20- Return to the Downs.

Mazurka followed Harlow to the evidence examination room, where he watched his partner turn on the light-table, which was about the size of a six-person dinner table, before starting to lay out the photos in sequential order. Thirteen seconds of footage, thirty pictures per second, twenty-seven 8X10 pictures at a time. They meticulously examined each frame, going over even the subtlest of changes, making notes and marking the photos as needed.

They were on the eighth round of pictures when the mysterious figure appeared for the first time in the photos. Even frame by frame, it appeared to glide from the shadows. Clearing the table of any pictures before that moment, Harlowe moved it into the first position and covered the table with the following twenty-six photos.

"Any movement, any movement at all between frames might tell us what's happening here," Harlow said as the examination began once again.

Working together, overlapping pictures, Mazurka finally found what they had been looking for.

"It's faint, but over the course of these three frames, watch the form of the person. It's as if he's moving his arm, maybe," he grimaced as he set them down and cracked his neck out of frustration. "This video quality is just crap. It's impossible to make out any of the details!"

"You need a break," Harlow said as he gathered the three pictures and handed them to Mazurka. "Have Skye analyze these frames. Maybe her miracle computer can tell us more than our eyes. Then go and get something to eat. We've been at this most of the day and didn't you want to head to the Downs still?"

"Yeah. I should get headed that way soon. I was hoping to have a photo of the suspect to take with me, but a shadow isn't exactly identifiable."

"No, but if your witness can tell us who that vagrant is, it might still be worth the trip."

"I agree," he replied as he took the pictures in hand, the glossy surface squeaking under the weight of his fingers. "I'll give you a call if I find anything out that's worth a damn."

"And I'll be here still going over the rest of these," Harlowe said as Mazurka left the room.

After dropping the photos off with Skye and relaying Harlowe's request, Mazurka left the precinct. It was getting close to five by the time he was on the road, making his way to Liebman's Convenience, stopping along the way to pick up the fifth cup of coffee of the day before arriving.

Parking street side, in front of the store, it was quieter than the previous day. With all the excitement of the cops and news vans now gone, the Down's main street had returned to its desolate nature. It was a harsh contrast to the Freetier's main street that even at this hour would be packed with people going about their lives.

Making his way into the store, Mazurka was greeted as he arrived at the counter by the elderly owner, Garren Liebman.

"Well, well, if the Detective doesn't return to the scene of the crime," he huffed, adjusting himself against the counter with an air of pride, "Are you here to remove that garish yellow tape or will I have to direct my deliveries to the front door?"

"I apologize for the continued inconvenience, but given the severity of the crime surly you can understand why it's still cordoned off?"

"I'd be more understanding if there were police present, but aside from the barely increased number of the normal patrols, the area has already been abandoned of your presence. The yellow tape is barely a half measure against the curious, and a draw for the unwise. The Down's wants justice for our lost boys. Their deaths shouldn't be treated with half measures simply because the paths they walked or where they were raised. There was a time, not too long ago when Rosemont was equal to Clairemont Heights in prestige. I bet the police are making certain the crime scenes in those areas are guarded day and night from intruders and onlookers. But this is just the Down's to your ilk and those were better days. Clearly you aren't here to peruse my wares or satisfy an old man's desire to be free of yellow tape so I can go back to using the entrance to my home and driveway. So, why have you come?"

"I came to speak to Quayleigh Vershinin again. I had some follow-up questions for her."

"She isn't in tonight. Her next shift starts tomorrow at three in the afternoon. You can speak to her then as long as you don't disrupt our patrons," Garren replied with a stalwart drop of his shoulders.

"Do you know where I might find her now?" Mazurka shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Garren's sharp glare.

"You should have called instead of wasting a trip down here. What benefit do you hope to gain out of badgering my girl? Did she not already tell you everything she knew?"

"No, that's not it at all. I'm not trying to badger anyone Mr. Liebman. As I said, I simply had a few more questions for her about the victims."

Garren sniveled as he tore off a piece of receipt paper and wrote down Quayleigh's phone number. Sliding the paper across the counter towards Mazurka, he continued to hold it in place. "That girl is a daughter to me, Detective. If I find out that you harassed her over anything not pertaining to this case, I will fight to have you stripped of your badge. Find this killer, and don't drag her through another shitstorm to see it done. Do I make myself clear?"

"Mr. Liebman, I understand your concern for her, but I want you to know, I've kept her practices to myself. I deal specifically in homicide and have no interest in enforcing magic laws. Especially not on someone who clearly isn't an actual practitioner," Mazurka replied as he lowered his eyes. "As for dragging her any further into this case, I really hope it doesn't come to that. It seems to me that she's been through enough already."

"If you're basing that off of her scar alone, you don't know even half of what she's been through," Garren replied as he lifted his hand from the paper and returned to his proud stance.

"I read the file on what happened; about how she got the scar on her face. That's why I understand why you are being protective of her."

"Then you understand next to nothing, Detective. Now go. I've no more time to waste on you today. I'll have customers to attend to soon enough. I need to go and check the shelves before they arrive."

Garren's words were harsh, and a clear sorrow lingered in Garren's eyes behind the thick rimmed glasses that clung to the bridge of his nose as he looked passed Mazurka at the empty legacy that was his dying store.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Liebman." Mazurka took the slip of paper from the counter and bowed his head, respectful of the old man's position, taking not the harshness of his words nor the accusatory tone of his comments to heart.

Garren Liebman was a man clinging to hope, trying to protect what little he still had in a suffering community that couldn't even afford to post a cop at a non-active crime scene. To Garren, this was a tragedy of circumstance and lack of the privilege horded by the rich. To Yechiel, it was a problem for politicians to solve, while he focused on the never-ending stream of crimes that continued to plague Turnage City; this serial killer and his mysterious ways being only the recent and worst to date.

Making his way back out to his car, Mazurka pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the paper, hoping Quayleigh would pick up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello?" Quayleigh answered the phone as she slid her arm out from under Tau's neck watching to make sure that he was still fast asleep.

"Quayleigh?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"It's Detective Mazurka. Do you have a minute?"

"I suppose. What can I do for you?" she replied as she carefully shifted off of the bed and onto the couch doing her best to keep her voice low.

"I was hoping that you would be willing to meet with me. I have a few more questions for you regarding the victims from the alleyway. Would now be a good time?"

Quayleigh thought for a moment and decided that delaying might only make the situation worse in the long run.

"Yeah, now's fine. Where are you at?"

"In front of Liebman's."

"Ok. If you head back towards the city, turn left on Austin Street, I live in the yellow brick apartment building a few blocks up. You can't miss it. When you pull in the parking lot, drive straight back and to the right, park in spot 306. It's along the fence. I'll be waiting for you at the picnic table," she said as she stared at Tau's back.

"Got it. See you in a few minutes," he replied before hanging up the phone.

"Yeah, see you soon," she said as she hung up her phone even though she knew he was already gone.

With a sigh, she stood up and dressed. Going into the kitchen she grabbed a pen and on the back of an envelope she wrote out a quick note, 'Tau, I'm just outside with the Detective. He called while you were sleeping. If you wake up and are reading this, put on your cloths, and go out on the patio. You should wave and act friendly. Then hide this note, if he comes in and sees it, that would be bad.' Setting the note onto the coffee table, she went and used the bathroom, and then hid the vial with the black concoction, and lubricant in her nightstand, before taking the glass of water with the brush and putting it into her sink. Lastly, she grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge and her keys, before slipping on her sandals and heading outside.

Regardless of what the detective actually wanted, Quayleigh knew that the moment he spotted the expensive car in the visitor's spot, he would know that Dylan was nearby, and lying about it would be foolish. She also knew that although Tau was responsible for the deaths of the people the detective was investigating, that was a truth she would have to take to her grave, because ultimately, Tau wasn't human, and subjecting him to human laws seemed absurd, and dangerous. On the other hand, if by some miracle she figured out how to free Tau and Dylan returned to his body, it wouldn't be fair to punish him for something he was completely innocent of. This left her in a difficult position, but as she sat down at the picnic table and waited for the detective to arrive, she knew that she would do everything she could to protect Tauluthet.