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 Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2016 3:12 pm
Jeremiah had heard about them at the department the night he showed up with Zac in tow. Not that it had gone anywhere, there was too much to do then.
The next day and the one after that as well.
By the time he pulled himself from his house - from his bed, from talking with Algie and defining their relationship - he realized he might have lost his chance. There had been a comment from Algie that he was not going anywhere, some lingering worry that the other would end up wandering into other ashdown by accident (or worse), but with a shoulder punch and firm word, the detective left.
Not that he was doing any better. He had not told Algie what he was thinking about doing. Dressed warmer than the weather needed, he walked into the department. His hand was raised in greeting, a slight node. Not out of place. He never was one for words.
"Hey, Roberts," one of the beat cops, "those fliers. The one the Chief had you and the others gather up. You get them all?" It was not that odd of a question. Sometimes Jeremiah could be a stickler for details (even if he never really got along properly with Edwards and now he was running for mayor).
"Yeah, we have to canvas the streets for four days, Detective. It was a mess. Whoever that street artist is, I seriously want to -"
"Roberts."
"Sorry, Detective Lieutenant."
"Don't worry about it. Where are they?" Still not a strange question.
"Ah, down in the basement? They're going to be shredded and then incinerated with the paper trash like usual. Wait, was that not what I was supposed to make sure happened?" Roberts had a worried look on his face, expression falling.
"No, that's exactly what you were supposed to do. Good job on getting it all taken care of." With a short nod of his head, a clap on the shoulder to Roberts, he moved past the officer to head to the basement. Not his favorite part of the department, if only because of the dark corners that it held. A residual fear from when he was younger that he had never quite been able to shake. It did not matter that that was where they had most of their files stored (the ones that had not been converted to digital) or that he had been down there countless numbers of times.
He still did not like it.
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Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2016 3:16 pm
By the time he was pulling the door open to where they were likely being shredded, he heard the sound of the industrial shredder and his heart sunk. Bugger. There was an old cop, one who should have been retired, but instead handled the clerical stuff that no one wanted to. Not that Jeremiah could begrudge the old man, he understood the need to not be idle.
"What do you want, Mercer?" his tone was gruff, harder than Jeremiah's. He knew that Jeremiah never came down to the basement if he could avoid it. It was one of the things that he had noticed about the British man - how any of the others missed it, he had no idea.
"Ah, Grady," Jeremiah shifted, standing properly. The older cop had something about him that reminded him of his father. That was always a bad thing. "Those fliers. Did you get them shredded yet?"
"You mean these?" A handful of them was pushed into the shredder. "Just finishing up." There was only a stack of them left, some of them stuck together because of the rain.
Jeremiah's face was unreadable but he could not stop himself from stepping forward to catch him before he shredded the last batch. "I need to take some of those."
"Why?" Suspicion.
"It's for a case." Jeremiah was not going to give on this but those old eyes were watching him hard. A measuring gaze.
"Those missing kids?" Grady lowered the stack, not towards the shredder, but just down. "You think it's connected? With all those rumors and performance art ... Don't know what Edwards is trying to pull with that one."
When Jeremiah did not say anything else, Grady just rolled his eyes and shoved his hand forward with the sizeable stack of flyers. "I don't know how these would be some part of a case, but you've got a good gut and eye for these things. I won't even tell Edwards that you've got them. How about that?"
"Thanks, Grady." The silver-haired detective sounded relieved, his posture relaxing some. He took the fliers in hand and then pulled his coat a little tighter around himself. The chill in the basement and the chill to his back had no rights to be working in cahoots.
"Might want to see if you're coming down with a cold with how you're bundled up. It's warm in here," he muttered. "Get out of here. I hate not knowing things and you're clearly not talking." A pause. "You owe me a bottle of that scotch. That expensive s**t. Got me?"
"I'll bring you a bottle later." Jeremiah snorted. The amount of alcohol he was handing out lately was getting ridiculous. "... and maybe if this ever makes any actual sense, I'll tell you the entire story." It never would but Grady did not have to know that.
With an annoyed hand wave to get out of his space, Jeremiah turned to leave and head back up. Out of the basement and it's dark corners.
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Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2016 3:28 pm
The fliers were stuffed into a leather case folder that Jeremiah had for important case documents he did not want to get damaged or be mishandled. The red of the leather was a glaring warning to anyone that if they touched, they would bring his ire down upon them.
People knew better than to poke into his cases when they had no authority to do so.
Not that they knew what case this was for.
The folder was laid on his desk, to be ignored for the rest of the work day (easy, light workload, because of rules after being missing), and he only spared it a few glances during the day.
Which was impressive considering how much it weighed heavily on his mind. The idea had formed the moment he had heard about the fliers, the way they had showed up in the town after the fog had cleared along with strange graffiti.
His experience in other ashdown told him that there was something about books, documents, that could lead to seeing things. He thought perhaps it was about intent, about wanting to see something, because he had - when Zac had been sleeping - opened a book just because and nothing had happened.
Still ...
With a stack of them and the words IT WALKS emblazoned across them ...
Jeremiah could not help but think about the IT that Sunny seemed afraid of. He thought about the fear he had felt, the look on her face as she had started to run from whatever it was that had scared her in the vision.
This could go somewhere. Lead to something.
Or nothing.
To find out he would have to go back to other ashdown.
The thought made his back ache, the chill a little stronger, but if he wanted answers ... That's likely where he would find them.
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