The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster) (Completed)

It snowed in the city that night. A city that never slept finally took a much-needed rest, gently sleeping beneath its soft white covers. Never-empty streets were still, the endless chorus of cars had fallen silent, and even those who prowled the city by night on their endless wanderings between beer bottle and martini glass were quiet. Tonight, the city slept. But not everyone in the city respected the silence. Thieves crept into silent bedrooms to claim that which was never theirs, quiet knives slid between sleeping ribs, and, in a particular office building in the south side, a monster in human skin watched the snow softly fall.

In their last story, the press had named him the Bogeyman. It was one of half a dozen sobriquets he had acquired over the years, ever since the first time he'd decided that leaving the bodies undiscovered was simply insufficient. But there were only two names that actually mattered to him.

The first was Joseph, the first name given by his mother. A wonderfully sweet woman, always ready with a hug and a kiss, and so determined that her son would not grow up to be one of those awful men she read about in the morning papers. No, Joseph would be strong, and kind, and willing to lay down his life for what was right in the place of those who could not defend themselves.

The second was Heller, the surname given by his father. He had existed only for a dozen years before vanishing into the night, but some of the lessons he'd taught remained even today: never buy what you can take, the weak are yours to play with, and only pussies gave two shits about the law.

Joseph had grown up, and become his mother's child. But Heller had grown as well, undeniably his father's spawn. When the troubles started, Joseph had been horrified at what Heller knew to be glorious. So there had been fights, and problems, and doctors in their white coats who tutted at so much disunity in such a young man. The two of them would have destroyed each other before long, if either of them had been capable of it. Yet with every blade that nearly claimed Joseph and every poison that Heller nearly drank, each of them felt the hand of death upon their own shoulders.

And so, a compromise had been reached.

Dennis Kohr was one of those compromises. Engaged to a lovely young woman and recently promoted to junior partner in his law firm, Dennis' life appeared to be going perfectly. Certainly he had his skeletons in the closet, but who didn't these days? Of course, his skeleton was smaller than most, and there were more of them. So many children went missing in the city, so many were never even noticed, whispered those skeletons. How many of them had been found by the nice young lawyer?

Everything had gone perfectly. Joseph had found where the man lived, Heller had learned his routes and habits. Joseph had waited until he was sure of the man's guilt, while Heller waited until he was sure he would never be caught. As the snow fell upon the quiet city, Joseph had quietly stepped aside and watched it fall while Heller had waited inside Dennis Kohr's office. And as Dennis arrived in his office, answering the telephone summons of his senior partner that had been spoken by Joseph's tape recorder, Heller had finally gotten to enjoy himself. There were so few connoisseurs of his art of flesh and steel, yet he so hated to disappoint his fans. Looking back upon it, he was fairly certain that it was one of his best works. Heller had even been alive for over half of it.

And so it was, on the night that the snow fell upon the city, that the man named Joseph Heller thought that everything had gone as it always had, as it always would. It was rather a surprise to be so suddenly proven wrong.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

It was a strangely silent night, the only thing the woman could really tell from where she sat. The woman was accustomed to the cold touch of snow, the squealing sound of tired hitting ice, and all other signs of winter. And years ago, she even could remember the sight of the white blanket that covered her house in a layer of insulation. At the memory, the woman sighed softly, a chuckle coming from her left. "Reminiscing again, dear?"

The voice rang loudly in her now over-sensitive ears, "Perhaps, just thinking about the last time I saw Christmas lights." She spoke gently, pale fingers rolling the engagement ring on her finger, a habit she had.

"Well, with this new promotion, maybe we can try again to get your sight back." The woman could hear his smile, and she couldn't help put frown. Her accident was a memory she'd come to peace with, but in risk of upsetting him, she remained silent. "I'll just be in the other room finishing up this work, then I'll bring you home." His footsteps echoed in the empty space of the office building.

The memory of her accident, as in peace as she was to it, still came to her easily. It had been winter, she had been in a hurry to get home after a long night of bar tending, a skill she picked up to put herself through schooling after deciding to return after dropping out of her first year. The vehicle full of high-schoolers drinking and driving didn't even see her little body running across the icy road. After being hit at full speed by a mini-van and being left out in the cold for an hour or so, she was brought to the hospital, where they found the trauma had affected her sight, permanently.

Shaking her head, she relaxed back into the plush of her seat. Closing her sightless eyes and listening. Emile Burns didn't know anything about her husband-to-be's dark habits, his fondness for young boys, or about the things he hid in plain-sight. She dozed for a long moment, waking to the sound of a scuffle echoing through the empty halls. Her fiancé's office was behind two sets of thick doors, she was waiting in the opposite office, but at the noises that roused her, she fled to him.

Her hands found the doors with difficulty, but they were found in the end. The heels of her boots clicked as she walked, "Dennis?" She called into the empty air, saturated with a thick taste she wouldn't identify. Blinking cauterized eyes, the woman threw her head from side to side, shoulder length strawberry blond curls bounced against the leather jacket keeping her thin frame warm.

Something wasn't right about the room other than the taste of the air, her quick senses were able to pick this up. "Is someone else here?" Her voice was strong as she stepped into her fiancé's office, her boots slipping in something, hands going out for balance.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Obviously there had been a miscalculation somewhere within the plan. Everyone else in the office building had gone home, even the cleaning staff, and the night watchman was so useless that he might as well have been nonexistent. No one would have discovered the body until morning, and by that time Joseph Heller would have been asleep in his own bed with no one and nothing able to prove that he had been anywhere else that night. Simple, elegant, and with virtually no risk of detection or accidents.

But now, everything was at risk. As he heard the footsteps approaching the office, footsteps that simply should not have been there, Heller had been forced to rush the finishing touches on Kohr's remains and slide into the darkness beside the office door. The intruder would enter, be appropriately stunned by the horrific beauty before them, and Heller would grab them before they could recover. There was still enough time in the night to make his solo piece a duet-

No, Joseph had declared, from the place that the one slept while the other walked around. No one else dies. That's the deal, that's the rule. Heller had rather strong opinions about the rule, and was not at all shy about informing Joseph where he could place the rule and the domesticated animal it rode in on. The argument would have continued in its silent fury, but that was when the door opened.

"Dennis?" the woman called out, the scream of mind-shattering horror surprisingly absent. Heller frowned slightly as he watched her, the blade in his hand still stained with Dennis' blood. Could she not see the beauty before her, the twisted glory that could only be seen in what remained of a man? The realization was slow in coming: no, she could not. The woman stared blindly at the room before her. Heller could not help but smile; it was perfect. All he had to do was leave, and so he did.

Or rather, he intended to. Joseph did not appear to want to cooperate, still standing beside the now open door and watching the young woman the fiance, the one who doesn't know look for the man she didn't know had died.

"Is someone else here?" she demanded as she began to step forward, directly into the first of the pools of blood Dennis had left behind. Unprepared for the sudden motion she began to fall, and suddenly it was Joseph who was moving forward despite Heller's internal shouts of disbelief and rage. Quickly his hands, encased in leather gloves still wet with blood and fluids best not thought of, reached out to gently seize hers, providing the stability needed for her to regain her balance. Now what, you fucking idiot, Heller demanded, and Joseph was forced to admit he had little idea. He stood mutely, watching the blind woman and waiting to see what her reaction would be. Perhaps if he was lucky, she would simply think him to be Dennis.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile's heels had been bought by Dennis, the last gift he had given her before Christmas. She had explained them to him one night, how she had had such boots when she was a teenager, and she loved them. So after that, he came home with the boots she'd described. Who would have thought that this gift would run her into the arms of the man who'd killed the gift-giver. Obviously, she had no idea that this was the case, but to all else in the seeing world, it was as clear as the snow on the sidewalks.

Her hands clenched down on the slick ones offered out to her, her balance caught she 'phew'ed softly, just barely a whisper, before stopping moving. She didn't even think she was breathing anymore as she clasped the hand. "Wet? Dennis... did you break a vase or something?" She asked in a tiny voice. These hands... they were not right. But she knew Dennis owned a pair of gloves-- hell, she bought them for him. With the help of a friend or two.

After a strong inhale, she jerked back, bringing her hand to her chest. Her fiancé's blood smearing across the white tank she wore under the thick leather jacket. She turned her blind head from side to side, backing away from the person who offered her aid. "W-what's that smell?" She demanded in a weak voice, taking another small footstep backwards. Her heel hit something solid by soft, she turned as if to look. But just blinks her blank eyes in frustration.

"What the fuck is going on Dennis?!" She nearly whimpered, after taking a step back forward, towards the unseen hands. "Answer me god dammit!" All of this said while she flicks her head from side to side on confusion.

//Yikes, short. Sorry. x.x //

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Joseph's hands remained extended for a few moments after the blind woman jerked away, and he felt the need to comfort her, tell her what had happened, why it had needed to be done. But Heller screamed at him from the quiet place, and they both knew that giving this woman the comfort she needed would only give her everything she needed to be sure that he was arrested. This woman would cause trouble, whispered Heller, would draw the authorities, would be hounded by the press and taunted by the media; the only known witness to the Bogeyman, struck blind by the cruel hand of fate. Doubtless her blindness would end up being blamed on him as well, one way or another. Was it not kinder to simply end her before her mind could be shattered by what had happened, was happening, would happen?

Yet Joseph said no. No, he would not, could not kill this woman merely for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even when she tried to retreat from him, her foot striking a limb some distance from the others, there was nothing but sorrow in his eyes. There had been rules. There had been a deal. And now an innocent life was destroyed even though his victim still breathed.

The faces of his victims had occasionally run through his mind, but there was no regret there. Suddenly new faces began to appear, fathers, mothers, sons and daughters.

What had he done? What could he do?

It was several moments before Joseph Heller moved, but finally Joseph began to walk towards the desk, passing Dennis' still, defiled form and the nearly-panicking woman. He picked up the phone and dialed three numbers, tapping the button to activate the speakerphone.

"911, what's your emergency?" the voice answered after a single ring, startlingly loud in the silence of the room. Neither James nor Heller offered an answer, instead starting to head for the office's thick doors. He'd spent too long here already, taken too many chances, and for what? Some dumb bitch that's begging for a merciful death, answered Heller. A woman who's desperate to know what happened to the man she loved, answered James.

"911, what's your emergency? Is anyone there?" The voice followed him as he broke into a run, retreating down the stairs towards the back exit of the building. There was nothing he could do, not now. Not with Dennis Kohr's blood still upon his hands and blade.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

A hard gulp passed down her throat as she twisted her head, the movement she could hear. One didn't need eyes to notice when people shifted. She body shifted as she followed the movement, her heels clicking against the marble floors, the only noise other than the other man, though he could probably barely hear himself, where as she could hear it like he was clapping before her face. "Who--" her question stopped when the automatic voice came to echo within the room.

Emile stood dumbstruck at the 911 call for a long moment, listening to the man escape before she spoke, her voice echoing through the halls, a hiccup in her voice as she spoke. "I-I'm here..." She spoke, before moving closer to the sound of the phone, her hands outstretched before her. "I don't know what's going, please... someone help me."

"Are you injured ma'am?"

"No. But I can't find my husb-- Fiancé. He won't respond."

"Did you look for him--"

"I'm blind."

A single month passed from that moment and still Emile grieved, the clothing --all gifts from her dead fiance-- were all being kept as evidence. The woman spent at least an hour at the police station everyday, the only living person to have met the Bogeyman. She wasn't even missing a limb! Reporters stalked her every movement, people sent her letters she couldn't read, others called her to offer both condolences, and those who were deranged called asking if they could touch her to have a part of the Bogeyman. Emile had begun to stop picking up her phone in general.

One month and still not even a hair was found to link someone to the crime, and for a whole month the woman lived in her fiance's home with only the aid of a single cop who was sent to her daily to bring her in to the station -- she was a suspect, somehow.

It was the anniversary of her lover's death that day, she sat on the couch with a TV on for background noise in a living room in dire need of a clean, her thin fingers going over a letter she received in braille, an ad for a seeing eye dog, she was pondering it at around noon. Snowflakes touching the window to her left almost silently, in front of her, the TV blared about the Stock Market.

//Hope you don't mind the time-skip //

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Dennis Kohr was the fifth person that the Bogeyman had killed in this area. That was more then enough. It was time for Joseph Heller to move on, to lift up his ties and find a way to move on to another city, other unknown crimes that needed to be punished. Heller had already begun preparations to vanish and re-emerge elsewhere.

Not this time, Joseph had whispered, and suddenly things had become complicated. Surely you're not still worrying about that blind whore, Heller had demanded, knowing the truth even so. Joseph had always had trouble with what was happening, always tried to close his eyes against the screams and tears. He had succeeded in the past, because he had known that the ones bleeding under Heller's knife had deserved it. But now he had heard the weeping of an innocent, seen the tears of a harmless girl and known that he was responsible.

I was responsible, Heller asserted, but the distinction was meaningless now. Fine then, Heller had snarled, watching himself with cold contempt. What the fuck do you intend to do about it?

I don't know. Something.


As Emile sat within her home, a black and white squad car pulled up to the front of the house. As usual, it was not alone. Several cars already lined the streets before the building, and as usual a handful of people were trying to look nonchalant as they roamed the area. Some were just reporters, waiting to catch of a glimpse of the blind survivor and hoping to get a story that hadn't yet been printed. (Perhaps this would be the day the Bogeyman came back to finish the job; wouldn't that be Pulitzer material!) But others were worse, the vultures, each one with a plan to take advantage of the suffering within the quiet home. All of them reacted to the approaching car, all of them knew what it meant; soon the girl would emerge, and then they would have the chance to act.

The car pulled into the short driveway and the officer got out, glaring at the bystanders who quickly attempted to look harmless. With a faint mutter of disgust he walked up the short path towards the by-now familiar house, pressing firmly upon the doorbell. It was time for Emile's daily visit to the station, half-debriefing and half-interrogation. For all of the questions it raised, there were still some within the force who thought she was guilty, or covering for someone, and so the endless questioning continued. The officer standing outside her door, who'd been the one to pick her up every day for the past couple of weeks, knew that the questioning was pointless. He knew exactly what she did and did not know, and she didn't know anything that might have been useful. No one knew that better than him.

"Ms. Burns?" The officer called out as he stood outside the door. "It's me, Officer Heller."

((Not a problem.))

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Her fingers stopped moving over the little bumps, she paused to turn her head towards where she remembered the door to be. She put on a little smile, the officer was always nice to her he chose not to coddle, but to help. She shook her head once more, her hair was longer now, the strawberry blond curls hanging recklessly from her head, naturally creating a perfect slope for bangs and hanging over her shoulder blades like they were held there by some sort of force. Emile had lost weight since the death of her fiance, her slightly curvaceous form was losing it's luster as she had no desire to eat on most days.

Though today she would, today she had to, her noted this as her stomach rumbled in protest. Emile didn't wish to die, she knew Dennis would have frowned upon such thoughts, so she would push on.

Clearing her throat, she turned to the door, "Come in, Officer Heller." It was odd for her, to call people by their title, being as easy-going as she was. "I need a moment to get my shoes on anyways." She informed him as she searched for the remote on the couch next to her. Finding it, she turned off the noise and stood. The woman was barely five foot two with her back straight and head held high. By-standers thought that because she was blinded, she did not know they were there, so she acted as such.

Briskly the woman turned towards the door, letter still in hand. "I was thinking about getting a seeing eye dog, you know? A good old Labrador to keep me company and make sure I don't sway into oncoming traffic." She snickered a bit to herself, using her toes to find her shoes. The only pair of shoes she left out, an easy pair of slip on's. Today she wore simple jeans and a long sleeved, cream coloured shirt. On her left hand her engagement ring still stood, it's platinum band shone in the sunlight, the four diamonds --for the amount of year's they'd known each other-- glittered defiantly. No longer was it a simple engagement ring, and Emile knew one day she'd have to switch the finger it laid on, it was the reminder of Dennis. First, her lawyer's 'understudy', then her friend, then her romantic interest, and soon to be her husband.

Wiggling her foot after getting her shoes on, she turned up to face the officer --as it was polite to do so-- and smiled softly, rolling her ring in her nervous habit, her sensitive thumb pad brushing the diamonds reading them like she did braille. "I'm ready to go, officer."

She stepped out into the sunlight-- not that she could see it, but the warmth on her skin was enough to tell her it was there--, her back straight, head high. Behind her was a house she'd never seen, it was a larger house with white stucco sides and roman-styles pillars, three steps down from the platform would bring her down to the stone path, leading towards the driveway with her ride waiting, before the car was a large one-car garage. Her husband-to-be's Acura still sitting there, some of his secrets were still hidden in that garage, on a computer no one had found.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Joseph removed his hat as he opened the door and stepped into the home, exposing the neatly trimmed black hair that was a legacy of his father. Ultimately it was a fairly meaningless gesture since she couldn't see him, but he removed it nevertheless. His mother would have been so disappointed if he had failed to show a woman every courtesy, regardless of circumstances or horrible, dark secrets. Normally this would also have meant doing everything the poor blind woman needed doing, but he stood by the door and waited calmly as she prepared herself to go. If she couldn't rely on herself, then she would never be strong enough to get through the next few months.

He looked around the house as he waited. Emile seemed to be doing alright; certainly the place could use a good vacuuming, but that was more than understandable. But she was still playing with the ring, the engagement ring that Dennis had given her. Joseph had seen her playing with it hundreds of times in the past few weeks, and he still wasn't quite sure whether it was mere habit or a way of reminding herself what she had lost. Perhaps the ring should go missing, Heller idly wondered, but he was quickly silenced.

"That sounds like a fine idea," he said when she mentioned the seeing eye dog. You couldn't just nod and make neutral sounds when speaking with a blind person; if you didn't verbalize your thoughts, they might as well never have happened. "If you'd like to try it out, I could ask Officer Morric to lend you Sparky. He's one of our K-9 units, loves meeting new people."

When she finally announced she was ready to go he did nod, replacing his hat upon his head, and stood aside to let her pass, her small form several inches shorter then his taller, athletic body. He needed to be in good shape; you couldn't always count on disabling a target in a single blow. "It shouldn't take very long today," he explained as she passed him. "The new Lieutenant is being briefed on the case today, the Sergeant just wants to make sure you're there in case he has any questions."

As they stepped outside, the calls began almost immediately. "Miss Burns, a word for the Gazette!" "What did the Bogeyman say to you?" "It's a top of the line alarm system, guaranteed to end the nightmares once and for all!" The shouts came even as Heller glared back, a silent snarl on his face that promised more than jail time should any of these people actually approach or harm Emile.

He parked in the same place every day, and always made sure to open up the door for her, so that it would be as easy as possible for Emile to follow the stone path and climb into the squad car. "Mind your head," he told her, as he did every day.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

"Sparky? Creative name." She teased gently, patting his arm as she walked, a gentle gesture that spoke her thanks in a non-verbal way. "Maybe when we're down at the station I'll speak with him, it gets too quiet here." Emile made we way with her usual small steps, using her ball of her feet to make sure she wasn't about to fall off a ledge or down the steps. There was a railing along the side of the stairs, but she wouldn't show weakness if she didn't have to.

"New Lieutenant? What happened to Miller?" She asked in a gently voice as her hands reached out for balance for a short second. "Oh, he was moved, I remember now. Down to the south, to be by his wife's family, they own a cattle ranch or something. She was a nice lady, Mrs. Miller, she made me those oatmeal cookies that one time. They were a little over-done, but I think it was the thought that counts." Emile rambled a little, she liked listening to herself speak and she'd admit it to anyone. Dennis had always liked her ramblings, found them cute, said it was a good way to fill empty space with words. Emile didn't like silence.

Emile had been told on many occasions her eyes were both wonderful and horrifying, back when she had sight, they were a bright baby blue, but now with her blindness they were a pale white-blue cataracts. She knew how people cringed when they saw her unfocused eyes, so a deterrent towards the vultures was to look directly at the voices with an emotionless face, let them see what she could not, let them look into her darkness.

Everyday he said the same words, and every day she thanked him softly and ducked her head to get into the back of the squad car, her pale fingers wrapping around the separation and helping herself get in. As the door closed behind her, she listened to the muffled voices, "Do you think he's coming back for you?" "What would you say to him if you could?" "Is the Bogeyman really a woman?" A little sigh passed the woman's lips as the front door opened, letting the voices become sharp and insistent for only a moment. She fiddled with the seat belt before she cinched herself in behind Heller.

"Do you think they'll ever catch him, Officer Heller?" She asked gently, still rolling the ring around her finger. Now usually she didn't ask such questions, they would ride in silence and neither complained. But Emile was blind, not stupid, she could count the days. "If you do, I'd like to speak with him, if that would be allowed. I just... have one question." Musing for a moment, she brought her ring-finger to her lip, tapping it twice. "Maybe two. I don't know what Dennis had done to deserve what happened to him, first off... but... why didn't he kill me too? I mean... he was obviously in the room when I came in. And let's be honest here, I'm easy pickings."

She laughed softly, shaking her locks and closing her eyes. "This world is so fucked up."

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

"That's right," he told her as she mentioned the Lieutenant, partially to continue the conversation and partially to help drown out the filth surrounding her home. Heller would dearly have loved the opportunity to make an example out of a few of them, and every day Joseph came closer to letting him. "It's actually an alpaca ranch, they're basically smaller llamas. He always said that dealing with things that spit at you all the time was still better than dealing with the press," he explained with a slight laugh.

The new lieutenant, a young, active man named Walter Kinsman, had so far exhausted nearly everyone in the precinct by his mere presence. Rumor had it that his high rank was purely the work of a highly-placed uncle, and he was ready to waltz in and solve every cold case on the books as though the cops in charge simply hadn't thought hard enough. The Bogeyman was his latest project, and if you listened to him then the criminal would be in jail by morning. Joseph Heller was not optimistic about the young lieutenant's chances, and rather hoped he would just accept the briefing and let Emile leave. Speaking with him was enough of a chore, he couldn't imagine what being interrogated by the man must be like.

Finally he climbed into the car, shutting out the vultures' insistent sound, and the engine roared into life. Joseph glanced into the back seat to be sure Emile had found her seatbelt before he pulled out, but paused when she asked her question. It was a question that he knew must be coming one day, and yet he still found himself caught off-guard. What in God's name was he supposed to say, especially when he knew the exact answers she so desperately wanted yet could never learn?

He hesitated for only an instant, yet who knew whether or not she had noticed. "Of course we'll get him," he said encouragingly, the words he had to say regardless of what he actually thought. "Sickos like that, they always mess up sooner or later. They think they're untouchable, and that's when they make mistakes." Silence for a few moments, save for the car's engine as they drove deeper into the city. Should he tell her? The lieutenant had leaped all over the theory the moment he'd heard it, and the evidence was hard to ignore. If he questioned her, then Kinsman was going to mention it, and he was going to handle it a lot less delicately then he should.

"There's, uh," he started, clearing his throat. "There's a new theory floating around the station, about why he would have targeted Dennis and left you alone. You're probably going to hear about it today, and I don't want it to catch you by surprise. The first two victims, the brother and sister from out of town, their old house got sold and the new owners found some...uh," he hesitated again, "illegal materials hidden in their basement. And after we found out that the doctor had been poisoning his patients, it...well, some people are starting to see a pattern," he finished, watching her face carefully in the mirror.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile laid her hands out on the cheap leather interior backseat she was currently sat upon, her finger pads brushing over the divots and seams, trying to remember what it would have looked like. She wondered vaguely about the new Lieutenant, about if he knew her predication as well as Miller had, if he would continue to bring her almost daily to the station, and what kind of man he was. It was the things Emile used to guess within making eye-contact with a person, but without such things, she had to rely on her guts and her other senses. And no one really 'smelled like a bad person', it was a silly notion.

She raised her leg to cross over the opposite knee as he paused, she pursed her lips. "Probably trying to think of some bullshit answer, trying to give the poor blind woman some sort of closure." She thought grimly, tightening her grasp on her opposite hand in momentary anger. She exhaled softly though, "No, perhaps he only wishes to give me the same answer as he does the reporters... don't want to give me something I may leak." She rations, and let's her hand go.

"How many has he killed though? Five including Dennis? You'd think he would have screwed up already... or maybe that I would be the one who screwed him up." She sighed again, shifting in the seat as they took a turn, quickly putting a hand out to stop herself from sliding onto her side. The vibrations from the cars engine flowed through her, making her other senses weaker. She had hated cars since her accident, just the smell of gasoline made her uneasy. Emile said a silent prayer she believed no one would hear that Officer Heller was a good driver.

Emile was silent for a long moment, her brow creasing as she thought. "You mean... they believe Dennis was guilty of something?" She gasped softly, turning in her seat to look behind her -- an old habit. "Are your people searching my home right now?! Looking for something that would make-- make my murdered fiance look guilty? Have you been tricking me this whole time?" Emile turned back towards the front of the vehicle. "Bring me home. I'm not letting any of you into my home! I want.. I want a lawyer or something!" Ranted Emile.

When the vehicle didn't stop Emile settled down a fraction, her hands falling onto her lap with a little 'thud'. "...what do you think he did?" She asked in a little voice, her expression only similar to that of a wounded puppy. She blinked unseeingly at her left hand, the engagement ring her husband-to-be spent hours describing to her twisting on her finger.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

What did he think Dennis had done? Joseph Heller knew exactly what Dennis Kohr had done, knew exactly why he had been chosen to die. It was only dumb luck and careful stalking that he knew at all, so good had Dennis been at covering his tracks. But she couldn't know that. Even if the police did somehow find evidence, he refused to let her find out what the man she intended to marry had truly been, no matter what that meant. How long are you going to protect her? Heller whispered.

"No, no," he said hurriedly, sincerity plain in his voice. If he had learned anything well, it was how to fake sincerity. "They're just desperate for any kind of link between the victims, they don't really have anything." He glanced up ahead, scanning the streets in search of a place to stop. The best choice was a small gas station, and after a few more moments the squad car pulled to a stop at one of the pumps.

"We're not at the precinct, we're just parked," he explained to his passenger, looking back with genuine sympathy in his voice. All of this, and yet somehow he was still finding the lies difficult. "There are a few people who believe that Dennis was a criminal, but it's nothing but speculation. There's no evidence, no one is searching your home, no one is accusing him or you of anything. I just didn't want them to spring it on you the moment you walked into the station, and if Lieutenant Kinsman had told you...he wouldn't have let you know that it was just a theory," he finished, watching her sadly.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "Do you want me to bring you home? I can make hem reschedule," he offered. Such an action would result in him getting his chewed out by the notoriously hard-assed Sergeant Davies, but better that than force Emile to try and defend her dead love against (currently) baseless accusations.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile sat up as the car stopped, she straightened and reached for her seat belt, before being informed of the actual situation. She 'oh'ed softly and let her hands rest on the seat again. "I can't think of any way he could be guilty of anything, the firm always did things 'if we don't win, you don't pay'. That doesn't break the law." She chewed her lip for a moment, "He didn't even have any enemies." Emile said this with more emotion in her voice than she did when under interrogation, even though they would never call it such to her face, she knew it really was.

Her ears caught him moving in his seat, shifting to face back at her. "Oh... okay." She fiddled for a moment with her seat belt, suddenly feeling foolish for her outburst, she knew Dennis was a good man-- a great man even! And it was ridiculous to question him now that he was dead. "Thank you Officer Heller, it's good to know that at least some of the police are looking out for my well-being. Isn't it 'serve the people' or some such? Seems silly that I'm being treated like a suspect, rather than a victim, other than you and Morric." She smiled up at him, "It will remain theory, Dennis was a great man."

He made the offer and she sat silently for a moment, fixated on the feel of diamonds under her finger tips. She thought about what her late fiance would say in this situation, thought about how he would act if she were the one murdered. Emile put on a strong face and tilted her head in Heller's direction, "No. That will only bounce back poorly on the both of us." She leaned back into her fake leather seat, closing her eyes for another moment. "Plus, I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

Emile kept her eyes closed, but reached out for the barricade between the driver and backseat, her fingers tapping the plastic rungs. "Thank you, by the way, you've been doing more for me than you should. You're a real friend, officer."

Leaning further into the seats, she began to build up her walls, readying herself to be bombarded with questions.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Joseph twisted slightly in his seat, raising his hand up to the barricade. Did he dare? If you're going to make me sit through this you could at least not be a pussy, Heller snarled, and he forced Joseph's hand forward until his and Emile's hands made contact in the space between the plastic rungs. "I do what I can, Ms. Burns," he answered her quietly. "It's not right, what's happened to you," he continued, the truest words he had spoken all morning. "First those people hovering around you all the time, then the questioning...It shouldn't be happening." He was silent for a moment before he pulled his hand away, turning back around to face the road and start the car once more. "We should be there in a few more minutes."

The station was one of the largest in the city, massive stone lions guarding the front entrance at the top of the large stone steps. People and police moved in and out of it almost constantly, the work of justice, or what sometimes passed for it, never truly ceasing. Of course, bringing Emile up those steps with the reporters hounding her every move would have been difficult at best and a horrifically embarrassing photo op at worst. So Joseph parked in the back lot, as usual, and gently guided Emile into the much more modest back entrance, which did boast a ramp instead of high, unyielding stairs.

They passed through several hallways, the familiar route to the fairly comfortable waiting area just outside the station's holding cells and interrogation rooms. "I'll go check us in," Joseph told her as he guided her towards an empty seat. "Do you need anything, coffee, a sandwich or something?" He waited until she had answered before leaving her, making his way back through the station until he reached front reception.

"Emile Burns is in waiting," he told Angela, the secretary. She nodded and typed up a storm on the computer before her, briefly pausing to jerk a thumb back towards the interior of the station. "Sergeant Davies wants to see you before they get started," she told him, ignoring the rather obvious look of annoyance on his face. Well that was just bloody wonderful.

"Fine," he muttered, pausing briefly in thought. "Is Morric here in the station?"


Emile had been sitting for about ten minutes, no one addressing her beyond the occasional mutters of you know who that is and she's the bogeygirl from the prisoners and suspects witnesses being escorted through the area. Suddenly a strange sound began to echo through the room, the clicking of claws upon the tiled floor, and a cold nose pressed itself into her hands and began sniffing eagerly, something furry and excited nuzzling into her.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile touched his hand for a short moment, unused to feeling skin-to-skin contact anymore. She reveled in it for the moment, before he pulled back, dropping hands to rest on her knees for the rest of the silent trip. She only nodded as he told her their next stop and time frame.

She listened to he familiar streets blur past, car engines, people yelling, horns honking, phones ringing, ahh the sound of downtown. Patiently Emile waited for him to let her out of the vehicle, letting him lead her through the back doors. She nodded at the people that walked past, hearing their footsteps and knowing their stares, hell she would have stared. Emile sat in the same seat she did almost every day, running her nails against the pants she wore as she listened to him, the sweet friction burning at her finger tips. "I'm fine for now, thank you." Emile said sweetly, fiddling with her pants still.

His footsteps echoed away and Emile was left alone in the hallway, nervously the woman began to run her fingers through her growing hair. Would this new Lieutenant know who she was? Would he be one of the ones who believed she killed Dennis and staged it? There were so many theories and beliefs it was hard to suppress them so often. The scene would run through her mind, Emile tried to picture what he would have looked like, what they described both the man she'd loved but never seen and the horrible things done to him. How could any believe a blind woman could do such a vile thing to a person? How would she know where to cut? Bile rose in her throat as she pictured the faces of all the people who thought she was guilty.

But her thoughts were quickly cut off by the shock of something cold and wet pressing to her hand, causing her to be pulled back into reality and all it's buzzing. Emile could hear the dog's breathing and feel it over her fingers. A grin lit onto her face, "Hello Sparky." She cooed, her hands moving to dig into the thick fur of the animal. "Morric, are you there?" She asked, tilting her head up.

"Yeah, right here. A little birdie told me you were thinking of getting yourself a working dog." She could hear his laugh, and his voice tickling the long brush of his mustache.

A soft laugh lit from her, "Yes. I've found I'm tripping more often now that I don't have... have something to direct me." She quickly caught herself, keeping her face from falling. "I believe it may be a good investment, Dennis would have wanted me to be able to function on my own." Her fingers moved through the fur, Sparky licked her wrist as he sat down next to her chair, allowing her to rub his head and neck.

"I could help you find one, if you wanted, I know a few people," Morric informed, his hand coming to rest on top of her's, atop the dog's head. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Oh, I think they ought to be coming to get you soon, remind Heller to come get me before you leave. I've cleared it with my people to let you use Sparky for a bit, til you find a replacement."

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

"Get the hell in here," Davies snarled a scant instant after Joseph knocked upon his office door. Joseph sighed slightly, giving himself a moment to take a deep breath before he finally opened the door and stepped into the sergeant's office, standing straight at attention.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Davies glared at him, he was virtually incapable of looking at people without glaring at them, but there was almost some sympathy in that glare as the young man in the office turned to look at Joseph, a wide smile that he probably thought was charming plastered on his face. "Officer Heller!" he exclaimed. "So good to see you again. Now why didn't you tell me you were the one responsible for keeping our little Bogeygirl in line?" Lieutenant Kinsman was barely out of his twenties, and was not only absolutely convinced that he was the smartest person in the world but felt it was his God-given duty to be sure everyone else knew that too. To say that he was an irritation to the rest of the police force, and everyone else he came into contact with, was an understatement.

"I have been assigned to be Ms. Burns' primary contact within the police force, yes," Heller answered in a tightly controlled voice. How wonderful it would be to show Kinsman just how little he actually knew. But he couldn't do that, couldn't strike so close to home. It made things far more complicated then he liked them to be. "Yes, she is the only known witness to the Bogeyman, but so far investigations have revealed no further connections between her and the man himself," he added, even Heller feeling a strange need to defend the woman against the accusations of the ignorant. No artist liked to see credit for his work go to someone else.

"Yes, yes," Kinsman answered, waving a hand dismissively. "Never did think much of that theory, you can't expect a blind person to be able to handle anything like that when they can barely function as it is. But we have" he said with a sudden grin, "learned a few very interesting things about the other victims. You've heard the theory, I assume?"

"I'm familiar."

"Splendid. Have her brought into one of the interrogation rooms, and in the meantime I want you to go back to her house and start poking around dear old Dennis' effects. Davies has got the warrants all ready, don't you Davies?" He briefly glanced back at the sergeant, apparently not noticing or choosing to ignore the baleful stare that was returned. "Wonderful!" Kinsman exclaimed, brushing past Heller and out of the office, making a beeline for the waiting room.

Davies was silent for a moment before he tossed a folder towards Joseph. "He's an asshole," he growled, "but he's not wrong. What they found in that house was enough to Kinsman to convince a judge that Dennis was guilty of something, or the Bogeyman wouldn't have gone for him. Probably bullshit like ever other damn theory we've had. Check it out anyway."


Sparky quite enjoyed the attention he was receiving, and Morric was kind enough to convince the other officers that there was no harm in letting him join Emile in the interrogation room; she'd been there dozens of times, and most of the cops knew that there was no more harm in her than there was in any grieving family member. Most of them. And so the two of them were brought into a room and left to wait, Sparky's head lying upon Emile's lap, until the door finally opened and the new Lieutenant entered. "Ms. Burns," he said in a voice filled with something akin to anticipation. "I am Lieutenant Kinsman. Why don't you go ahead and tell me your story in your own words?"

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile never did like to be lead, she felt like the people she couldn't see stood behind glass windows, pointing and laughing at the poor blind woman who was incapable of being a functioning member of society. But today she allowed it, an officer's hand was laid on her shoulder, her fingers wrapped around Spark's leash. Her footsteps began to echo more and more, the further down the hall she continued. The turned her to the left, and she was lead to a metal chair, the door swung shut behind her with a click.

She only sighed as she pet the dog's head gently. Finally, after what left like an eternity, the door swung open again. Emile felt Sparky's head move to look at the intruder, then fall to her lap, his cold nose pressing against her equally chilly hands. For a moment Emily only listened to the male walk-- she knew it was male from the sound of his footsteps, far too heavy to be a woman, unless she was a large woman, in which case, Emile apologized mentally. His voice filled her ears and she tilted her head in his direction, "Hello Lieutenant Kinsman." She spoke politely, stroking the dog's nose with a little hand.

His words struck her as odd. Emile automatically felt a strong dislike for the man, his tone spoke as if she were a guilty member, not an affected one. "My 'story'? That's a crude way to put it, but fine." She cleared her throat a little, shifting in the uncomfortable metal seat they provided. "It was exactly a month ago, Saturday night. It was one of those weird weekends where Dennis' office was closed. But Dennis told me he forgot to send of something the day before that was extremely important, so before heading to the dinner he had planned, we decided to jump up there very quickly. It was... really cold, so I asked if I could come inside instead of waiting in the car, and he told me that would be fine. We walked into the building-- he was holding my hand, the halls are all marble and it screws up my hearing-- and went to the elevator." Emile was controlled for the moment, not yet bursting into tears and sniffling.

"When we got to his floor we were sitting in his neighbors office, talking while he tried to find the fax numbers he needed. He was telling me he might be able to afford getting my eyes fixed, but... but then he found the fax numbers." She hesitated for a moment, "He left the room, and I was listening for him. But I heard something like.. like a shuffle? But in the other room, it was muffled. I went to go and help, if I could, and when I came into his office something was wrong. All I could smell was... well now I know it was blood, but it smelled metallic." She wrung her fingers together, closing her eyes tightly. Sparky whined on her lap. "I called out for him, but no-one answered. I thought maybe he was playing a trick on me, because I could hear someone-- something breathing in the room. B-but I slipped... in h-his bl-blood." Emile hiccuped a little, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. She brought her hands up and began to rub away the salty moisture. "Bu-but someone caught me... and w-when I realized i-it couldn't be h-him I b-backed away. Th-then I listened to someone move around in th-the room... and then all I could hear was the woman on the other side of the 9-1-1 call. An-and he was g-gone..."

Emile covered her face for a moment, only once had she been asked to repeat what had happened, thankfully with new technology the cops had a tape they could watch. But this cop... he wasn't going to settle for that. "W-while I waited f-for the police I tr-tried to find Dennis... wi-with my hands... and I fou-found a part of h-him... and I j-just hugged it and cr-cried. Then the police showed up and to-took him away.. and they brought me here, where they as-asked me to re-repeat wha-what had happened..." The young woman was crying by this point, there was no need in hiding it, she was not proud of her grief, but she had no reason to hide it. An unattractive hiccup rocked her body as she clung to Sparky, who licked the lips of her fingers.

"M-may I have a t-tissue?" She whispered, after using her sleeve to wipe her eyes yet another time. Kinsman moved, or so she heard, and returned with a tissue, placing it into one of her outstretched hands. She muttered a half-silent thanks and began to dab at her eyes, snuffling indignantly.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Joseph Heller slowly emerged from the hallway, staring down at the folder in his hand. An official warrant to search the home of Dennis Kohr and Emile Burns for any evidence of crimes that might have occurred. If he actually went and Emile find out, it would shatter the trust that he'd built up with her, especially after what he'd told her in the car less than an hour ago. It would destroy any chance he had of actually making amends for what Heller had done. What we did, not what I did. And what he should do now was go back to Davies and refuse to follow the order.

But what then? Someone else would take the warrant and go search the house, regardless of what Joseph said. And if there was something there to find, than it would only be a matter of time before it was discovered and Emile found out. Nor could he just go out there and simply do nothing, for the same reasons. He was being sent alone now, but sooner or later others would go out there. This looked like it would be the only chance he had to find any evidence and deal with it before Dennis Kohr's sins came to light.

Finally he returned to reception, speaking quietly with Angela. "Could you do me a favor and call me as soon as Ms. Burns gets out of questioning? Tell her Davies has me out running a lead, and I'll be back to pick her up as soon as I can."

Angela glanced briefly back towards the sergeant's office, finally nodding. "Sure thing, hon. And Morric wanted to talk to you before you left with Burns. He's getting together some of Sparky's food and stuff for her to take home."

"Thanks, Angela. With luck, I won't be gone long."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A real tragedy, Ms. Burns," Kinsman said as he handed her a tissue, but his voice sounded anything but sympathetic. Instead it sounded dismissive, almost bored; the witness, the suspect wasn't telling him anything he hadn't already heard a dozen times. The only reason he'd asked the question was because it had to be asked, even the offered tissue and murmured sympathies were merely the niceties that needed to be observed.

Thankfully there was also no real need for him to delve any deeper into the events of that night. Emile had already been questioned endlessly about that night, every detail she could remember already on the record. So instead Kinsman moved on to the new information, the interesting part, and he spoke with real interest in his voice for the first time. "Why don't you tell me more about Dennis. His work, his hobbies, any unusual habits he might have had."

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile rubbed the un-painted bottom portion of her eye. No longer could she wear make-up, hell she couldn't get it off if she wanted to, not without Dennis. He knew all of her little quirks, her fear of eyes, and how sensitive she was to make-up remover. She was almost thankful that her blindness refrained her from 'prettying up'. Not that she needed it, Emile was a surprisingly natural beauty, a ginger by all regards. She clenched the tissue in her little hands and let it rest on Sparky's neck, who was intently peering up at Kinsman.

Being blind made Emile very adept at telling people's tones. And Kinsman was not impressed, nor moved by her story. She grit her teeth, how could any man sit there and openly mock her pain? Had Emile been a half dozen years younger, she would have attacked the man. "Any murder is a tragedy." She retorted quietly, swallowing down the angry lump forming in her throat.

She quirked a thin brow up at the male across from her, pursing her lips. Emile opened her eyes and tried to focus her gaze towards Kinsman, eerie eyes unfocused, but on target. "Tell you more about him..?" Emile thought back to the conversation in the car, and her face hardened. "Ah. Well, he was hard working. He never missed a meeting or refused a case, no matter how hopeless. He would be up for hours working on his computer after 'putting me to bed', I could always hear the tapping of the keys. He did good work though, did a lot for people who were disabled," She tried not to sneer at the word, she hated being called that. More than she hated being called 'handicapped', she even refused to accept the pass that would have allowed them to get a better spot at shopping malls. "Most recently he'd been working with a woman who had been wrongly diagnosed, and had surgery performed on her, and caused her to lose her hearing. Her son was helping her fight the case, a little guy, maybe... hm.. your age?

"But other than work he really didn't have any hobbies. He liked to go to those fancy dinners, he'd get me all dressed up and we'd go to these charities with his work. He told me about the one time he tried to build a model plane as a child, but he never continued it." Emile sat back into the chair, her shoulders relaxing as she talked about her late fiance. She missed him dearly, and speaking of him in his finest moments was one of her most calming exercises. "Remember the man, not the sin," her mother had told her years ago, after watching a special on TV about serial killers.

"Dennis loved to work with children, he hoped someday we could start a family. He always told me he pictured himself with a son and a daughter, and a beautiful wife. Now all he needed was the children." She laughed softly, shaking her head, "We were going to adopt a puppy in the spring, to start out our little family." Emile stroked Sparky's nose.

She peered up towards Kinsman, fixing her eyes in his direction. "Why do you want to know all this?" She knew the answer, but had to ask.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Without any stops, it was a fairly short drive back to Emile's house. Heller stepped out of his own car, a simple sedan that wouldn't attract as much attention as a squad car; Joseph still insisted that the news of this not get back to the girl. His "brother" was starting to develop a rather annoying attachment to Kohr's little bitch; this business of making amends should have been dealt with weeks ago. The longer they stayed here, the greater the chance that someone would actually find something connecting Heller to the dead, and that would mean he'd have to start running. He'd managed to avoid becoming a fugitive so far, and he didn't intend to start now. Sadly, Joseph whined loud enough that these things needed to be dealt with if only to shut him up.

Kohr's house key was currently sitting in evidence, which meant it had been child's play for Heller to obtain a copy. After briefly looking around to be sure there wasn't anyone watching him, he calmly let himself into Emile's house and started poking around, being careful to replace everything in as close to its original place as he could. Doing it like that was doubly important when dealing with a blind homeowner; if anything she used wasn't exactly where she left it, she'd notice immediately when she couldn't find it. After a brief search of the living room, which produced little beyond a stack of magazines that had probably never been read, he headed upstairs towards the bedrooms. He would need to search there anyway, but his mind was already wondering where you hid something from a blind woman. On the one hand you didn't need to hide it at all, since she couldn't see it anyway. But it also needed to be somewhere that a sighted visitor wouldn't discover.

Finally he discovered what must have been the room Kohr had used, and once more began looking around the drawers and closets. Joseph hoped there was nothing to find, yet Heller was rather curious to see what he might discover. His art lacked so much perspective if one didn't have a complete understanding of the sins of the subject.

--------------------------------

Emile could hear Kinsman pull something out of a pocket, the faint scratching of pencil on paper carefully mimicking her words as she spoke. Occasionally he would make an encouraging noise, just enough to let her know that she was being actively listened to. Obviously the lieutenant found something interesting in her words, even if all she did was paint the picture of a kind man. "Just trying to make sure I understand everything about the case," he answered her calmly; had Emile not already known it was a lie she might not have been able to tell from his words.

"But I am particularly curious about his various activities. After all, a woman such as yourself would hardly be able to keep track of everything he did, or everywhere he went. I'd be very interested to learn what he told you he was doing when he wasn't working, or what you think he might have been doing." There was a pause for a few moments before he continued. "Or, for that matter, what he was doing at home. You say he was always on the computer? It wouldn't happen to be equipped with any sort of disabled-people software, would it? If not, he could be doing absolutely anything on that computer and you wouldn't know the first thing about it."

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile stopped to listen to the man. It was obviously a pencil and paper he had retrieved, and she was half lead to believe he was doing a sketch rather than writing anything important down. She narrowed her eyes as if she could glare at him, her lips thin in distaste. What isn't there to understand? A man waited for Dennis and killed him, he was a target. And if you need a blind woman to tell you such, you must be lacking a little yourself. She really wished she could say that to him, the raging thought pulsing against the front of her head like a migraine. "I understand," she managed to push out through gritted teeth, said teeth clamping down hard on the side of her cheek.

"I trusted him, with someone who is 'disabled' such as myself, you have to trust those who take care of you, if I feared every man who helped me cross the street was going to push me before a bus, my life would be spent inside my house." Emile leaned back as she spoke, taking her frustration out by rubbing Sparky's silken ears, running them through her fingers gently with a little sigh, she relaxed some. "I have not checked my email in nearly 6 years, Lieutenant, I've no use for a computer. So yes, he could be hiding things on it, but what did he have to hide? He was a good man who worked hard."

Crossing her arms she let the ears slip from her fingers. "When he wasn't at work, he was with me, or with his co-workers. You can ask his secretary, his boss and his co-workers. To be perfectly honest, he didn't really have much of a life outside me and work. But yes, you are correct about the computer, he could be doing whatever. Perhaps watching porn while I lay in the next room, who knows. But I trust him not to have done anything illegal like you are suggesting." Emile clenched her fingers against her biceps, huffing out a hard breath. She was fuming, how dare this man who didn't know Dennis try to slur his name in front of her. He was lucky he had a badge, or she may have tried to slug him.

------------------------------

Dennis Kohr was a neat man, some would even claim OCD. This most showed in his home office, or study, or the room that would not be touched by Emile. It was actually a converted spare bed room (though the couple had thought about making it a nursery if Emile got pregnant). There was a large mahogany desk in the center, against the wall with the window. There were cups for pens, pencils and other writing utensils, a stack of signed papers next to a thick black laptop and a CD shelf filled with CDs.

In the closet there were piles of boxes, all labeled insignificant things like "Case 23x" and such. Though, were some to dig deeper, they'd realize the bottom boxes were not all that they seemed. Within files, within cases, within boxes sat pictures and CDs that were most defiantly illegal. If one were to refurbish Dennis's computer, they would find similar things to mark his guilt.

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

"But you do not know. You can't know, not really," Kinsman said with an unseen smile, his pencil still scratching away. "I am however interested in what you suspect. No one is perfect, and we have reason to believe that Mr. Kohr was decidedly less than perfect. Naturally I cannot reveal to you what information we have, as it might inadvertently compromise parts of our investigation." He also didn't intend to share the fact that there was no information yet, merely speculation upon a pattern that might not even exist. "I know this must be hard for you," he continued, his voice continuing to show an absolute lack of sympathy, "but it would be very helpful if you were to help us focus our efforts in the search for the remaining pieces of evidence. Any suspicions you may have held about his activities, things he refused to tell you, chance comments that struck you as odd. Perhaps a certain place or certain items that you were forbidden from interacting with."

The writing paused for a moment, Kinsman focusing intently upon the blind woman and any unconscious clues she might give away. "Of course, you could keep insisting that David was a saint and that there couldn't possibly be anything to find. Unfortunately, I'm afraid we would then have to make it our job to be sure there was nothing to find in his or your past. We must look into every possibility after all, even the possibility that we cannot find evidence of his crimes because you are somehow covering them up. I can't imagine what the press would think." Sometimes even the unspoken threat was enough for the witness to crack, to start spilling every detail they could think of in an desperate attempt to not be seen as covering something up. Kinsman didn't think this woman would break so easily, but sometimes you were pleasantly surprised.

------------------------------------------------

Joseph sighed slightly as he eventually made his way into the small office, discovered the seemingly endless boxes stuffed into the closet. It would take hours to go through all of those boxes in search of evidence, assuming that there was even evidence there to find. Kohr had enjoyed taking photos during his indulgences, but unless the man was stupid enough to leave them lying around somewhere it would take quite a while to actually find them. For the moment he pulled on a pair of leather gloves, a pair that Emile would have found disquietingly familiar, flipped open the small laptop and turned it on, starting to rummage through the desk and papers on it for anything that might be a password as the computer booted. Thankfully the man's nearly obsessive neatness meant it wasn't that hard to find; a small Rolodex with phone numbers and addresses also had a small list of passwords and their related sites. Kohr had been security-conscious enough to choose long, complicated passwords, but apparently not conscious enough to actually memorize them.

The second password worked, and soon Joseph was browsing through the laptop's files. The neatness had continued here, and the Documents folder had been divided into dozens of subfolders, each with their own subfolders that separated every possible document from what must have been every case he worked on. It would take too long to actually go through them all, so he brought up a search bar and, after a few moments thought, began a search for every type of image file.

Hundreds of results were returned, most of them scans of documents and photographs to be submitted into evidence. Page after page of thumbnails were quickly browsed through, and nothing. Joseph returned to the search bar, activating the options to search through hidden and system folders, and looked again.

Unfortunately, this search bore fruit. And as the images began to play across the screen, Joseph Heller sighed deeply. There were huge amounts of paper documents and CD-Rs, and any one of them could be copies of what he was finding now. How the fuck was he supposed to hide all of this?

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

Emile twitched, to someone who didn't know her, it would look like a flinch. But no, her hand twitched against Sparky's muzzle before she fought for control over her emotions. Today was a roller-coaster ride, that was for damn sure. She further resisted the urge to bark in laughter and tell him he was a fucking liar, but that would look bad, and make her look damn guilty, so Emile kept her lips sealed. "Do you? Do you really?" Emile pressed, finally snapping just a little, "Do you really know how hard it is to lead a sightless life and then have the only person that was able to walk you through it die? And then everyone think that either I killed him or that he was some crazy person? I'm very sorry Mister Kinsman, but you do not know anything about this subject."

Setting her face straight, the woman calmed herself with a few breaths, flicking bangs from her eyes out of habit. "There was no place I was forbidden to go to within my own house, nor any items. I chose never to enter his office because it smelled dusty and like old paper and made my nose itch. He never did or said anything odd, other than try to marry the blind girl, I guess." She retorted, her voice verging on sarcastic and mean.

"His name is... was... Dennis. If you are to lead this investigation, you should at least know your victims." She spat angrily, nearly getting up from her seat at the pure disrespect. "But feel free to check my record, you'll find that when I was twenty-one I was arrested for possession and that is the only mar on my record. Go ahead. Check. I'll even wait here while you do. Dennis' record is also clean. Please 'Lieutenant', be my guest." To say she was being hostile was a little of an understatement, and even Sparky was reacting. He rose from his seating position when her temper started to flare and lifted his head from her lap, peering up at Kinsman.

Emile offered Kinsman the most civil smile she could as she patted the dog's head, trying to get him and herself to calm down. Snapping at the lead police officer in charge of her investigation was probably the worst thing she could have done. But somewhere deep inside the cockles of her heart, she was happy she did. She knew this Kinsman thought little of her, and her dead fiance, and she knew he was belittling her openly, and just the thought of putting him into his place almost excited Emile.

//Yuck, short. Sorry! //

RE: The Killer and The Victim (I_Am_Nobody x CyanideDisaster)

((No worries.))

"I already have," Kinsman replied in a calm voice, and a folder could be heard dropping onto the table. The folder was opened, the papers inside being shuffled. "The possession was a nasty little incident certainly, but could perhaps be set aside as a youthful indiscretion. Perhaps. Of course," the papers shuffled. "What with the press, the constant questioning, the horror of what you experienced, it's hardly a stretch of the imagination to think that the drug habit might be revisited. We wouldn't want anything to happen to our best lead on the Bogeyman." He fell silent for a few moments, and could be heard moving slightly in his chair. She could not see the thoughtful expression upon his face as he watched her reaction to this latest, baseless accusation.

"As for Dennis' record," he finally continued, "he is certainly free of convictions or arrests. His personal record is clean. However, he is not free of implications or accusations." Another folder was dropped onto the table. "Let me be frank, Ms. Burns. We have reason to believe that Dennis Kohr was killed because the Bogeyman discovered that he was guilty of some currently unknown crime. He did not finish you off, because you were not. This was more than enough justification for me to dig deeper into Kohr's past, and I discovered several interesting things.

"One of the most interesting things I discovered was a rather remarkable coincidence. Did you know that your Mr. Kohr was marked as a witness in no less than three child abduction cases? None of those cases ever gained a conviction, his testimony always agreed with other witnesses, so there was never a need for him to testify or appear on the court record. Still, to bear witness to three such events...Interesting, isn't it?"

Even this was just speculation on Kinsman's part. A strange coincidence yes, but it was nowhere near enough to be actionable in any way. Did Emile know that? Whether she did or didn't, he wasn't done pushing her yet. Emile Burns had been coddled so far, treated with kid gloves because she was the only witness. As far as he was concerned, that ended today. He would get results, he would find the Bogeyman, and if that involved destroying this woman's life then he would.

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The Bogeyman was much more concerned with how to spare Emile from the discovery of her fiance's horrific actions. He couldn't just take the computer and claim he'd discovered a robbery; that gave the police an excuse to crawl all over the place and take everything. But f he simply claimed to have found nothing, it was unlikely that he'd ever get the chance to come back and make sure he'd gotten rid of everything unless he broke in himself. What he needed was a plausible reason to keep coming back and spend hours at a time in the house, without anyone else interfering. Or just destroy everything and call it a day.

That option was becoming rather attractive, unfortunately. But not yet, not until there was no other choice. Joseph's fingers began flying over the laptop's keys. At the very least he could get rid of the images here, scrub the drive. It was a start.