Chapter 8

Collins had had this dream many times before, but it never made it any less stressful. 

He was back in his old office, sitting at his old work desk. The table was filled with files, scattered all over the place. It looked like a mess but Collins knew exactly where everything was and how the cases connected to one another. 

   He had been tracking down the person who had shot his previous work-partner in the leg, causing said partner to quit the police force and leave Collins to work alone. But when he had found the guy who had shot his ex partner, the guy had ended up already dead. From the clues he could find the man had been connected to the mafia. And from there Collins had figured everything out, piece by piece. 

   All the evidence lied in his grasp and he only needed to make the arrest with the help of his colleagues. 

But things never ended up that way. 

The next moment he was standing outside the evidence room, watching as it all burned down. The flames didn’t feel hot inside the dream. They were only dancing in utter silence before the detective. 

Collins turned away from the fire and suddenly he was inside of his superior’s office. The clock on the wall was ticking but it wasn’t moving forward, only flicking its hands back and forth. 

Chief McCoy turned in her chair towards him. 

”You will take the blame, that way we will be saved from the mess you’ve put us in” Her voice was as stern as ever. Even after having worked under her for a few years it never ceased to make Collins flinch when she spoke in such a manner. 

”The mess I put us in?” Collins asked in confusion, the memory of those bright flames still burning in his eyes. 

The Chief sighed at his ignorance, ”You’re young, I should have warned you beforehand. But it’s too late now, Hal. You have to take responsibility”

Collins stepped towards the desk in frustration, ”I don’t understand” He saw how the Chief gave him a look of disappointment. 

”You think the most influential person in this city, who has managed to hide the fact that they are the leader of a mafia ring from the public, would ever be so easily brought down?” She got up from her seat and moved around it to talk face to face with Collins, ”You have evidence? She has money. You have witnesses? She has the power to silence anyone. You can’t win this Hal. All you’ve done is stir up trouble where you shouldn't have. If I hadn’t taken care of this under the table you would be dead by now”

Collins furrowed his brows, ”So you made a deal behind my back?”

”I saved your life”, the chief said, raising her voice. She poked a harsh finger at Collins chest to emphasize her words, ”and everyone else's, that was working with you on this case. The case that I specifically told you not to handle!”

”And what about justice?” Collins asked while his hands squeezed into tight fists resting at his sides. 

The Chief looked at him in disbelief, ”Justice? Phah! There’s no justice here, you should know that by now! All we can do is try to keep everyone alive here. And you poking the hornet's nest almost caused us to-”

”We could have arrested them!”Collins interrupted her, ”I had all the evidence. We are trained soldiers for fuck’s sake! What the fuck are you so scared for?!” he shouted loud enough that their conversation could clearly be heard from the outside. 

”You don’t know anything”, The Chief said, her eyes showing more emotion now, ”Do you understand? How would you know, when you have no family?! You have no one left to protect! How could you understand how afraid I, and everyone else, is to lose what's most important to them?!”

Collins was about to rebuke her but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. He tried to scream but it was impossible. The air became suffocating. Walls began to crumble around him. 

Collins woke up gasping for air. He cursed as he sat up and tried to even out his breathing. Again he had seen the same dream. This had been happening almost daily after he had left the police force. 

   

”Fuck” he cursed under his breath before getting up. He hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen yesterday after Elliot had run off. He had been too busy brooding and thinking of what to do next. 

James Lamb would return after a few days. This meant that he now had the perfect opportunity to lay out all of his clues and rack his brain until he would receive new information. So instead of wallowing in self pity, Collins got up and began to lay out all of the papers onto the floor. 

It wasn’t long before the previously empty and clean room looked like utter chaos. Not only was the floor covered in paper, the walls were plastered full with notes and red thread that ran between the clues until it created a spider-like web. 

It wasn’t enough. All he could do was speculate. He had now managed to narrow it down into three main suspects; Isaac Hemmingway, Elijah Hemmingway and the butler. Elliot wasn’t completely off the list as he clearly wasn't telling him everything, so he could only hold onto his suspicion for a while longer. His gut was telling him Elliot wasn’t involved. But Collins knew better than to blindly trust his own gut feeling. 

 

Out of the three main suspects, who none had actual clear alibis, the butler and Isaac Hemmingway seemed most suspicious. And Collins wasn't going to cross out the possibility that there could be multiple people involved in this either. 

Why was Elijah in such shock? Why did Isaac Hemmingway go and argue with Dr. Gibson the day after the murder? And why had the doctor seemed so off during their visit? 

More questions than answers were appearing as Collins tried to piece it all together. It annoyed him. He was becoming more and more irritated as time went on. As he stared at the words on paper, he wondered how long his determination would last before he would begin doubting himself again. 

-

Peach’s Bar

July 21st

The evening had just arrived when Elliot walked inside the bar. He was drenched from head to toe from the pouring rain outside. Though it was cold, his wolf-body was warm. Still, he felt great relief when he got to sit in a dry place. He sat on his usual spot near the back, where Barry was already on his second pint of beer. 

   Elliot shook his head like a dog and flung water all over the place. Some of his wolf-like behavior was instinctual and hard to keep in check. 

   Barry, though used to it by now, grimaced as he tried to dodge most of the droplets in vain. 

”Hello to you too, I guess” he said, annoyed already. 

Elliot ignored him and pulled out a bottle from the inside of his shirt. He usually snuck his own drinks to the bar, he barely had enough money left to buy more anyway. 

”Why are you so quiet today, did something happen?” Barry asked in genuine concern for once. He had noticed his friend wasn’t acting like his usual self. 

”No”, Elliot lied and took a swing out of his whiskey. He didn’t want to talk about it. He was feeling guilty and embarrassed enough as it was. What had he been thinking, acting like that towards the detective? First flirting for no reason like the stupid slut he was, and then getting triggered by a simple question, then running away like a sensitive baby. 

Embarrasing. 

He wasn't even sure what he was doing. He knew that his family was hiding who actually killed Sherry. It was so obvious. And he knew why they were hiding it too, which made this complicated. He wanted justice too, kinda. Well, he wanted his father behind bars, that's for sure. But he actually didn't know who had killed Sherry. He really hoped it had been his father. That way he could easily find another reason to hate the bastard and he could be put to jail and far away from him. 

   This was stupid. He had decided to play detective to pass the the time and to make sure that his father didn’t use his stupid money and stupid influence to ruin the investigation. All he had done until now was look like an idiot and act like a fool. Elliot supposed that that was what he did best. 

Barry watched him from the side with furrowed brows. 

”Really? You don't look too good… Did something happen with the detective?” he asked again. 

Elliot felt angry all of a sudden. He snapped, 

”Shut up” 

It was dumb, the way he did this whenever anyone showed any real concern for him. It was like he wasn't in control of his own body and his own actions anymore. He couldn't look at Barry at all. He kept his gaze fixated on the label of his bottle. 

Barry sighed in annoyance, ”Huh? I’m actually trying to be nice to you right now”

”Well stop trying then!”Elliot said, his grip on the whiskey tightening dangerously, ”I don't need you to be nice to me.”

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Barry had seen this version of Elliot many times before. He hated it. 

”You’re pushing me away because you feel threatened”, he said and watched as Elliot finally turned to look at him. His stare was full of malice but behind it was just a wounded animal. 

”Fuck you” Elliot quickly looked away. His cursing did not carry much power. It sounded sad and pathetic instead. 

Elliot swallowed around a lump in his throat. It didn't help when Barry put a hand on his shoulder. He hated it. He wanted to rip that hand off and chew on it. Was that him or the wolf talking? Full moon wasn’t until two weeks from then. Maybe it was him then. Maybe he was just as much of a monster as the wolf was. 

He didn't bite. Of course he didn't. But he did let out a growl. It only made Barry laugh under his breath. 

”We don’t have to talk about it. I could distract you instead?”, he offered. 

This was their dynamic really. They had an awful friendship, that sometimes was more than that but never anything more than just a distraction. And yet it was one of the things that kept Elliot at least a little bit sane. 

”Guess I won’t drink the rest of this then”, Elliot sighed and placed the bottle back where he had been keeping it. 

Elliot slept at Barry’s that night. Tangled in sheets that didn’t bring him much comfort. But they did bring him distraction as promised. Sleeping around usually took his mind off the dark pit that it sometimes fell into. And then the next day he could pretend like he was fine again. He wasn’t, but he would put on a mask once again. 

-

Hollyhill Inn

July 25th 

Collins didn't know how many days had gone by as he had locked himself up in his room and turned all of his files upside down. 

   The kitchen was a mess. At least he had eaten. Despite his efforts, he hadn’t arrived at any actual conclusions. All this time felt wasted. All his willpower had begun to seep away the more he tried to think. 

He was at his low point once more. Though the sheer spite he had felt after leaving the police force had fueled him this far, even that had started to dull down. And it wasn’t good. He kept spiralling down even though he knew all he had to do was to find his resolve once more. 

What was he even doing all this for? For justice? Revenge? Who was he trying to even prove himself to? As if his former boss would give a shit what he was doing now. His pride had been trampled on and he had desperately tried to build it back up by coming all the way to this mountain village. 

Yet here he was, scrambling on the floor with minimal evidence and a case that felt too familiar. Why was it that he had to be the one to always get stuck trying to expose a rich person's wrongdoings. Why was the world such a place that justice was hard to serve and silence easy to buy? 

Collins thought of the victim then. How she must be haunting him from behind the grave and raging at him to do her justice. What else could be the reason he still got up from the floor and began making himself coffee. He didn't even know what Sherry Lamb looked like, he had yet to see the body after all, not that there would be much to see since she was burned so badly. 

But Collins had an awful nagging conscience and that conscience was showing him a woman who could have lived a happy normal life. It was showing him a sad looking man next to a grave.

If he didn't do this, who would? Since no one cared about justice, he should. At least one person should, right?

The detective sighed deeply as he drank his coffee unceremoniously. He put on his jacket, ready to head out after having that strange inner battle with himself. He got to the door and opened it. To his surprise there was a nervous wolf-eared man behind it, about to knock but his hand had stopped midair. 

”James Lamb is back, so I came to see if…”, Elliot talked quietly before shaking his head and clearing his throat. Suddenly he had a mask of a more cheerful person on and he smiled without it reaching his eyes. ”Let’s just pretend nothing happened last time I was here! Good? Good. Ok so James is back, we should go interview him right?”

Collins considered talking about it, but it seemed Elliot was adamant at moving on. So he only nodded, letting Elliot lead him over to the Lamb residence.