[b][color=00a651]Terrence Archeletta[/color][/b]
 
"Fuckin' bullshit." Terrence Archeletta, Terry to his small circle of friends, groaned as he slumped back in his worn office chair with calloused fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as he pushed the report aside. Victim number nine. [i]Nine[/i]. That was on top of the seven missing campers, of which they had found precisely dick aside from one pair of bloody jeans. That was un-fucking-acceptable to a man like Terry, especially with the crowd he was charged with looking over. Which was why the whole situation was driving him up a wall; The murder was out of his jurisdiction, and without anything substantial to go with on the campers he would have to comb the woods for weeks, and even then he would be lucky if anything at all was found. 

"So we are at square one on this little shitshow. Any news on where the Red Caps might be hidin'?" The detective asked of the lone officer in the office with him, lighting a Marlboro Black in blatant disregard of the 'No Smoking' sign hanging on the wall across from his office. Willard Douglas was new to the station, and a Mundy at that; Tall, lanky, redheaded and reminding most that saw him of a scarecrow when he stood at a distance, it would have been hard to buy him as a cop when he wasn't in uniform. Despite his mundane heritage, he was fully aware of Erewhon's peculiarities and was always the first to volunteer to help out his fellow man whatever the race. The deputy was scratching at the back of his head right then, looking just a little abashed at the situation himself.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Archeletta. They're doing like they were told far as I can tell. They haven't moved from the ranch and there's only been a few missing dogs and cats." Terry frowned hearing that. He never cared much for Fae, especially those Red Cap savages quartered off in their little ranch to the North where they did God knows what, mostly involving whichever of the town's family pets that were left unprotected that they could catch. In the past they hadn't been shy about taking the occasional child too, but ever since the town had rioted and killed nearly three quarters of those little monsters in response to a Witch boy turning up with a Red Cap knife in his belly, they'd been content to keep to less sapient prey. They were of course the first suspects in any new murder in this town, but to the Witch's disappointment he'd yet to have an excuse to arrest the lot of them for those crimes. It looked like this time wouldn't be any different.

"Well, we better get a cruiser down there anyway just in case. Sharpes and Deych only I think. Sheriff should be amenable to that." He said, taking a long, frustrated drag on his smoke, exhaling a pungent cloud as he swung his feet up onto the table. He wasn't sure if the Sheriff was in the know about the supernatural, but the man had always been happy to listen to his chief of detectives, and didn't blanch at the odder doings in town. He didn't expect much from the search at the farm, but best to eliminate all possibilities. He sighed, looking out the window of his office out toward the forest.

This was going to be the start of a long week.