Autopsy of a Mind

Chapter 133: When We Meet

It was four in the morning when I scrubbed my eyes and sent out the progress email to the team. I had never imagined that writing emails to team members about progress would be on my resume. And then there was talking to the higher-ups about what was happening on the case, too. While Nash debriefed them. I would send out the collective email. Sometimes, some of them would respond with a 'keep up the good work,' or 'has this lead been followed' responses.

Good thing I wasn't nervous in front of authority or I would have been shaking in my boots. I turned off my email and rested my head on the table to get a nap. I saw Nash snoring away in his chair, his head bending over and I knew both of us were going to wake up with cramped necks and raging headaches. 

But progress had been made and we could catch some sleep.

I woke up to someone stroking my hair. I stiffened for a second before my ears caught the sound of the familiar breathing. I stirred, finally coming out of my drowsiness. 

"Awake?" Sebastian said softly. I felt a smile perk up my lips as I turned my head towards him. Ah, to wake up to his face. I had missed this. His eyes were green and bright as he looked down at me. He, too, had a small smile on his lips and his hands continued to stroke my hair. 

I hummed in acknowledgment.

"I brought you food," he told me. He showed me the little lunch bag in his hand.

"What did you order," I asked slowly. 

"Veggie wraps and soup." He glanced at Nash, who was still sleeping. "I brought enough for both of you, but he's a carnivore, so you can have more, okay?" I let out a small giggle. "Now get up and eat," he demanded. 

I stretched and raised my head. I finally realized that I had been surviving on coffee for the longest time and winced. "Could you heat it up?" I whined. "I'll go brush my teeth and wash up. I need food immediately." I paused. "Wake him up, too," I told Sebastian. 

"Yes, ma'am," he teased. He swatted my butt and I stared in horror at the boyish smirk on his face. 

"Sebastian!" I hissed. 

"What?" he asked innocently. 

"What have you been reading?"

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Get going. Now." The command propelled me forward and I passed by him to sprint to the bathroom with my toothbrush and toothpaste.

When I came back, the warm aroma of soup permeated the room.

I slumped down on the table and waited for him to bring the food to me. I saw Nash stir in his seat and blink, sleep still in his eyes. 

"Is that food for me?" he asked groggily. 

"Sorry, I only slave after my girlfriend. Co-workers don't count in this behavior," Sebastian said blandly. 

"Cold bastard." He stretched and took the seat in front of me. The three of us shared a meal and talked about what was going on.

"What are you working on, again?" Nash asked as he pushed the veggie wrap around.

"Unsolved serial arson cases from six years ago. No one was hurt and the arsonist made sure every home was empty before he set it on fire." He took a sip of his soup.

"Any suspects?" I asked. 

"Yeah. I went through the newspaper articles and whatever footage police had taken as evidence at the time," he sniffed. "No recurring faces in the crowd."

I nodded. "Usually, arsonists have a grudge against society and want to cause trouble, but they also like to come back to see how they have affected society, right?"

Sebastian nodded. "I can see why it was unsolved for so long."

"But you have a lead," Nash said matter-of-factly.

"Of course. I got a recurring theme in these cases that the police didn't look too deeply into."

"O wise one, tell us what it is," Nash commented humorously. 

Sebastian threw him a glare. "All the residents were on vacation at the time. Not long vacations just overnight trips or weekend getaways. Always happened in gated communities, too." He smirked. 

"Not in the same neighborhood, I assume?" I interjected. 

"No. That's the funny part. The fire was caused before lithium batteries caught on fire, too."

There was silence. 

Nash looked sour. "Well, it was someone who knew those people but the movement was unnatural. What do you think?" Nash looked like he had his own theory, but he didn't want to say it. 

"Well, you couldn't solve it so now I have to do it for you," Sebastian taunted. 

"Hey! I was never on those cases," he objected. 

"It's the security guard." He looked at us and saw that we wanted him to elaborate. "Families inform security at the gated community when they will not be at home. The security guard would have access to the crime scenes and watch from afar as people rushed to stop the fire or came to cover it. They also use a lot of lithium batteries. In flashlights, portable radios, and televisions." He shrugged. 

Nash gaped. "And you have a suspect?" he asked. 

"Of course. Went through the security company on duty at the time and a list of people who worked."

"And one person fits," I said immediately. 

"Yes," that was it. "I've put in the request for a detective to interrogate the suspect. And now I am moving on to the next case. It's a big one, too!" He sounded so excited. 

"Is it a serial killer?" Nash asked, knowing that must have been the case, seeing how excited Sebastian was. 

"Yes. An infamous one, at that!" he chuckled. 

"Well, I'm happy you get more research and accreditation under your belt," I raised a spoonful of soup to toast. Sebastian proudly raised his and we clicked the spoons before quickly putting them in our mouth. 

"You two are disgusting," Nash commented immediately. "I don't want to eat anymore." He rubbed his stomach. "I'll call for some takeout before the boyfriend and manager come in."

"When are they coming?" I asked.

"Boyfriend at nine-thirty and manager at twelve." I nodded. 

"You take manager and I will take the boyfriend?" I prompted with a small smile. Nash groaned. 

"You just want me to do more work, don't you?" I chuckled. "Okay, we're pinning it on him, right? Insinuating towards it and all?" he asked. 

"You've caught on. Best of luck."

- - - - -

One in the afternoon, Nash and I were both out, back in the office and smiling ear-to-ear.

"We have the message history between the boyfriend and Maya stating Maya was going to stay at home that night, spend time with the kid, and have some wine after son went to sleep. She wanted a Me Day." My voice was chirpy. 

"I got McCain's private number that nobody had. We can trace it now."

"Case almost closed," I commented. 

"Finally!" Nash was overjoyed.

We were writing the consolidated emails, sending in requests when someone knocked on the office door. It was a junior officer with a box in his hand.

"What is it?" I asked, pausing my typing to look at him curiously.

"It's a parcel addressed to you, Miss Lewis," the guy said with trepidation. I looked at the box in his hand in confusion. 

"Did you order something and have it delivered here?" Nash asked. 

"No. I address my stuff to my apartment. They leave it with the security or under my post-box."

I left my seat and went over to the guy. My senses tingled when I saw the pretty bow at the top and my full name written in a classic cursive.

It looked like calligraphy.

Something in me moved. "Can you place it on my desk?" I asked in a low and measured voice. 

"Miss Lewis?" he responded, bewildered. 

"Please" I urged. The guy walked over to my desk and placed it down. I took in a deep breath and pulled a pair of gloves out from the drawer. 

As I put them on, Nash walked over to me.

"What are you expecting?" he asked cautiously. He waited as I pushed the lid off. The young officer gasped and backed away. 

"Uh you'll need to submit your fingerprints," I told him with a small, apologetic smile. "We don't know if this is a dummy or even real blood, but we'll need to run some tests," I told the officer. 

"We didn't give out the details about Maya's murder, did we?" Nash asked, confused. "How did they know which knife was used? The same style, too."

I inspected the handle. Indeed, it was from the same set that Maya had in her kitchen, now if it was the murder weapon, that was left to be known. The knife was nestled amongst pink silk material like an exhibit and a small note was tucked on the side.

I flipped it around and saw the same handwriting. 

Calligraphic. Nothing to show who the writer was. They probably used a fountain pen to write it.

"To Evie Marie Lewis. You can thank me when we meet in person. Say hi to Dr. Butler from me," I read out. "No indication as to who wrote it." I put the letter back into the box and closed it.

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