FicWad

The couple had explained to - who I would later find out to be - Officer Petes and Wiles that they were road tripping around the country and had stopped to stretch their legs for a while. They had decided to walk around the area and unfortunately for them, on their walk they had discovered our C.O. They said they touched nothing, didn't even get in within two meters. They simply saw the dead body and called the police.

Curiosity is a powerful thing, and I had learned that people liked to look more closely at things they have never seen before. Most people have never seen a dead body before, lucky people I would call them. But these lucky few get curious when they stumble upon one just like this. They liked to touch. They liked to play cop. They liked to stick their big fat noses in things that didn't concern them. Most of all they liked to fuck up my investigations with those noses.

I had come to assume that at least one thing had been touched or moved at a crime scene. It is never as it was left, either by natural causes such as weather or people's plain stupidity. Yes, you can get dumb cops. I once had a case where I rocked up and the Officer on scene had needed to use the facilities - to put it nicely – and had gone right there using the victim's bathroom. That was a nightmare of paperwork.

So when the couple said they didn't touch anything, that they stayed at least two metres away. I naturally assumed they were lying. Naturally. Ray went straight over to the couple to verify everything Petes and Wiles had told us and ask questions that an Officer wouldn't think to ask. It sounds arrogant, but its truth. Officers don't think the same way as a Detective. An Officer's job is to control and man the situation, a Detective's job is to figure out what caused the situation - in layman's terms.

I headed straight for the corpse, I didn't like talking to bystanders. While they had useful information they didn't talk as much as a corpse. While silent a body can say volumes, it was a cliché but again truth. Officer Wiles, was a typical cop. He thought he had seen everything, so nothing penetrated but you could see that slight crinkle in the eyes when he looked upon the body. He hadn't seen this before and it disturbed him, but in typical cop fashion he hid it behind a tough exterior. He looked about forty-something, so he probably had seen a fair bit of nastiness, but you never really saw anything until you were on Homicide then you walked into a whole new world. Not just your domestic violence and occasional gang shooting. In homicide you got the Serial Killers, the Psychopaths, the deranged and the straight crazy.

There was a half a dozen un-named uniforms standing around, some were writing things down on little pads for their reports, one was talking on a cellphone a bit off from everyone else. He looked strained, probably talking to a superior. There were two uniforms standing side by side, one had his arm crossed against his chest and annoyed expression on his face. While the other looked slightly concerned, casually looking over his shoulder ever now and then. They were subtly trying to hide a Rookie he was throwing his guts up on the dry dirt.

Wiles lead me to who appeared to be the man in charge, Sergeant Frank Collins. I didn't know why he was here but it didn't really matter at the moment, all I was concerned with was my dead body. Sergeant Collins lifted the tape and I walked under, Wiles turned and walked over to where the Rookie was stilling on his knees. Collins said nothing as we made it the rest of the way. It was about fifteen metres away from the highway. The family sure had stretched their legs.

I was watching the ground as I walked, still side stepping all the holes. It was because of this that I spotted the pile of butted out cigarettes. Looking up I noticed we were about a metre from the white tarp that flapped softly against the figure.

"Have any of the Uniforms been behind the tape?" I asked Collins.

Collins shook his head, while concentrating on the ground also. He stopped and saw that I was standing a little bit back. His shoulders heaved a sigh of frustration and made his way back to me. He looked down at the butts and crouched, grabbed a pen out of his own little pad and flicked on over. Marlboro. He took his pen and wrote in down.

"So much for two metres," he muttered under his breath. I couldn't help but smile, yes so much. But you can't always assume, the couple could – I stress could - be telling the truth if so the butts could have belonged to our killer. I pulled out a pair of latex gloves from the bag I was carrying and slide them on, then I retrieved a plastic evidence bag, put the butts in and sealed the chain of evidence. Scribbling all the necessary information of the front. I tucked it back into the bag and proceeded towards the body. It was all so routine. Find a coin pick it up but it in a bag and hope for the killer to have some bad luck. I laughed to myself as I thought of the little rhyme.

My face became serious again when Collins gathered up the tarp in his arms and gestured with his entire body. It was his way of saying 'well what do you make of this? Because I have no bloody idea.' And at first glance neither did I. At second glance I was stilled stumped. It didn't look like a homicide, it looked like an accident, a stupid accident.

The man was impaled on a tree branch and the tree branch was impaled into the earth. He was bent over backwards, his knees appearing as though they were supporting his weight while he rested against the branch, except the branch went right through his chest. His neck was tilted back at an awkward angle which screamed to me 'Corpse'. It was stiff from rigamortis, but you could tell just by looking at the body that once the branch had penetrated his chest he had gone limp. Nobody still alive or even asleep could have fallen into that position without some pain. But for him there was no more pain.

He was about six foot, his skin a dark brown, from a distance it could almost be mistaken for black. His face showed that he was African American, his nose was flat but not in a distasteful way. A veil of black hair spun down the branch resting in a pool on the dirt. His eyes were open staring up at the heavens, they were a rich golden brown, dead they still held a glimmer of life. It spooked me. But it was his ears that what fascinated me the most. They were covered in something small, they looked dulled and aged. Leaning forward, I saw a gaping hole in his right ear, it was about the size of twenty cent coin. Along the edges of there were pointy shards of something going up the length of his ear. On the left one, there were only two shards at the very top. It looked awkward and painful at the same time. As I looked on, I noticed more things, little things. He had scars scattered on his chest. Anyone else would have thought them random, but for some reason I immediately saw that they were above major organs. People had been trying to kill him for some time and only now had someone succeeded.

I took a couple of steps to get a closer look and I nearly fell into one of those blasted holes, Ray appeared by my side out of nowhere. He had caught me by the waist and was holding me up so I wouldn't fall.

"Thanks," I muttered, regaining my feet.

He showed me teeth again, "So what have we got?" He said rubbing his hands together as though he was about to tuck into a Sunday roast.

"Male, African-American, maybe around twenty-five and he seems to be impaled on a branch," I said in my best Detective voice.

"Oh really, Detective?" Ray wriggled an eyebrow at me and walked ahead.

When I caught up, paying attention to the holes, he was scowling. A deep set frown, it etched wrinkles I would have thought impossible into his smooth skin. The C.O was wearing only a pair of worn blue jeans, he chest was bare so his injury clearly visible. It was surprising how clean the area was around the branch sticking out of his chest. It was as though the branch had just slide right into place, there was no bruising of the skin, no blood dribbling down the side of the body. Nothing. He was simply dead and impaled.

"By the area around the wound, I would say he was dead before he was impaled," I said out loud.

Collins nodded in agreement, but Ray looked unsatisfied. He shifted his feet around, kicking dirt up and around. I covered my face and started coughing. Grabbing him by the arm, I pulled him to face me, frowning back at him.

"What are you doing?"

He said nothing, just looked down at the ground drawing my eyes with his. There in the red dirt was a pattern. I crouched down, it looked as though it was tattooed into the earth. There were two circles one inside the other joined by small letters - an O, S and an E - at three points in the shape of a triangle. The middle circle had a square within it, two sides of it weren't straight they were squiggly I couldn't think of any other word for it. Circles sat at each tip of the square, and lines criss-crossed causing triangles in the square. Tiny symbols sat in triangles, and at the bottom of the square there was another triangle with a line through it. If I had explained it to anyone it would have sounded intricate and complicated but looking at it, it looked slightly plain, for a pattern that was tattooed into the earth.

It was a white contrast against all the red, remembering I still had my gloves on I reached out to touch the markings. But Ray caught my wrist sharply, almost painfully.

"Don't touch it," was all he said. His whole body spoke of rage, his other hand was in a fist at his side. He slowly released my wrist, which I was thankful for.

"Why not?" I asked.

He hesitated as if unsure of what to say, I could see him thinking, he knew something he wasn't telling me. His face cleared almost as suddenly and was left blank, "Chain on evidence, it might disturb the pattern if you touch it-"

"But it looks like it's ingrained into the earth."

Ray just shook his head, "Looks can be deceiving," He turned back to the pattern and snapped a photo of it with the camera that hung around his neck. Stepping back a little he took another snap, and then got on his knees.

"What is he doing now?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

Ray rolled onto his back and wiggled closer to the corpse, avoiding the pattern on the ground, he kept wiggling until he was right under the body, he snapped another shot, focused the camera and shot another, then came wiggling back. He stood once more and stalked off. I wasn't sure what had just happened, but I knew one thing Ray looked pissed.

Collins looked just as perplexed as I, but to be undone, and got on my knees and tilted by head. I wasn't as tall as Ray so I could see under the corpse without lying in the dirt. Where the branch had impaled the man in the back was the same white pattern tattooed in his skin. All I could think of was 'well that's different'.

I found Ray twenty-five minutes later - after processing what there was of the tiny scene and a staggered walk back to car - shouting down the car radio. He was still too far away to make out exactly what he was saying. All I got was 'No – Not – Doing – Don't – Me! – Captain!' Shit he was yelling at Sam, great way to start off at the new precinct, my new partner yelling at my new boss who was also my kind of uncle. Just great.

When I finally got near enough to hear exactly what was going on all I got was 'Precinct now, Caddo!' I guessed we were leaving then but there was something I had to do before that. I walked over to the man and woman still wrapped around each other by the car. Smiling sweetly, I gave them my hand to shake. Up close they were just an average couple. I saw rings, so they were married. The woman had sandy brown hair and hazel eyes and a plain face. The man was just as plain, with short brown hair, a little subtle and a long face. Petes was standing next to them, making sure they didn't go anywhere. I suspected they weren't allowed to leave until Sergeant Collins gave the go ahead.

"Mr and Mrs. Hannington, this is Detective Sozer," Petes introduced.

"Hi, I'm sorry to ask any more questions but I just have one more. Do either of you smoke?" I said.

They both looked at each other and shook their heads.

"No Detective, neither of us do," Mr Hannington replied.

I didn't let my gaze drop, someone did and I needed to know who, "If either of you have any information I need to know it. There was evidence found and I need to know if the butts I found belong to any of you or if they belonged to someone else?" I shouldn't have told them that much, but I needed answers.

Mrs. Hannington sighed then looked at me, "What brand were they?"

"Malboro."

Mr. Hannington shook his head and looked towards they car, "Our daughter smokes them."

I gave them a small smile, "I'll need to talk to her."

Mr. Hannington finally let go of his wife and walked around the car, there was some hushed talking and then he reappeared, walking back to his wife. Their daughter looked about nineteen, she was a wiry girl, all legs and arms. She was wearing a black sun dress that had little red skulls trimming the edges, her hair was an unnatural red with bangs just above her eyes any longer and she wouldn't have been able to see. She walked over, slouched against the car and crossed her arms. A defiant one.

"Detective, this is Jamie," Mrs. Hannington said.

"Hi Jamie, I'm Detective Sozer, can you tell me if you were smoking near the body before. You won't be arrested but it does matter if you were, I need to know. Paperwork and all," I laughed slightly light-heartedly.

"Yes," was all Jamie said.

"You were okay good. Did you move anything or touch anything."

"No I didn't touch anything." She said looking me straight in the eye, and for once I believe a bystander when they said they didn't.

"Okay then. I think that's all. If you remember anything don't hesitate to call, an Officer gave you a card yes?"

Mr and Mrs. Hannington nodded.

I said goodbye and left them. One of uniforms was standing randomly in between the SUV and marked cars. He was holding a clip board. I signed both me and Ray out and then headed to the fuming man. He looked at me, tried to smile but half way through stopped. He couldn't hide that he was mad about something. He didn't want to tell me fine, but if he wouldn't someone better. I just hoped Sam would have calmed down enough by the time we got back.

The drive back was just as silent as the trip there, but now there was hostility in the air. It vibrated off Ray in waves, at one point I thought I felt the car shake from it. He was gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Once we were parked back in the police basement, Ray noticed me watching him. He loosened his hands and laid them in his lap.

"I have a little problem with anger, it sometimes boils out of control, it's no one's fault. I'm not even mad at anyone in particular now but it just sort of grows. Feel free to shot me if I ever go to do something-," He stopped, thinking of the right word to use.

I placed a gentle hand on his arm, "Let's just hope it never comes to that."

Ray just nodded. I didn't know if he understood what I meant. I had seen what an uncontrollable rage can do to a man, he seemed to have a grip on it slightly but if he ever turned that shit onto me I would not be cautious enough to miss. Not yet, I didn't know him well enough. But if there was another way, I would try to use it first. Try.

I was sitting in Sam's office while he typed on the computer. He was deliberately making us wait because he was still a little mad at Ray. About five minutes later he looked up.

"So Caddo, what makes you think someone else should take this case and not your pretty self?" Sam queried.

"It's not our problem," Ray was slouched in his chair, cool, calm and collected. The elevator ride was it took apparently. He seemed un-phased by Sam's growing annoyance.

"Not our problem how?"

"It's not a murder, I told you already it's a traditional Rite. Whoever did this is out of our jurisdiction." Ray didn't explain any further. He had lost me, but not Sam.

Sam had straightened up and leant forward. They locked eyes and neither would relent. It was though I wasn't even in the room.

"I don't care what you call it Caddo. Here murder is murder. You are going to find out who did this and you are going to do it by the end of the week. How many more bodies do you need before you start actually doing your job," Sam's voiced started to rise as he spoke, and with each work Ray sat straighter and by the end he was rigid in the seat.

"Hey, wait a minute. How many bodies have there been?" I asked, looking from one to the next.

Sam leant back in his chair, rubbing his brow, "This one would make four. They keep popping up past the stick for the past couple of months."

Sam gave Ray a withering stare as though it was his fault, Ray obviously thought the same because he jumped to his feet, his fist coming down hard on the desk in front of Sam.

"How many times do I have to tell you? We don't have jurisdiction. They have claimed their land, and by law we are not even allowed to enter. Their law is onto themselves. You would never suggest I walk into another country and try and arrest one of their criminals. It's just not done. There really is nothing we can do. Only they can walk their land, literally. If anyone else tries they will end up just like the other four bodies – dead." Ray yelled.

Sam remained surprisingly calm. I sat back and simply watched again lost to what they were talking about. Sam gave Ray another long look.

"We don't have jurisdiction? And they can only be punished by their own laws? And only they can walk their land, yes?" He made it into a question, as though Ray had not only just said that moments ago.

"Yes," Ray answered.

Sam clapped his hands together and smirked. I knew that smile. Whatever battle Ray was fighting he had just lost.

"Then I don't see a problem."

Ray collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands, "Sam, please don't make me."

I frowned, Ray had just called his Captain by his given name. Something was definitely up and I still had no idea what was going on. Geez and it wasn't even past twelve yet.

"Ray, I want this killer and you're the only one who can catch him for me," Sam said, reaching behind him and grabbing a couple of glasses and a bottle of Scotch. It wasn't even mid-day but by the looks on the men's faces they needed it.

Through his hands Ray said, "Don't assume it's a man, it could very well be a woman."

I had to stop a laugh, "A woman, I know I'm one of the first to battle for fair judgement. But come on, there is no way a woman could of impaled that man this morning. Not unless she was Xena." I was frowning as I said this because Ray looked completely serious.

"You know, you're not far off," Ray said accepting the drink from Sam.

"So what are you saying, there are warrior princesses out there in the desert killing men twice their size," I scoffed.

Ray's famous smile was back, "Pretty much."

I turned to Sam, he was just watching us a small smile on his lips. They were both enjoying this, me in disbelief and totally in the dark.

Three empty glasses later, the men seemed to be on speaking terms again. Ray was resigned to the fact that he was doing something – I still didn't know what – and there was no persuading Sam to see otherwise.

"So when are you going?" the Captain asked.

Ray laid a hand on his stomach, "After lunch I think, if we are let in it will be a while before they allow us to eat."

Sam just nodded and stood up. Ray followed and they shook hands, I guessed the meeting was over.

"I'll see you later Captain," I said over my shoulder as we left the office.

I wasn't sure but I thought I heard him mutter 'god I hope you do.' I don't know if I imagined it, but a not so imaginary shiver ran down my spine.

Back at our desks, Ray was sitting with his feet resting on the desk's smooth surface once more. He was flipping through pamphlets. Asian Cuisine, Italian Lasagne Special, Steak Galore Thursdays' was printed in big flashy letters on the top of each one. We really were going to go have lunch. I looked down at my watch, it was only ten past eleven.

Ray waved the pamphlets in my face, "what do you feel like?"

I took each one and scanned them thoroughly. The lasagne looked fantastic, it was making me feel hunger that hadn't been there five seconds ago. Dropping the other two pamphlets on my side of the desk, I gave him back the Lasagne Special pamphlet.

He looked at it, turned that grin on me and grabbed his keys.