Ridiculous Theory

The hum of activity in the police station had a certain urgency this morning. Officers rushed down the narrow hallways, each with a file or a coffee in hand. The hum of conversations mixed with the clicking of keyboards, and the low buzz of radios created a steady, constant rhythm that echoed throughout the building.

Darren and Calloway moved through the chaos, but neither of them could ignore the heaviness in the air. The tension felt thicker today, heavier than usual—this wasn't just another run-of-the-mill meeting.

As they walked, Darren flicked a glance at Calloway, noticing the familiar lines of exhaustion under his eyes. The man hadn't gotten a full night's rest in ages, that was obvious. Calloway had been riding the storm of the recent murders, doing what he could to keep things together, but Darren could tell—it was starting to take a toll.

They reached the meeting room's door, only for Jay to rush past them. The young officer gave a small wave, not even slowing down.

"Meeting's started," Jay called over his shoulder. "Hurry up!"

Darren and Calloway exchanged a look.

"Let's get this over with." Calloway muttered under his breath.

They pushed the door open, stepping inside to find the room filled with officers, each sitting at a table, pens in hand, and their notepads open in front of them. The air was buzzing with quiet conversations, and the atmosphere was already serious—this wasn't a routine meeting.

At the front of the room, the captain stood at a podium, speaking to a room full of officers who were listening intently. The stage was set with a whiteboard, where holographic images flickered in and out, projecting crime scene photos, diagrams, and autopsy reports.

Captain John stood at the front, his presence commanding. He was in his late 40s, wearing a neatly pressed uniform, though the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. He looked like a man who had been running on empty for too long, his sharp jawline and hair neatly combed giving him the appearance of control, even though his eyes betrayed a different truth.

Darren and Calloway made their way toward an empty seat, near the back. They slid into the chairs, and Sophie, a young officer in her late twenties, turned to greet them. Sophie was always energetic, with long brown hair and a fresh-faced look that made her seem more like a college student than a police officer. Many in the department found her cute, though Darren had long learned to see past that.

"You're late," she teased, but her eyes were still on Captain John as he continued speaking.

"What did we miss?" Darren asked.

Sophie smiled wryly. "Not much, just the basics. Captain's still going over the facts."

Captain John's voice cut through the murmur of conversation as he pressed a button on the remote, changing the display behind him to an image of the dried corpse—the one that had been found just hours earlier

Captain John didn't waste any time, his voice sharp as it carried through the room. "As most of you know, the dried corpse case has been our top priority. It's an unprecedented case. We've never encountered anything quite like it before, and frankly, it's testing the limits of everything we know."

The room was silent, every officer hanging on his every word. Even the hum of the projector seemed to pause, the weight of the case palpable.

"The body was found in a state of extreme decomposition—yet we know he only died a few hours before being discovered." The captain pressed a button on the podium, and the holographic display switched to a photo of the victim's rotting remains, the skin drawn tight over the bones, as if the body had aged decades in a matter of hours.

"The victim is still unidentified. We have no match for his DNA, no records from dental, and no known connection to any missing persons." The captain's eyes flickered around the room, his voice unwavering. "We have nothing."

The officers exchanged glances, murmurs running through the room as they processed this. No DNA match? In the modern age? That was impossible. But Captain John wasn't done.

"There's more." He pressed another button, and a new image appeared—a close-up of the victim's back.

"This is where it gets stranger." The captain's voice dipped, and there was a momentary hesitation. "The victim's blood was entirely drained from his body. But there were no cut marks—nothing that would suggest how or why this happened."

A wave of disbelief swept through the room.

"There was, however, a single scar on his back," Captain John continued, "One that's at least fourteen years old. The victim's estimated time of death was about two hours ago, but..." He paused again, a slight shake of his head. "When we found the body, it looked as if it had been decaying for decades."

A thick silence descended. The officers didn't know how to react. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while others simply stared at the images on the hologram. This wasn't just another murder case. It was something beyond their expertise.

Calloway looked at the floor, running a hand through his hair. "This doesn't make any sense."

Darren's gaze flickered toward the front. The captain's expression was grim, but Darren could tell he was holding something back, a deeper underlying frustration that none of the officers in the room dared to voice.

The captain turned to the officers, his voice steely as he addressed them. "Any theories?"

A few officers hesitated, glancing at one another before raising their hands.

"Could he be an illegal immigrant? Someone we just don't have records for?" one suggested.

"Maybe he was kidnapped from another country," another chimed in. "Dragged here and dumped when they were done."

One officer, a tall man with glasses, added, "What if he's just... too clean? No criminal record, no fingerprints, no medical history. Could be someone who's been hiding in plain sight."

The captain nodded, absorbing their input. But he wasn't satisfied. There was still something off about all of this, something no one was willing to say yet.

"All plausible theories," he said, "but none of them explain what we're seeing here. We're missing a big piece of this puzzle."

The room remained in stunned silence, the weight of the facts hanging over everyone like a thick, suffocating fog. The officers sat in their seats, the flickering images of the crime scene on the whiteboard casting long shadows across the room. Each new detail added to the mystery, but it also deepened the confusion.

Captain John stood at the front, his gaze sweeping the room. He had asked for theories, but no one had been brave enough to speak up. Theories about an illegal immigrant, a kidnapping, or someone just too clean—they felt vague, almost like desperate guesses in the face of something far darker.

The captain, already exhausted from the weight of the case, let out a long breath, his voice taking on a tired edge. "None of this adds up."

As the captain's words hung in the air, Darren shifted in his seat. His mind was already racing—connecting the dots, trying to make sense of what they were dealing with. But everything felt so fragmented. So bizarre.

He looked at Calloway, who sat next to him, staring at the hologram of the victim's body. Calloway's jaw was clenched, his lips tight in frustration. Darren could tell he was struggling with this, too. This wasn't just a routine murder. It was something more—something that didn't fit any of their usual methods.

Darren's heart was pounding in his chest as he realized that he had something to say. He didn't know if it would help or just make things worse, but there was a burning need to speak up, to challenge everything they were being told. He could feel the weight of the room shift, every officer's eyes on him now.

He raised his hand.

A brief hush fell over the room.

Calloway glanced at him, clearly concerned, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"What are you doing?" Calloway whispered, leaning close to Darren's ear. "You sure you want to make a theory out of thin air? This isn't the time for a fame stunt."

Darren swallowed, the tension building in his chest. He felt the eyes of every officer in the room on him, but his mind was already made up. He couldn't just sit here and wait for someone else to solve this.

The captain nodded toward him. "Yes, Officer Pierce. Do you have a theory?"

Darren's heart raced. There was no turning back now. "I think the victim wasn't just drained of blood," Darren said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of urgency. "I think he was siphoned dry—like something took the life out of him, in a way we don't understand."

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what Darren was getting at. The room, already heavy with doubt, felt even heavier now, the air thick with expectation.

"What are you suggesting, officer?" Captain John asked, his tone stern but curious.

Darren didn't hesitate. "I think this murder isn't just about a lack of blood. It's something more unnatural. Like there's a force, a presence, that's capable of draining a body beyond normal human means. Maybe this has nothing to do with the victim at all. Maybe the focus is on what's doing this."

The room was dead silent. The other officers shifted, their eyes narrowed in skepticism. But Darren didn't care. This wasn't just about making a statement—it was about making the case make sense.

Calloway leaned over, his voice low and harsh. "What the hell, Darren? You're making wild guesses now? Are you serious?"

Darren clenched his jaw, determined to press on. "I don't know what's happening here, but I do know this isn't like any murder we've seen before. The body, the lack of blood, the rapid decay—it's too much for us to ignore. We're looking at something unnatural, and if we don't take that seriously, we're going to miss something important."

The captain, who had been staring at Darren intently, let the silence linger for a moment longer. He seemed to weigh the words in his mind, his gaze hardening, but there was something in his expression that suggested recognition.

"You're suggesting that this isn't just a murder case at all."

Darren nodded. "Exactly. I think this is bigger than we're giving it credit for. We're dealing with something that doesn't fit within the usual parameters of a case. The blood, the decay—it all points to something that goes beyond the normal scope."

Calloway opened his mouth to respond, but the captain raised his hand, silencing him.

"I understand your theory, Officer Pierce," the captain said, his voice calm but with an edge of doubt. "But we need evidence, not just speculation."

Darren nodded, his heart still pounding. He wasn't expecting the captain to agree immediately, but he had to speak out. "I understand, but we have to consider the possibility that we're missing something that could solve this case. The victim didn't just die—he was drained, like a husk. We need to look at what's doing this, and why."

The silence after Darren's theory felt heavy, like a thick fog that no one was willing to wade through. All eyes were on him, but the room's atmosphere was a blend of skepticism and unease. The officers shifted in their seats, some glancing at each other, others trying not to make eye contact. It was clear that Darren's theory had stirred the pot—the balance was about to tip.

The murmurs started. Quiet at first, like a ripple moving through the room.

"You can't be serious."

The words came from Officer Bennet, a tall, broad-shouldered officer in his late 30s with a permanent scowl. His thick brows furrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You really think this is some… some supernatural blood drain? What, a vampire's running around Blackridge?"

A few chuckles rang out across the room. "Yeah, right. Maybe we're dealing with Dracula," another officer chimed in, snickering.

Darren felt his stomach turn as the ridicule spread, but he didn't back down. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his composure as he saw more and more officers smirk, as if his concerns were a joke.

"You've gotta be kidding, right?" Bennet continued, his tone sharper now. "You think this is anything other than a botched autopsy, or some junkie who got themselves into a mess? Come on, man. Get real."

Darren's face flushed with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm, to not let them see him sweat. The officers' laughter was starting to feel like a mockery, but there was something about the way they dismissed his theory that made him feel like he was fighting an uphill battle.

The tension was palpable, the weight of their mockery now hanging over Darren like a dark cloud. But before he could respond, Captain John's voice cut through the growing hostility, his tone sharp but measured.

"Enough!" Captain John barked, his voice carrying through the room, silencing the laughter. "Let's keep it civil here."

The captain shot a hard glare at Bennet and the others who had been laughing, his eyes cold with authority. He took a step forward, standing tall at the front of the room. His eyes scanned the officers who were now uncomfortably quiet, waiting for him to speak.

"This isn't a time for jokes." Captain John's voice was stern, his gaze never leaving Bennet. "You all want to ridicule Officer Pierce's theory? Fine. But when you're done laughing, I want you to come up with something better. Because right now, the only thing we know for sure is that we have a body that doesn't make sense."

The room was silent, no one daring to speak. The tension hung thick, like a dam about to break. Captain John turned his attention back to Darren.

"Officer Pierce," he said, his voice softening just slightly but still firm, "I'm not dismissing what you've said. I'm not sure I agree with it either, but what you've raised isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. I'd rather entertain every possibility than ignore one simply because it's uncomfortable."

Darren's mind was still reeling from the ridicule, but Captain John's support, though small, was enough to steady him. He nodded, the heat in his chest slowly fading.

The captain glanced at the officers again. "So, let's think this through logically. We know there was no blood. We know that the body was decaying at an abnormal rate. We know that there are no clues pointing to a typical cause of death. And we know there's no identity. But what if there's something we're missing?"

A few officers shifted uncomfortably. The room was still tense, but there was a sense of reluctant acceptance now. Darren's theory, though radical, was forcing everyone to confront the truth—that this case wasn't just a murder. It wasn't a random act of violence. It was something out of the ordinary, and no one had the answers yet.

Bennet, still with his arms crossed, muttered under his breath, though he didn't look Darren in the eye. "If you say so, Captain."

Captain John didn't let it go. "If you don't have anything to add, Bennet, then I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. We're all here to find the truth. Every theory is worth considering."

Bennet shot him a glare but said nothing else. He was clearly resentful but realized that open defiance wasn't going to help him here.

There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. The officers were no longer snickering, and the previously skeptical voices had quieted down. For a moment, all eyes were on Captain John. He had commanded respect, and the officers were now reluctantly willing to follow his lead.

"Alright," the captain continued, "Let's return to the facts. We have a mystery on our hands, and the last thing we need is to act like this is just another case. No one here is going to make assumptions without evidence, but we cannot afford to rule anything out."

The officers nodded, the air in the room shifting from mockery to focus.

"From this moment on, I expect every officer here to approach this case with an open mind," Captain John said, his voice carrying the weight of his command. "We will not be swayed by speculation, but we will not turn away from the facts that don't make sense. We're investigating this as a priority."

Darren sat up a little straighter in his chair. "So, we continue?"

"Yes," Captain John confirmed, locking eyes with Darren, "We continue. And Officer Pierce, you've raised a valid point. We'll need all of you to start looking at this case from different angles. We need every possible lead. This is bigger than we thought."

The room had settled, but there was still a sense of unease hanging in the air. Theories would keep coming, some more outlandish than others, but one thing was clear—this case wasn't going to be solved easily, and the more they tried to piece it together, the more they would uncover.