A collab with [@Leidenschaft] & [@WittyReference]
[indent][hr][/indent]

"Cut the shit Chase, you know why we're here." Clint's tone was biting but steady. Deputy Sheriff Chase Hillock, mountain of a man. Played center back when the school was worth the bricks. Joined the force about the time McClintock was on his way out, a young man's game.

"I'm sorry sir, that's Deputy Hillock if you please. " The deputy's tone dripped with the same apple pie and bless your heart, saccharine venom just beneath the crust. "This is a crime scene as you seem to be aware, sir," the large lawman's kind eyes bore fuck you into Clint's own, "and while we appreciate the state troopers interest in this matter, we have it well under control." A smile simmered on his lips as his mass leaned against the dark vehicle defiantly.

Clint turned to Pari, his eyes as narrow and bleak as the road ahead. "Show him the damn badge."

His eyes were intense - an intensity that communicated a lot to her about him. For a start, how seriously he was taking this case, as he should be. This was his town. These were his people. The thought of whether this would be a help or a hindrance to the investigation did cross her mind briefly. 

Deputy Hillock may have been a big man, but Pari was not intimidated, men like this were a dime a dozen in law enforcement. He was not the first and he would not be the last that she would bypass to reach a crime scene. Before Clint could even ask, the badge was in her hand - folded in it's wallet, she leaned across Clint, her own deep mahogany eyes fixated on the Deputy with a smile that harboured a slight arrogance. “Parinaaz Bhatt, homicide investigator for the FBI. We aren't here to step on your toes Deputy, I certainly wouldn't dream of it,” she pulled the badge back and nodded at Clint, “but we've been asked to attend this scene. I'd appreciate to not have to call any of my superiors and make a show of this... You will not even notice us.” 

Clint interjected as Bhatt's nimble fingers flipped her identification closed with practiced grace. “You're a prick, Hillock but you're a damn fine deputy. You know how well I trust suits but if it takes a monster to catch a monster we need to give them all the help we can. This goes above Hayes so you need to keep that fat mouth shut.”

Hillock stared a while at the young woman's credentials. He'd never seen an FBI agent but she hardly fit his mental image. Maybe that was the point. He scoffed. He was a damn fine deputy and it was high time the old bastard admitted it. It was a hollow victory however as anything that made the old man grovel was bad news. His bravado slackened as he waved the car through the checkpoint. “You're still an ass, Clint. Detective Roy is waiting for you. You're not the only one they let in on their little secrets, you old fuck. S'cuse my language, Miss.”

McClintock sighed as the vehicle began rolling again. He turned toward Pari slowly. “I doubt the boys'll fuck up a chance to catch this bastard. S'cuse my language. They're stubborn but they're good people. They're worth savin’, ma'am.”

“I wouldn’t have thought otherwise, I want to catch them too - whoever is behind it. Believe me, we will.” Her voice trailed off and she tilted her head to watch the scene outside of the window, the mountains - the forest. It was a world away from Seattle, a universe from Mumbai. There was a chilling dissonance here that only seemed to become more unnerving as the car approached the destination. 

“You know, McClintock - I believe that a lot can be said for human intuition and gut feeling,” as she spoke softly, she placed her badge back in the inside pocket of her jacket. “You’ve lived here your whole life - correct me if I’m wrong - out of our small team, you know this area and the people the best, yes? Tell me - what does you gut tell you about this right now?” There was a seriousness to her tone, but not an uncomfortable one. To her, everything was part of the investigation, and while she did not mean to put her new colleague on the spot like that, she knew that his thoughts would be of fundamental value. 

Her tone was inviting, warm even, but her tongue flashed the Sword of Damocles. For what awaits all in power? That omnipresent threat of destruction, it sung malice to the hearts of kings but what of the guard sent to protect them? To give your life in the line of duty, the fear of the martyr and every damn lawman just trying to get home. And now Moralez never would. After a long while Clint spoke. “Well miss,” his tone was deliberate. “Miss, I’m afraid whatever happened to the Mulligans also befell my friend. I’m afraid we’ll find Moralez dead and butchered and there won’t be enough for his family to bury. I’m afraid Roy won’t have a lick of evidence that can point us to the killer, and I’m afraid we’ll be the ones to find the two of those heartbreaking discoveries are one.” He dropped back into silence then, the air heavy in his lungs.

“I’m sorry in advance for what we might see, I imagine there’s not much dismemberment in your office.” A breeze of levity, a knowing jab, it was all he could muster. As the tires ached toward their destination the rumbling whine seemed to match the lawman’s dread. “We’ll be there soon I think, Roy’ll want to meet y’as soon as we arrive.” Gone was the song on his lips and the fire in his eyes, all that remained was the gravedigger’s guilt. “Miss, I shouldn’t’a left him alone that night.” His voice trailed off as he turned towards the quickly approaching reds and blues ahead.

Pari could only listen to the man. He was an older gentleman, it was apparent not only in his appearance, but his manner and way of speaking with her. It was refreshing, she liked that he had some old-fashioned class about him. But there was more than that buried beneath it. “Don't apologise for that,” was about all she could muster at first. She just let herself look into his eyes with a comforting smile - as much as she could manage, at least. They were still very new acquaintances, and she didn't think it appropriate to extend any further words on the matter of the crime scene.

“Try not to think that way, you'll pollute your own mind with toxicity when it must remain clear now. Do not let yourself feel blame,” she spoke firmly, knowing that the words would fall on deaf ears. She had seen it before, she had witnessed how guilt like that could unravel a person. She herself had unraveled over less… She would need to keep an eye on Clint. As the car stopped, she felt an anxiety form in her stomach, how bad could it be?

If there had been an atmosphere before, it was nothing compared to this. The scene was in slow motion, captured and held there in a heavy and morose ambiance, threat and terror looming over the horizon - something quietly sinister stirring below. It was as though the whole thing would collapse at any moment. She felt eyes on their car, not everyone, but enough for it to make her feel uncomfortable and like the stranger that she was. She was out of place here completely and it only caused the anxiety to further stab at her guts. She took a deep breath in and clicked her finger against the button of her seatbelt. “Alright, let's find Roy…” her tone was subdued and heavy, followed by the long exhalation from her nose. 

“Right. No sense wastin’ any more time. Now, if anyone gives you trouble out here you let me know. They may not like me but at least they respect me.” With that the lawman slid from the dark vehicle and began his march toward Roy when the dark figures caught his eye from the bushes. Kitted out and dangerous, he figured there would be plenty of time to discuss their “guests” later. For now there was work to be done and he’d need to knock the cobwebs lose. “Howdy Detective. This here is Parinaaz Bhatt and I’m hoping I’m pronouncing that correctly. Miss Pari, this is Detective Roy and she’ll be our info drop on this.”

“Clint.” Roy said, a genuine smile to see the old man here and in such high company, as far as the pecking order of Law Enforcement went. She cut a very different figure than the rest of the police about the scene. Dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, her hair done up in a tight bun and thick-rimmed glasses, looking like she’d be more home in a less rural police force. Her accent was all the same familiarity of the hills to Clint, though, “You must be Pari.”

The two women shook hands and Roy wasted no time, only worrying about her job when she was wearing the badge, “I trust you know the background of all this. None of us have been here long and I haven’t even gotten a chance to really survey the scene. I’ll leave that to you, I guess,” Roy nodded and smiled to Pari, “Have a look in the trailer if you’d like, it’s where I’d start. Far as outside goes, I noticed tire tracks and marked off some boot prints.”

“Clint, I guess you can stay with me. I haven’t had a chance to greet our fuckin’ guests over there.” She shook her head, all dagger-eyed at the two black-fatigued men at the edges of the scene like carrion birds, “Fuckin’ dressed to impress, though.”

“I noticed that as well, wish you’d have told me we were having folks over I’d have brought more whiskey.” Clint raised a finger and tapped on the tin of tobacco in his breast pocket. He’d need to stop by the gas station in the morning, he had a feeling this was going to be a long morning. With practiced ease the lawman lipped his dip and turned to face the detective once more. “Boot prints might be regulation, easy way to rule them out as Moralez’. Shall we see what our esteemed colleagues want before all that gear gives’em heat stroke?”

[hr]

Roy had seemed affable enough, which gave Pari some relief. The only thing worse than one lawman with an attitude was two lawmen with attitude. She was grateful for the woman’s straight forwardness. She did as she was asked - and headed to the trailer, snapping on a pair of blue nitrile gloves as she walked. The scent was familiar, and that familiarity was a brief and welcome distraction from the severity of the situation at hand. 

The first thing to note was that there were no signs of struggle inside the trailer, that much was certain. In fact the entire trailer was clean and lingering on the air inside was the subtle scent of the air freshener that they used. Lemons, possibly with some kind of flower.

At first glance nothing seemed amiss, but that was of course the mask of what had happened. It hadn’t happened in this room - no struggle after all. Pari wondered if it was Vicki or Daniel who kept the place so clean - she wondered what kind of couple they were. Did they share responsibilities? Or did Vicki manage everything? Whoever is was keeping house, they clearly took pride in it. She’d never really know now. She could see their faces in the framed photographs adorning the trailer. They looked happy, sociable, well-liked. Seeing them in their moments made her feel slightly closer to them, a glance at them and she felt the warmth of the couple - and a realisation of why the atmosphere was so damn cold around here now. Pari sighed. 

On the kitchen bench, there sat a can filled with cigarette butts. Someone was a smoker, more than likely Daniel. It explained why there was such a presence of air freshener - maybe Vicki didn’t particularly encourage his habit. Pari was careful not to disturb the muddy footprints on the flooring. Boots, they’d walked straight to the bedroom - not stopping to disturb a thing, no slight turn to look at a photo or take something from a drawer. Whoever they were, they worked with absolute efficiency in their task to kill. They were methodical and cold about it. 

As she paced around - in her own methodical manner - she wanted to observe everything. She took her notes on a small wirebound notebook with a mechanical pencil. A long list of short bullet points. 

The bedroom was entirely different. The bed was soaked through with blood stains. It was grisly, but not unexpected. None of it had gotten anywhere else, there were no splashes or splatters on the wall, no drips on the floor. It was all contained in their bed. Two bibles sat on the bedside tables either side of the bed. They were a happy, religious couple that were well liked in the area. Something about the scene wasn’t adding up for Pari. Her thoughts were that this was a deliberate act intended to shock and shock alone.

The way that the tire tracks headed out of the Mulligan residence and were lost after the dirt road indicated that whomever this was, they knew their way here. The agents had discussed the probability of them living in one of the towns connected to the road to be the culprit. A possibility, but too early to say in Pari’s mind. Still, she added it to the bullet list. 

The last item of note was a Mossberg 870 in the the closet. Clean - as clean as the rest of the trailer, and it didn’t appear to have been fired recently. For show perhaps? The box of shells sat beside it. It was a standard crime scene, it was unremarkable - it was like so many that she had seen before. So why was there such a heavy atmosphere and tension lingering. That was the concern, that’s where this slipped from an everyday homicide to something that had required their special team. She had to do her best on this one.

She removed the gloves, placing them in her jacket pocket for now as she got far enough away from the trailer and scanned the area to Clint. She had to share her findings and thoughts. 

[hr]

“You know, Clint,” Roy said as they sauntered over to the two gear-laden, black-fatigued men in the small tactical buggy, “You ever get that feeling in your gut that somebody you’re going to approach while working a case is just going to be a [i]fucking asshole?[/i]”

Clint chuckled, at least some semblance of warmth to it. “I guess I didn’t tell you we ran into Hillock down the hill, did I?” He gave a knowing look to Roy as she continued.

“Hillock’s just another boy who never thought about being a man because he grew up a few miles from here in the city. Those assholes don’t give a shit about White Tree until now because it’s a big case.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen him in so many others when I was in Internal Affairs. I’m getting the gut feeling that these guys are going to be [i]fucking assholes,[/i] Clint. Like the rest of them around you and me.”

Just as expected, one of them rose and the other followed just a tick off from unison. Roy knew who the leader was. Roy waved but the two men wordlessly got in their buggy, the thing roaring to life and spitting up a rooster’s tail of dirt as it disappeared in a smoke of exhaust and the feeling left behind after you’d just been a prick to. “Alright, Clint. What’s your detailed analysis of the fuckery?”

“If I had to hazard a guess, I imagine Vera doesn’t care too much for state enforcement.” He spat the word. “Bastards.”

“I wouldn’t either if I was the asshole dealing with the one set of people in West Virginia that won’t bend over for me.” The two turned around just as Pari was finished following some of the tire tracks. Roy waved across the distance, “Think the girl will do good? Morales deserves a good team looking for him.”

“She seems too kind for the work she does. Hasn’t made her a hard ass prick like us yet.” Another knowing look. Roy may have been all business but she’d always been amiable. Not like those fuckers in blue. “I think we’ll find out once we hear what she’s found.”

“Give it some time.” Roy nudged Clint, the old lawman was salty, sure but Roy knew him to be one of the only people around here who was genuinely in it to make things different around here, for the better. “You either start drinking because you find out you barely make a difference, or you start drinking because it’s the only reward you get for making that little difference.”

“Alright, Pari,” Roy said as the three of them rejoined each other’s company, “What’s to do about the trailer?”

“A little early to say… But I have some theories of course. I want to check where those boot prints end and begin too. This killer is cold though, he deliberately chose the Mulligans but he didn’t care about them. He cared about what they represent to this town I’d say… A pair of upstanding, Christian people.” She thumbed the pages of her notebook as she spoke to Roy and Clint, meeting both of their eyes in turns. “It’s my belief that they weren’t his real target, there was no struggle, nothing disturbed inside. It was quick, they probably didn't even know...” her stare held on Clint this time before she looked over her shoulder towards the tyre marks and footprints again. 

“I would really like to know about Morales, his life, hobbies, interests…Everything. That’s where I’d go next…” 

“Morales was a good man. Loved his family, did his job, protected the people. It was no secret he didn’t care much for Vera, none of us do, but he had this suspicion the sheriff's office was in their pocket. Rumors start everyday over there but it may have something to do with his disappearance.”

Roy pointed to the tire tracks, “Three sets. Different treads. One of them is Morales’ cruiser, they matched up to his car- which we found about a mile towards the city.” Roy shook her head, “The other two, I’ve got no clue. You might want to check those boot prints.”

A short walk brought them to a space in the field where a set of tire tracks looped around the sharpest. “I figure somebody came here, stayed for a bit, and went. Two different people, because I’ve never seen somebody who can drive two cars at once.”

“It had to have been a team, Clint, Pari. The Cruiser was gone before the deputies got here and driving here after Morales checked in, disposing his car, walking back and then going on their own merry way in their own vehicle would’ve taken a long time.” Roy looked both Clint and then Pari in the eye, “I figured it was too professional for some backwoods hillbilly bullshit like White Tree. No offense, Clint, but we both know the stock that grows up here. We did.”

She hiked up the legs of her pants to bend down, putting her hand out, fingers spread and sweeping over the field, “Lots of activity. Maybe cleaning up. Morales was ex-military and it’s usually quiet this far into the sticks. Nobody could’ve snuck up on nobody, much less a soldier-boy, out here unless they knew he was coming and ready as hell.” Roy got back up, “Twenty dollars says you check these boot prints and they’ll be too many sets to prove me wrong on this.”

Sure enough, after a bit of a walk around the property, it was revealed that Roy was right to both Clint and Pari. The two returned to her, “Their dog was taken out. Knife. One long cut on the throat.” She shook her head and it looked as shaken as she should be at this, “How the hell are you going to sneak up on a damn German Shepherd? The thing must have been rooted, scared shitless. You find me a man alive that can put the fear in a hound set on protecting its family.”

Roy put her hand on her hips, “That’s all I found. I just needed you to get into that trailer. I wanted another pair of eyes to get in there and figure I ain’t finally crazy after all the shit I seen.” Roy frowned, “Thoughts?”

“I think it’s high time we check those prints.”

“After looking? I’m only more confused now… Something truly strange has happened here - that’s for sure. I want to get to the bottom of it, and believe me I will. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with the truly strange and depraved…” Pari folded her notebook into her pocket, eyes narrowing as she took one last long look over the entire scene from where she stood - her breathing slow and arms folded over her chest.

“Any luck with those men?” She asked the two, in a voice that suggested she was still giving her concentration to the scene. 

Her eyes broke from the scene and she turned once more to Roy, “Ma’am, I’d like a call when the forensic analysis begins at the lab. I’d like to be there - if it hasn’t already started. Let me know. In the meantime I’d like to take a look through town and get a feel for this place if that is alright with you Clint.”