A POUND OF FLESH

Perfect (1)

PERFECT

26

Emma sits in quiet anticipation as she waits for Ron to speak. The glazed over look has not left his eyes since he slammed on the brakes fifteen minutes prior. A mixture of emotions transform the typically resolute features of his face. What settles, Emma deducts to be anger. His forehead is creased bringing his eyebrows closer to his strong brown eyes that stare straight ahead. She can hear the slight grinding of teeth as he clenches his jaw. The tension vibrates off of him and fills the small enclosure of the vehicle, pulling away Emma's calmness with it.

The car is filled with so much negativity by the time Ron finally speaks, the words come out quiet and somber, "It's one of us."

While Ron seems stunned by the revelation, it was something that Emma had been mulling over in the back of her mind.

"I mean - I am not surprised..." he lets out a long sigh and the words linger.

"It was always something that I kind of felt - just not at that level." Ron sensed what Emma had been thinking. They were the only syllables that he could string together before returning to silence.

"Who is it?" Emma let her mind go back to all the faces of those she has met in regards to the case.

There are the detectives from the other precincts: Phil, Mick, and Todd - all relatively minor players.

Laurie, the tech supervisor and then the various medical examiners, who possessed the skill but lacked the agility, or so Emma thought.

She struggles to think of the various names of everyone that sat around the meeting table and given orders.

Ron does not even appear to hear the question. He is thinking back to the bead of moisture glistening on the manicured lawns illuminated by the artificial lighting their presence had created. The blinds in the houses that lined the street closed tight. A few neighbors milling about their driveways in morbid curiosity. The collection of officers pushing the media line back out of suburbia.

They had spoken for less than fifteen minutes, and nothing more than a nod of the head at the meetings in Toronto.

He thinks back to the exceptionally clean and delicate hand he had shaken. Soft and warm in comparison to the callous' that covered the meaty rises of his own palms. Ron had laughed about it afterwards.

Ron did not laugh now.

A/N: Was this little twist a surprise or not? Don't forget to vote if you are enjoying this story!