A POUND OF FLESH

It Clicks - part 1

9

IT CLICKS

Emma loved her job, nothing made her feel more grounded. The structure and routine had a means of calming her jitters in a way that caffeine never could. Thriving on the stability of the job - she could count on going into work and doing the same steps every day - and she loved it. Emma had a plan - education, career, pay off her debt, before she would entertain the thought of settling down. She could not see it any other way as she bagged evidence, snapped pictures and ran tests.

She losses herself in the continuous clicking noise and Ethan's monotonous chatter, as she sweeps the scene in a circular pattern, from the outside in. His voice droned on, buzzing with nervous energy. When he had started talking to her about his girlfriend, she had tuned him out. A running narrative started to feel as if it was part of his process. Emma takes the background noise and uses it to focus on the details of the scene she is capturing. Two wine glasses sit on the mid wall separating the kitchen from the living area. One had stood empty with nothing other than a red ring staining the bottom, the other barely touched.

"Are you even listening to me?!?!"

Emma's cheeks feel hot as Ethan's raised voice breaks through her thoughts. With an apologetic look, Emma wonders what about this particular domestic case they were working had Ethan bubbling with excitement.

Quickly forgetting his anger, Ethan spilled his guts, "Have you heard the rumblings, that case I told you about a few weeks ago, the original detective, what's his name - he has decided to run point - we have a serial on our hands!"

"Ron." She keeps her answer short and concise, trying to hide the fact that her curiosity is peaked. "Besides it's already processed" Emma dismisses Ethan with a wave of her hand and goes back to photographing.

"Yeah, that guy - the one who always reams me out for talking too much." Ethan continues on his banter and Emma thinks better of telling him to take the hint.

***

By the time Emma left work her head was swimming. Ethan had spent the better part of the afternoon rambling off various rumors and theories to Emma. For all of his quirks, Emma was thankful his talk was just that - talk. His imagination was wild and fluttered on the realm of fantasy, but he was nothing but a professional and it never affected the quality of his work. He processed the evidence, and Emma hated to admit that he was as meticulous and thorough as she was.

After she finishes up logging what she had collected at the scene from earlier, she opts to skip her daily Pilates class and hurries home.

Emma had tried her best to push that case out of her mind, however with Ethan bringing it up today, she decides it must be a sign.

She enters her dimly lit studio apartment kicking off her brown leather shoes she makes her way around her place turning on the lights before heading to her bedroom to change. She emerges a few minutes later in Lycra black yoga pants and a cowled neck plain grey cotton shirt, and plugs in the kettle to boil some water. As it percolates, she heads straight to the kitchen table. Living alone, she eats most of her meals on the couch in front of the television, leaving her table as more of a decorative piece. Currently it had a purpose as the storer of her little investigation.

To an outside observer it would appear to be a mess of papers, sticky notes, and photographs - to Emma there was a perfect order; a logic to the chaos.

She plops herself down in the chair at the head of the table and slowly blows on the mug of Ra-man noodles she just made herself. She focuses her eyes on her dinner, letting her mind wander and reconnect to the cases.

It had been nearly a week since the make shift work space had been created and she had been stumped. She had done her best to ignore the mess of paperwork since then, however there was that nagging feeling at the back of her mind. There was something she was missing and it was consuming all of her energy. Now she saw the fact that she had not put it away fate, giving her more determination.

Emma pooled all her resources and called on a few close friends to help her gather the missing pieces of evidence that she didn't have access to - it was surprisingly easy, a few phone calls, and favors cashed in and some to be collected - she had everything that the detectives had. It made her feel slightly uneasy. Emma had never done this before and was uncomfortable with how little effort it took. This could become a slippery slope.

She pushes the negative thoughts from her mind, if she could figure out that missing link, maybe it would even catch the killer.

The cases felt like crimes of passion, however there was little that these victims had in common. It did not appear that they knew each other nor was there anyone who wanted them dead. If it was not for the brutality and display, there would be no reason to assume that they were related. What was the connection?

She picks up the case notes and scans through them again. They were lean regardless of the details from the interviews and medical examiner. The various interviews provided background and context for the victims, however they only ruled people out rather than open any new doors.

The evidence itself felt just as bleak, so Emma concentrated her focus on the medical reports and the various crime scene photographs.

She pulls a photograph giving the best vantage of Martha's scene, with her front and center. Looking through the stack of pictures, she finds the best angle of Polly's scene as well. Emma lays both black and white images respectively over their reports and takes it all in.

She stares at them until her eyes burn and pain from fatigue. Why did she keep have that nagging feeling that she had seen these pictures before?

A/N: After editting this chapter, I decided to split it into 2 digestible chunks. I added some more information regarding Emma's look into the case and changed some details in the beginning.

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