The Detective

"Detective Hammond I presume?" The words echo through my mind as I open the door to my car and step onto the street. Ignoring them, I walk to the door of the office and pause just as I get to the door. "Please, I know you can hear me. You have to help me. I have no where else to go." I hear ringing in my mind again. Looking around, I see no one talking to me, no one paying attention to me, no one even standing within fifty feet of me. Quietly, I whisper, "Yes, I hear you. Let me get to my office and then I will talk to you more. No one can know I can hear you. Just follow me." "Okay." I hear echo in my mind. As I walk into the building, I get my first glimpse of the voice I heard. Hard to see, but there just the same, is the figure of a man. Dressed in a button up shirt and a loose tie, I see the bullet holes that rattled his body. I make a mental note and begin climbing the stairs to the seventeenth floor. As I get to the door, I pause. Holding out my hand, I place it on the window of the door. The window pane lights up with a faint light and I hear the scanner start up. "Here we go." I whisper as I hear the scanner stop. Putting my hands to my side, I feel the door that is beneath my feet give way. I remember the first time I took this entrance. I didn't put my hands down fast enough and by the time I got to the bottom I had a gash about four inches long in my arm. One mandatory sterilization of the chute later, everyone knew "High-five Hammond". Took me a long time to live that name down. Conveniently, I didn't have much time to worry about the name, as soon after that, the voices started to come back. Originally, they started when I was about twenty five years old. I would be working and I would start hearing people talking to me. They would tell me stories about how they got killed and soon after they would finish, they would just disappear. It wasn't until a year later that I started looking into one of the voices, checking out the story. When the facts started lining up, I started to find my way up the ladder; eventually becoming a detective in the homicide division of the KUPI or the Kensington United Police Institute. Unfortunately, an accident on the job caused an extended absence from the Institute that turned permanent when I got approached by the KPKAI or the Kensington Preliminary Killer Apprehension Institute; a secret division of the Institute that specialized in serial killers and mass murderers. The pay was better and I was guaranteed an office and a team of investigators to ensure the accident that I had never happened again.

Seeing the chute beginning to slope to a level plane, my mind focuses again and I see my assistant waiting at the end of the chute. I reach the end of the chute and the glass doors open up above me, allowing me to exit the chute and start my day. "Good morning Rita." I say, standing up and exiting the chute. "Good morning Mr. Hammond. Your coffee and the preliminary reports for the day as requested." She says, smiling. I take the coffee and reports and look at her. "Thank you Rita, code 23 thank you." "Right away sir." As the image of the 29 year old blonde fades, the machine frame that acts as Rita's body folds until it is walking on four limbs and the image of a dog appears. As it trots down the hall, I can't help myself and release a bit of a chuckle. Rita, or Readily Imaged Technical Assistant, is a modern marvel. Truly the best assistant I could ever have, they are programmed with an artificial intelligence like no other. Though they have a lot to learn, they continue to surprise me every day. Walking to my office, I see many of my team have yet to arrive. "Late again I see. Must have been a late night last night." I think, stepping into my office and shutting the door. As soon as the door shuts, immediately I am bombarded with three different voices, all in my mind. The first one is the figure I saw outside the building today. He starts telling me how his coworker came to work drunk. His boss, not wanting to deal with him, sent the coworker home. Not wanting to be responsible, the boss sent the figure to take the coworker home. The only problem is that when he got the coworker home, there was a drive by shooting in the neighborhood. The coworker survived, but the figure didn't. As I write the details down, I ask for any identifying characteristics of the drive by car. Luckily, the figure had looked at the plates as he laid in the street, losing blood. He recited the numbers off and asked what was next. I told him I would pass it along to a friend in homicide and that's all I could do but that we would catch who did it. As his voice faded away, the other two voices kept trying to talk over one another. The longer I listened, the more I could tell, this was a married couple. Obviously these two ladies had been on their honeymoon by the looks of the figures. One was dressed in a white wedding gown and the other was dressed in a beautiful white and blue tuxedo. As I'm listening, I see a vivid picture enter my mind. I see a man stepping out of the woods. He has a rifle. He seems distraught. As I look down, I see the bride laying on the ground, a puddle of blood forming under her. As the "groom-bride" is screaming, the man from the woods is pacing in the grass about fifty yards away. Suddenly, the man stops and has a realization I've seen one too many times. The man looks at the groom-bride and raises his gun. As the echo of the gun rings in my head, I feel the sadness melt away. I'm returned to my office, the two figures looking at me. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" I ask. "Yes." I hear echo in my mind. "We said forever when we walked down that aisle. I wouldn't have been able to live without her. It was an accident in the beginning. The end was a favor to me." I hear the groom-bride say to me. I get a few more details and ask what they want done. "He has been contemplating taking his own life. All we want is to be together in death and for him to know that we forgive him." the bride says. As they fade away, I sit at my desk and take out my notepad and my coffee. I take a sip and grimace at the taste. "Cold as dirt, and it tastes like it too." I say as I put the coffee in the trash. Starting up the computer I pull up my email. As I wait for the email to load, I take my phone out and call my old partner in homicide. I relay the information from the drive-by and ask him to keep it between us. He knows not to ask when I call him like this so he just thanks me and assures me he will keep me in the loop. He hangs up and I look through my emails. Standing up, I see someone walking past my office window. I immediately recognize the man from the woods and shake my head as I realize who it is. Leaning out the door, I say in a steady voice," Hey boss, can I talk to you for a bit?"