Kill You Again

Chapter Seven

Ayesha drove like a maniac and reached the crime scene in record time. After Lockwood gave her the address, a street in the Kennington suburbs of Rosetown, he softly begged her to get there fast. He didn't want to be the one to examine the body, especially not in front of the many uniforms present. If he threw up in front of the other cops, Ayesha knew that he would be mocked for the rest of his career- she really didn't want him to go through that. Feeling sorry for Lockwood, and hoping that he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of the other cops before she got there, Ayesha broke almost every road law and drove all too dangerously to get there on time. Turning onto the road of the crime scene, she narrowly missed a stationary car parked on the pavement.

Ayesha braked with a screech, and hurriedly jumped out of the car, cursing under her breath about how her soft spot for that 'dork' was going to get her killed someday. When Lockwood spotted her, his eyes lit up and he almost ran towards her. The relief was clear on his face, and if Ayesha hadn't been glaring at him, he probably would have hugged her.

"You got here so fast. Barry Allen can kiss ass," he lowered his gaze and took in her outfit, "You're wearing jeans?" Lockwood looked positively scandalised.

"You're lucky Captain Fowler isn't here- you know how she hates casual on crime scenes. She'd tear you a new one," he laughed, and quickly quieted down when he noticed the look she was giving him.

Ayesha spoke in a low and dangerous tone, "I am wearing jeans," she hissed, "because I didn't have time to change. And, I didn't have time to change because an idiot made me rush to the crime scene to save his ass from public humiliation."

His eyes widened, and he stepped back from her. He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck, "Right, uhm, sorry."

He composed his face into a serious expression, and began reciting the details of the case in an unnaturally deep baritone, with a slight British accent. Ayesha made an exasperated noise and smacked the back of his head,

"Behave like a human being today, please, Lockwood."

"Ouch, that hurt!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head and sulking. But it did the trick, and they got to work.

"The victim is a white male, mid forties with brown hair and brown eyes. He was found in the Porter family's shed, but they claim that they don't know who he is and they didn't hear a thing. His name is Jeffry Stiles, we know because his wallet was still on him," he paused, and she looked at him expectantly, "I, uh, I don't know anything else. I didn't go in yet- I was waiting for you." His forlorn expression made her feel less annoyed with him, and she managed a smile at him.

"Let's split up, gang!" he grinned at her, "you go into the shed of doom, Ayesha, and I'll check around the shed and speak to humans in the vicinity, searching for clues."

She rolled her eyes at him and grabbed her gun and badge from her car before walking towards the crime scene. As she walked away, she heard Lockwood singing the Scooby Doo theme song, and laughed under her breath.

As she walked, she noticed Dr Triton, his white coveralls already slightly stained with blood, rummaging through his briefcase. Not pausing to speak to him, Ayesha flashed her badge at the uniforms around the scene and entered the stifling shed. Immediately, the smells hit her- the smell of blood, intestines, urine, faecal matter and decomposing flesh all blended together into one exquisite scent of death. When Ayesha finally managed to focus on something other than the smell, she looked around the small structure. Her first impression, upon seeing the walls painted red with blood, was that Lockwood was right- this is a shed of doom. The victim sat atop a lawnmower, his hands behind him, bound to a large generator that looked too heavy to move. His back was straight, resting against the lawnmower handles. The whole body was covered in blood and what could only be described as gore. Beneath all the blood, Ayesha could just make out the victim's dark hair. She held her breath and stepped closer to the body, thinking that Lockwood wouldn't have stood a chance in here. She bent down and examined the many wounds. The cut to the jugular was gaping, the edges of the cut being feasted on by flies. The victim's intestines lay in his lap and his right shoulder showed signs of heavy bruising. Seeing the familiar straight cuts on the arms and torso, Ayesha moved on to the victim's feet. On the floor lay a single eyeball and next to it, an elongated piece of flesh. Ayesha blanched-