be too much to promise. A lot of crimes went unsolved and this case seemed like it might be a hard one. But he nodded.

"I promise you, Miss Williams."

Since there weren't any other interviews going on, Iago was alone in the dim room. He flipped an overhead light on and sat in front of the video monitors, selecting the window that was currently occupied and accessing the room's microphone system. Brushing his hair back and rubbing his face, Iago sat back and crossed his arms. Cedric appeared quickly, and he leaned forward to listen, rolling the chair up to the desk. While most precincts had two-way mirrors to watch and listen through, the four blank walls gave suspects a sense of entrapment, but also the sense of freedom one would get as if they weren't being watched. He seriously doubted the daughter was the culprit, certainly in any way. No one could simply order this done, not with the time it took, the meticulous manner it was laid out. This was a psychopath. Someone that knew what they were doing, knew they had time, knew the daughter wouldn't be home... A neighbor, perhaps...?

Iago shook his head and stared at the screen, listening in on Cedric and the young woman. He certainly had a familiar way of comforting people. "God, you gotta bring that up..." Iago growled to himself. "Maybe it'd be easier if I didn't think at all. Be one of those idiot detectives on those primetime TV shows that don't think, they only 'wanna see results'. How they keep their damn job's beyond me..." He snorted and leaned forward, knitting his brow.

"Damn, Ric, you're not supposed to promise... You're supposed to say we'll do what we can. Never promise." And that was especially critical with this particular murder. They knew nothing so far. The killing was so nonsensical and what was recovered was so sparse and odd that it could take quite a while to figure out what was even happening.

Renee shifted in her seat again. "I don't know who could have done it... I was out at a friend's place when it happened..."

"I understand this, Miss Wlliams." He showed her the paper that had a few points written on it from previous interrogations. "You were out of the house and came home to a terrible scene. You are not under suspicion at all Miss Williams. I want to know if your father had any enemies... Or anyone you can think of that would want to do him harm."

The dishevelled girl shook her head. "Dad... He was well-liked... I never heard him quarrel with anyone..." Cedric nodded. It seemed like this could have been a completely random event. "He... He did have lots of different people come and go... I..." Renee seemed unsure and she stared at her fingers until Cedric asked her to continue. "He... Had lots of men come over and spend the night... He... After mum died he could be... What he really wanted to be..."

"Your father... Liked the company of men? He had a few come around? Where they different every time or...?" Cedric glanced at the camera, hoping Iago was listening. This could be a big clue.

"They were all different... He went to nightclubs a lot and picked up younger dudes... I don't know, I never... I hated him for it... I called him all sorts of bad names... I..." she burst out crying again. "I never meant to... I was just mad he..." Cedric comforted her and handed her the box of tissues.

"It's OK, Miss Williams, I am certain he knew you didn't mean anything by it. But you have given us a big clue in catching this guy..." Cedric stood and sighed, glancing at the camera again. "Let me go check if your Aunt is here. You won't be alone in this room much longer."

Iago was sitting forward, pressing his hands to either side of his head. This was looking to be a strange case already. He didn't seem to have enemies, but was closeted until separating from his wife. Maybe his wife had something ordered... But then, hitmen were often messy and sure as hell didn't spend hours setting up a scene like what they'd found. A spurned lover didn't sound logical, either. He sighed. A neighbor? They couldn't just complain that it sounded wrong and move on to the next person on the list of suspects, which seemed to be huge. They'd have to move through the neighborhood to ask neighbors about the man. His life. What they knew or what seemed suspicious, if anything. If the victim could find so many willing guys so easily, he had to frequent one of the dozen or so gay clubs in the city.

When Cedric left the room, Iago stepped out of the observation room and twitched up a small smile. "Pretty good." He said. "I like the way you handled it. But you shouldn't promise anything before we're completely sure. Don't promise to catch the murderer, say that we're doing our best, because if we can't find him, we won't be able to keep our promise." He nodded to the desk at the far end of the room, beside a window, and led Cedric there, taking a seat and nodding to the chair beside it. "So, we've discovered a fair amount, but at the same time, barely anything at all." He said. "What do you think should be our next course?"

Cedric looked down at the pad he was holding, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Well... I'm confident we will catch him..." he muttered quietly, more to himself than to his new partner. He passed the notes over to the senior detective and looked at Renee on the monitor. She was crying again and Cedric did feel really sorry for her. "We interview the neighbours, see if they noticed anything suspicious. Maybe ask the Aunt if she knows anything more about our Vic, then we might have to go to these... Places one can find gay men to take home."

Cedric bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Says on the notes they found where that letter was from. A cipher written on common notepad paper, yet they can't recognise the cipher..." They had no other clues. "Maybe he got into something he wasn't planning on... I mean... Maybe it was some sort of... Ritual or sex thing gone wrong..."

Iago shook his head and sighed. "You can be confident you're made of steel, too, but it won't stop a bullet." He said as he took the notes and looked over them. Clean handwriting filled several pages of very detailed notes that he was happy to see. Cedric might have been confident, also, that he would remember what he was told, but it didn't let him slack in note taking, which was a rather boring and tedious part of a job so many people thought was nothing but guns and car chases, apparently. "Good thought process. First, neighbors. Then immediate family, and finally, social locations the vic frequents. These three avenues give us immediate grip on the most logical witnesses."

He set the notebook down after flipping it closed. "We'll have to wait for autopsy to come back with a confirmation, but I doubt sex was involved with the killing. It looked full of... logic, and malice. Nothing personally gained. And the cipher... It could be based on a language, something dead, but something the killer can understand. If it follows a predictable pattern based on a language that already exists, we could eventually find a way to read it, but that's not for us to handle. There's a linguistics team here that can take care of it, but we should intercept the aunt when she comes to pick up the vic's daughter." He turned to face Cedric with a more focused expression. "I'll get someone to inform us when the aunt arrives. Want a look around here so you don't get lost?"