ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴋɪɴɢ

Meeting the King - Harlow

One wrong move, wrong tone, wrong word and it's game over. The house looms over the scene carrying the same weight that's now on my shoulders.I walk and talk to my Lieutenant, "Give me the details." "Ryke Skinner," he points to the man screaming obscenities and pressing a gun to the hostages head, "just got out of jail off a 5 year sentence." "What was he charged with?" A bullet proof vest is placed onto me and I start to strap it in. "Possession of an illegal schedule I substance, cocaine." I nod and file that away for future reference. "What do we know about the hostage?" Lieutenant nods, "Eric Mullin," he flips through his folder, "background says that he was arrested for a DUI but that's about it. Ryke is telling everyone about how he framed him."Turning this over in my mind I ask, "Have you looked over the case?" "Yes. Mullin was the one who called the cops on Skinner, they were neighbors. Phone transcript says that Mullin saw some sketchy behavior and asked for someone to come by the house. Skinner's car was searched and 500 grams was found." "So Ryke wasn't actually seen with the drugs?" I ask. "No, but it was in his possession." "That could've been staged, maybe he's telling the truth." After everything's ready I hold up my hands and head towards the situation. I raise my voice, "Mr. Skinner?"He stops his screaming and turns his attention to me, "Who are you?" Making sure my badge is clear for him to see I call, "I'm special agent Harlow Solace, I'm with the FBI. I'm a profiler, can you tell me what's going on?" He pressed the gun harder against Mullins head, "A profiler? Well you should be profiling this motherfucker, he ruined my god damn life! So I'm repaying the favor by taking his." "Wait!" He pauses and stares at me, "I looked into your case, I understand completely why you feel this way. What he did to you was awful, you didn't deserve that." Something flashes across his eyes, but he immediately blinks it away. A snarl is placed firmly on his face, "Nobody believed me. He framed me! Put some fucking drugs in my car, all because I slept with his wife. One day I'm free, the next thing I know I'm in court for a five fucking year sentence. He ruined me!" Mr. Mullin whimpers from the grip on his hair, almost pulling it out. "I believe you Ryke. What that man," I point an accusatory finger at Mullin's, "did to you was horrible. He deserves the same pain you felt. Shooting him isn't going to cut it, you need to make him pay. He needs to feel ruined, broken, trapped, just like you did." My eyes flicker to where his grip loosens around the gun, I keep going. "If you pull that trigger, he will never feel that pain. He will get off too easy, death is too easy for him. If you kill him not only will you not get the justice you deserve, but you'll be back to square one. Back in that hell hole, back in that cell." Sweat trickles down the nape of my neck. I hold out my hand and gesture for him to give me the weapon, "Put the gun down Ryke, none of this is worth his life, or yours." I know the moment he surrenders even before he drops the gun, I quickly snatch it up off the ground. Both men drop to their knees and a swarm of cops come towards them. I keep panting, my heart's running a mile a minute, I turn and head towards my Lieutenant. I walk right past him. Once I'm far enough I double over and throw up. This never gets easier, bile rises again and I gratefully release it. Fuck, hostage situations are my least favorite thing about this job, that includes being shot at. At least when I'm being shot at the only life I have to worry about is my own. In these situations I have to bring someone back to sanity and keep them from taking another's life. I've failed before, I've seen how my words weren't enough and saw the consequences. I never want to witness it again, if I can stop it I will. ***"Solace," Hendrick's voice rings out from across the room, "My office." I quickly make my way over to where he sits, Hendrick's is not one to make wait. "Sit please." I do so, not knowing at all what this is about. I was just finishing up my report on the Skinner case, my heart rate has decreased since yesterday, but not my mind. Of course, that's still racing. Taking my anxiety meds and doing some breathing exercises my therapist recommended helped a bit though. Hendrick leans forward, elbows on his desk and fingers laced. The shitty fluorescent lights accentuate his silver hair and brown eyes. "I need you to check out a lead for me." His voice is rough, lack of sleep is my guess. "Of course sir," This is an unusual request, "Which case?" "A relatively newer one, about a month old." He shuffles around some papers, seems to realize he can't read them and puts on his glasses. With the lenses on the tip of his nose he seems to find what he's looking for and hands me a paper. "That's a phone transcript from a motel in Sturwa. Anonymous call, all the caller said was 'Third ones complete.' I need you and your team to check this out, I have a bad feeling about this one." "What gives you this bad feeling sir?" "You know the other two murders from this past month?" I nod. "I think they're connected." My brows furrow, "Why have me follow this lead then? I thought Jackson was on this case." A.K.A Agent Dickhead. Absolute piece of shit, misogynistic, whiny and egotistical. Only reason that little shits in the FBI is because he's got rich parents with enough money to buy a new earth. "The case is running colder each second he's on it. I'm hoping you will see something he missed." He lets out a slow breath, "There is a catch." Oh no. "You have to work with him, at least for a little while." Oh for fucks sake. "This is a big case Solace, I need my best people on it." His eyes level with mine, "You're the best damn profiler I know, we need you." Fuck, "Yes sir, I'll do my best." His eyes light up and relief flashes across his face. "Good luck Solace," My foots out the door when his voice pierces my angry thoughts, "Oh and Agent? Play nice." I smirk, no promises. ***"What the hell are you doing here?" A shrill, annoying voice whisper yells, "This is my case." Deep breaths Harlow, I do as I say, you can't punch the jackass. Turning I put on what I hope is a nice smile, "Hello Agent Jackson. The lieutenant sent me here, said all hands on deck." A grimace is displayed without remorse on that dumb-ass face of his, "Fine." He leans into my personal space. I am five seconds away from kicking him in the junk if he doesn't back the fuck up. "But don't mess anything up, this is my crime scene." I give him a tight nod and head through the front door. The motel is like every other, apart from the dead girl in the hallway. She's laying on her side, blood everywhere: on the walls, down her nightgown, and on the heart she holds loosely in her hand. I'm already wearing gloves so I take a peek down her nightgown. Bile rises up my throat, I swallow it down. The heart in her hand is definitely hers. Something on the wall behind her catches my attention. A crown drawn in, what I presume is her blood, faces me accusingly. The scene makes a chill run down my spine, memories I'd rather keep buried resurface: bodies, blood, lust. "So what are you thinking?" Agent wingnut says from behind me, his gaze is burning into the back of my head. Instead of answering him I get on my hands and knees and lean my face towards the heart. The crown on the wall, when looking at the right angle, lines up perfectly with the heart in our victim's hand. "Ruler of lives?" My voice is a whisper. "What the hell does that mean?" Sir Grumpy asks. "I have absolutely no idea." ***Standing in front of the crime board is more intimidating than the crime scene itself. With Agent Jerk-off and Lieutenant Hendrick's behind me, it makes it so much worse. "What are you thinking Solace?" Hendrick's voice calms me a bit. "They, the killer, wanted us to see their little puzzle." I point to the heart and the crown, "With these two symbols, it creates an image. The only way you can see it properly is by changing your view point." I stare at the three bodies; a woman on her side holding her own heart, a man with a butcher knife through his head upright and a similar circumstance for the other body but he's upside down. "So what? You think that this could be a puzzle too?" The Jackass scoffs, "Look I know you women love your mystery thrillers, or whatever, but this is the real world honey." Don't kill him, don't kill him. "How about we do some real investigating." I never said don't shoot him. Hendrick's beat me to the punch, or rather smack, to the back of the head to be exact. "Don't be sexist Jackson, or I'll have your ass suspended faster than you can say mommy help." While those two bicker I look back over to the photos. For some reason they look really familiar. Upside down, upright, crown, heart... Holy shit! I bolt right past the two macho men and head towards a co-worker of mine. "Ruby, do you still have those playing cards?" She hands them over. "Thanks love," I rush off and hear a faint, no problem from behind me. I spill all the cards on the table beside the board. Come on, come on, where is it? Ah ha! I hold up my prize and switch my gaze from the card to the images of the victims. Rearranging and bending the photos as I may I hear a snarky, "Hey! She can't do that!" Lieutenant shuts him up real quick. Once it's finished I stick the card next to it. After the photos are arranged they look exactly like the card. Two men, one upside down and one upright, both have swords in their heads, with a heart off to the side. "Holy shit." Hendrick's mutters my exact thoughts earlier. "I guess we know who are killer is." I huff out. Jackson gives me a dumbfounded look, "Who?" "The King of Heart of course." ***"Do we have information on any of the vics?" Jackson asks the only sensible thing to question. Ruby, our co-worker who does all the computer gadgets... important stuff, says "We've got something on our first guy." Ruby actually told the entire office once that our lack of understanding towards simple programming made her "inner child" cry, which is justified, half the people here (including myself) have no idea how to work those damn things. I've stopped trying. "His name is Michael John, it wasn't hard finding sources for him, he's apparently a big time lawyer in New York." A big picture of our dead guy is on her screen, including a very angry article about him. "He defends rapists, traffickers, abusers, all sorts of horrible people by the looks of it. He was known as 'Satan's right hand man,' according to the New York Times. He helped tons of bad people walk free." Ruby sneers, "Jeez. Not to be rude to the dead and all, but this guy seemed like a real sleaze ball. I think he got what was coming to him." The puzzles, the victims and the mixed emotions surrounding them. Fuck! My body stiffens and I take a shaky step backwards. My legs give out and fall, not so gently, into my chair. Oh god, my head hurts. "There'll be some new information to come up about the other two. With damning, evil, dark evidence too." Agent Asshole looks at me skeptically, "Oh yeah? And how do you know that?" I don't even flinch at his condescending tone, "He's copying another serial killer, a fairly recent one." Hendrick's steps in, "Which one Solace?" I look up at him, eyes telling him something my voice doesn't. His own widen and look as if I slapped him, "No." Mr. Jackass and Ruby question, "What? Who?" We both look over to them, "The Savior."