The Pursuit

The Pursuit

By: Larry Lesperance

Blood sparkles down from the bullet hole in her scalp, the red liquid stains her pure glass face that had always lit up when she saw me, as waves in the water does when the sun's rays strike them in a certain way.

I can feel a person approach me from behind, but I will not give them the privilege of seeing me turn without their words, such hate within me... something a man like I have never felt... yet it is there, and it feels like it is there to stay.

"Mr. Thomas?" The person said behind me, it was a rough voice, an investigator I thought, no man was this cold without seeing the horrors these brave people have seen.

"Yes?" My answer was low, and I had still not turned around, I would not show my sparkling, tear filled eyes to no stone-faced cop.

"Would you come with me please?"

"Why?"

"Just come," His voice raised a little, he was not used to someone questioning his judgement, certainly an investigator.

I followed him to the police cruiser, and he opened the door, he tried to smile and the scar that crossed his lips quivered, but did not allow the lips to lift.

"What's this about?"

"I need a few questions answered," He insisted for me to enter, and I did.

The police department was filled with cops that made the investigator , who I had learned was called Inspector Ryder look like Santa Claus, they were all stiff-necked, cigar-smoking tough guys, I passed one who took a long draw from his cigar and i commented, "Those will kill you y'know."

The cop grumbled back, "But in conclusion, we all die anyways..."

"Too true," I looked away, he had painted the picture of my love, Clair, she had always been a health freak, veggies as a dessert, a brisk jog through the park every morning, and that is what killed her. I almost punched the cop, he had put things into perspective in ways he could not even imagine, had she not taken her daily jogs she would not be laying in a pool of blood now, she would be home with me...

No, that's not true, we met when she was jogging... but she had called it fate, so we would have met another way, surely we would have, or fate means nothing to me... does it for anyone anymore? , you do not die by accident anymore, there may be a shooting or a terrorist attack, no fate there. Hell the only thing fate does is give us something to put the blame on. The interrogation room was pretty dull, a mirror on one side which is entirely pointless considering all the cop shows tell us that there is someone on the other side, and four white walls, that's about it besides the table and three chairs. One for the guy who's guilty until proven innocent, one for the good cop and one for the bad, it is always the same.

"Mr, Thomas? I am inspector..."

"Ryder," I finished his sentence, he seemed surprised that I would interrupt him in such a way.

"James Ryder," He said, "Now, where were you last night Mr. Thomas?"

I coughed loudly, cigar smoke clouded through the room from Ryder's partner, who was already sitting, his eyes were peircing thruogh me like you could'nt imagine, "The library."

The cigar-smoking cop coughed and let out, a smoker's laugh.

"The library Mr. Thomas?"

"Yes Inspector the library, surely that's still legal?" I snapped back, I knew I had changed completely, once being a happy man who could not stop smiling, now I sit here in an interrogation room with two idiots questioning me. "What were you doing at the library?"

"Reading, not much else to do there..."

"Is there anyone that could confirm that you were actually there?" The smoking cop asked, the first words he had said yet.

"How many people do you think go to a library on a Saturday night?" I grunted.

"I believe we asked a question first Mr. Thomas," Ryder was getting on my nerves, "I want an answer, not a question."

"You mean this isn't Jepardy? Damn, must be down the hall, later guys," I stood up but was met by the smoking cop's harsh words. "Sit down Thomas."

I sat and looked at each cop one after another, and finally Ryder spoke, "Mr. Thomas, you can leave, but do not leave the city." My black trench coat whirled behind me as I walked out onto the Ottawa streets, damn cold as usual for an October; kids were going trick-or-treating as Eskimos these days. The only thing that can make this day any colder is losing a loved one, I thought and a brush of brisk breeze hit me in the face, freezing my breath before me.

I arrived home at my apartment, it was small, but as Clair had always called it, cozy. I sat down and heard sirens outside, it seemed like everything had happened at once, officers ran in and kicked down the door across the hall and paramedics rushed in, God, not Molly! My mind raced, Molly had been the one who donated a hundred dollars a month to salvation army, she would bake cookies and donate them to homeless shelters. She had saved me from debt several times by taking out a loan and using to my benefit, I never thanked her properly.

The paramedics walked out, their heads hung down and I cursed, their stretcher was empty and a cop walked out barking over his walkie-talkie, "Get me the morgue down here."

"Molly!" I yelled and ran forward toward the apartment but was stopped immediately when someone grasped my arm.

"Mr. Thomas, funny we should meet again so soon," Ryder snickered, his vice grip like hands tightening on my shoulder.

"You are doing this case as well?" I asked, "You should be trying to find Claire's." I couldn't finish, it was too soon.

"I am, but I have reason to believe that we have a serial killer on our hands." Ryder leaned close to me, "You know both of the victims Thomas."

"Really? I had