Fic: Legendary part 9
part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here, part 6 here, part 7 here, part 8 here
I sat in front of my computer, my dog in my lap. I scratched him lazily behind the ears as I scrolled through the pages on the screen. It had been a few days since I had killed Tommy Volker, and I felt the need to see where the “investigation” had gone. I knew there would be nothing, but I still liked to see.
I had a backdoor into the CBI website, a backdoor into what was supposed to be a secure, impenetrable website. I looked over case notes and personal logs, privet notes that people kept for their own wonderings. And then I saw something I thought I never would. There was a picture of me and my dog. I had gotten careless, I had let my guard down.
I looked down at the dog in my lap. I had enjoyed him. He had been very good to me. But now he was a liability. And that would not do.
The past month had been rather uneventful. Red John hadn't killed anyone, at least, no one that we knew about, and the flow of regular cases had continued and Red John had gotten pushed to the back burner like he always did.
We had just closed a case and I had stopped by the coffee cart outside to grab a cup of coffee that wouldn't eat a hole in my stomach when the security guard pointed towards me and a messenger walked to me, holding a rather large box.
“Delivery for Teresa Lisbon,” he said, holding out a clip board for me to sign.
“Stay here.” I said, taking the box after I signed. I didn't get packages very often and the cases that I worked made me very weary of anything coming that I wasn't expecting. I walked to a small table next to the cart where people often stirred their coffee and use the tip of a key to cut open the tape. The smell hit me first.
Cautiously, I nudged open the flap and gasped at what I saw inside. A small ball of black hair, slick with what must have been blood. A dog. There was a piece of paper stuck to the top of what had been at one time a lovely animal. The only thing on it was a red mark that I knew all too well.
Red John.
The one thing that we had on him was now sitting in front on me. I felt the world crashing around me. We had lost again.
I sat in front of my computer, my dog in my lap. I scratched him lazily behind the ears as I scrolled through the pages on the screen. It had been a few days since I had killed Tommy Volker, and I felt the need to see where the “investigation” had gone. I knew there would be nothing, but I still liked to see.
I had a backdoor into the CBI website, a backdoor into what was supposed to be a secure, impenetrable website. I looked over case notes and personal logs, privet notes that people kept for their own wonderings. And then I saw something I thought I never would. There was a picture of me and my dog. I had gotten careless, I had let my guard down.
I looked down at the dog in my lap. I had enjoyed him. He had been very good to me. But now he was a liability. And that would not do.
The past month had been rather uneventful. Red John hadn't killed anyone, at least, no one that we knew about, and the flow of regular cases had continued and Red John had gotten pushed to the back burner like he always did.
We had just closed a case and I had stopped by the coffee cart outside to grab a cup of coffee that wouldn't eat a hole in my stomach when the security guard pointed towards me and a messenger walked to me, holding a rather large box.
“Delivery for Teresa Lisbon,” he said, holding out a clip board for me to sign.
“Stay here.” I said, taking the box after I signed. I didn't get packages very often and the cases that I worked made me very weary of anything coming that I wasn't expecting. I walked to a small table next to the cart where people often stirred their coffee and use the tip of a key to cut open the tape. The smell hit me first.
Cautiously, I nudged open the flap and gasped at what I saw inside. A small ball of black hair, slick with what must have been blood. A dog. There was a piece of paper stuck to the top of what had been at one time a lovely animal. The only thing on it was a red mark that I knew all too well.
Red John.
The one thing that we had on him was now sitting in front on me. I felt the world crashing around me. We had lost again.