Dark Absentia: Blood Infernal Chapter Eight

Detective Tate pulled up a block from our next stop. Tate picked me up straight after driving all the way from upstate. Captain Cook notified me that an unusual call required our attention. He didn't elaborate further, which is highly odd. Kremer was a rules fanatic. A far cry from his days in the CIA. That's what he tells me, that is. I understood why he was brief with the explanation. We hadn't been called in. Not officially, that is. Down the dark street lies a Church. The night sky was filled with the lights of every emergency service. I chugged the energy drink down like it was a can of beer. My third since Tate picked me up. A frown appeared on my partner's face as she sighed, shaking her head. She gave me a sideways glance. I straightened my yellow tie and exited the vehicle.

Before I could take another step, Tate walked up to me and proceeded to fix the poor job I did with my tie. The smell of her perfume eased the built-up tension I was holding in. Hannah's cleavage was displayed, and I could see the blue lace bra peeking from beneath her blouse. As she fixes my tie, I feel an illicit urge building. Seeing her ample bust triggered a primal response in my other brain. This wasn't the time for this, but I couldn't take my eyes off Hannah's plump melons. When she finished, I snapped myself out of my trance. I give her a confident smile, and we walk to the Church. Hannah walks ahead of me, and once again, I get drawn in by her swaying hips and ripe bottom.

A quick flash of our badges got us in with no issues. The old Church was one of many that make up the city of New York. A crowd was gathering outside the yellow taped line. A half dozen firefighters exited as we entered. I got a whiff of an out-of-place comment. Something about the Father's death being impossible. Tate flags down an officer to ask what's the deal.

"Where's the body?" Detective Tate questioned.

"There isn't a body… I don't know what we got back there, but it isn't normal," the officer said.

Tate looks at me, and we begin to walk in the direction indicated by the patrolmen. The smell of burnt wood and something eerily familiar. You know, the smell of charred flesh. It's something you truly never get accustomed to. A Detective I recognized stumbled out of the room. Shortly after, his partner nearly fell to his knees. The Fire Marshall leaned against the opposite wall with his hands over his face. They looked like they'd seen the worst thing in their lives. I pause by the door, hesitant to go in. Tate tried to get information out of the three men. I knew that wasn't going to work. I'd seen that look before, back during the campaigns.

'One foot at a time…,' I entered the room. My stomach twisted and turned at the sight in front of me. Like Parker's attic, every inch of the space was burnt to a char. The only difference is the steaming pile of flesh that sat at what used to be a chair behind a desk. Blood and burnt ash mixed on the floor around him. It still shimmered like a pot of stew was ready to be served. The medium-rare state of the man's body was impossible. The gold cross around his neck, metal on his chest. A rosary still wrapped around the man's hand. A closer look revealed it was in perfect condition.

From what I could tell, it was like the gold cross on his chest, and the rosary was the less burnt part of his body. As if it was protecting him from the intense heat. Considering everything except the body and chair were burnt to ashes. I hear Tate's stiletto heels impacting the charred floor before she places her hand on my shoulder. Her free hand was over her mouth. To cover the stench of the body smoking in front of us.

"The victim was Father Matthews. Witnesses said he went into his office after Wednesday evening mass to retrieve an item for a church member. Shortly after that, he let out a terrifying scream. Some church Deacons tried to get inside the room to aid the Father. Smoke was witnessed coming from under the door. Hannah explained that it wasn't until the firefighters arrived that they could break inside," Hannah explained.

"This isn't like the other cases. The Father's body…, it's almost like he was cooked for dinner," I stated.

"Look at the room; it's just like the Church upstate," Hannah whispered.

"Same as Parker Wells' home too. There's no connection with any other victims," I said.

"Maybe the coroner can come up with something for us," Hannah said.

My phone buzzes off with Hannah's at the same time. There was no pause between us as we both answered. She gives me her concerned stare as she answers her own phone. The voice on the other end was another Detective in our unit. Detective Sal Jefferies.

"Detective Hunt, I got a lead for you. More like a potential suspect for those cases of you and Tate being working. The suspect isn't in our jurisdiction. You'll find the guy at the 120th lockup. Better hurry too; there's talk the Feds are planning to scoop him up in the morning," Detective Jefferies explained.

"I hear you, buddy. Thanks for the tip. Tate and I will head up there as soon as we can. Got a weird one here at the moment," I said.

"Hmph, I don't envy the cases that come your way for sure. Take it easy out there, you hear," Sal said.

I pocket my phone, jotting down the information Sal gave me. Hannah was chatting away on her phone when I noticed something sticking out a little from the body. I donned a pair of latex gloves, making sure to take a few pictures with my phone. The item looked like a photo. I noticed the crime scene unit had arrived. 'Just in time.' I wave for them to take a few pictures and stand back while they do their thing. A few minutes later, the officer was done with the item. The investigator hands me the old photo. My blood froze as I stared at the picture.

In the picture were Father Matthews and several other priests. He looked to be no older than twenty or twenty-five. The thing that turned my blood to ice was the man to the left of Father Matthews is, a man I knew well. A tall black-haired man named Aaden Oswald Hison, the Captain of unit four of the Blue Spectors. At least this man looked like him, right down to the scar under his left eye. The black and white photo didn't do nothing to hide his deep and sharp blue. I knew this because I looked into the man's eyes daily during my service. The problem with this photo is that if what I saw was real, Captain Hison was well into a hundred. That last time I saw him, he didn't look a day older than he looked in this photo. It was impossible, an unreal probability that he was indeed Aaden Hison. 'How could this be possible? Am I mistaken, and is this merely an incident of a look-alike? My gut told me I wasn't mistaken.' As my mind wraps around this revelation. Hannah ends her call.

"That was Sheriff Waters giving me an update on the survivors. He's put them up in a local hotel with round-the-clock patrols. They still haven't said much about the events at the Church. He's said he'll let us know the moment that changes," Hannah explained.

"I got a tip from Sal. Looks like we're headed to the 120th in Staten Island," I said, handing the photo to the investigator. I made sure to ask for copies, and I took a picture with my phone.

Hannah raised her eyebrow at my action. The wheels of her mind were wondering what I was holding back. I knew I couldn't keep the photo we found of my unit from her for much longer. She'd get it out of me or Cook soon enough. I chastised myself for not telling Tate, but it wasn't a good time. Her foot tapped the charred floor slightly with her fancy black heels. The detective had her arms crossed while in thought, perking up her heavy bosom. It was clear she was irritated. I try to ignore her for now. She'd refrain from probing further until I was ready. From here, we wrapped up our involvement at the scene. It wasn't our case at the moment. That could change shortly. The two Detectives in charge had composed themselves. No matter how seasoned a person is, there's always a case that can break your composure.