Complicated

Chapter Thirty Six: Uncertainty Rules

You can't touch me now there's no feeling left

If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath
What you did to me boy I can't forget
If you think I'm coming back don't hold your breath

Nicole Scherzinger – Don't Hold Your Breath

The crime scene in the Hotel Tribeca was one of the worst that Grace had ever attended, second only to the Shane Case murders. It was a struggle to take in the extent of the horror all at once as she hesitated in the doorway surveying the scene. It was a massacre, four young adults, two boys and two women were lying in pools of their own congealing blood. There were hack marks in each of their victims, slices from what she assumed was the missing fire axe from further down the hallway. They were all lying in different positions, Grace stepped over the dark haired man lying face down on the beech laminate flooring closest to the door before setting down a yellow plastic number beside his body.

Copper twanged in her mouth as she took a step another step, the stench was in her nose already flooding her senses as she crouched beside a young girl on her side, arm twisted over her body in a protective stance. The woman had stood no chance against the power of the killer's swing, the axe had caught her in the back of the head splitting her skull wide open.

The art deco brown and duck egg coloured rug in the centre of the room squelched underfoot as she tread lightly across it, flecks of red were already staining her baby blue booties as she heard Danny's intake of breath behind her. She ignored it. He had allowed her on numerous occasions to make the same concession. The two of them were professionals but sometimes Grace had to admit there was a scene that caught you completely off guard.

The second male and also the third victim was laying on his back, his skin was a waxy shade of white, his lips apart as if the last words he meant to utter were caught somewhere in the brief space between life and death. She could see the muscle transcended in his chest through the frayed edges of his grey T-shirt. He had been one of the last to die.

The final victim was also lying on her back. Her glassy dark eyes were staring vacantly at the ceiling, a trickle of blood was leaking from her lips tracing a pathway down her cheek before soaking into the carpet underneath. She had been cut down across the stomach, her intestines were exposed and lacerated making Grace's stomach churn at the knowledge that her death had been slower, more antagonized than all of the others.

Her attention came to focus on the blood spatter from the massacre as Danny unpacked the camera they used to record their crime scenes. It was everywhere, arterial spray was splashed across the beige walls as if it were nothing more than crimson paint. It was hard to tell what blood belonged to who and she knew on her crime scene sketch that she would have to take note of every single blitz of body fluid that massed the area.

Allegedly they already had the perp in custody. James Roberts had been tasered by the unis after he was caught running down the main street, covered head to toe in smears of blood, swinging a fire axe at oncoming traffic. He hadn't obeyed their order to stop and had been suitably subdued. She'd heard that they'd had to transport the perp in a body bag in order to preserve the evidence. Grace shuddered at that thought.

Grace rose her head, tilting it towards the ceiling as her eyes focused on the cast off pattern flickered across the white ceiling. There was a lot of rage in this killing, to take down four people with a fire axe with this much ferocity was the work of a seriously sick mind.

"Hard to believe one fucked up kid did all this." she murmured to Danny as he came to stand beside her angling the camera in his hands to take a picture of the pattern.

"Fucked up kid with a fire axe." Danny corrected, lowering the camera before taking the yellow markers out of her hands and setting one down next to their third victim.