So, TSF is off the ground unofficially. This is an intro to the rest of the team. Actually, Jeb started as a throwaway joke and i grew attached to the character, wrote a reason for him to stick around, and then had to remove the joke.
TSF Chapter one can be found here.
and chapter 2 can be found here.
Anthony had never liked the autopsy room at his local precinct back when he was on the force in DC, but this one made him nauseous.
Sitting on the cold, steel slabs in the room were two bodies. One was an older man, possibly in his early fifties, with a gunshot to the chest. The other body was one of the unfortunate women. The eyelids had been cut open, and a small container sat next to the head, with a number of sutures resting in it.
Anthony approached the young woman’s body and stifled a gasp. The back of her hands were pock-marked with small round burns, most likely from a cigarette.
“Ah good, you’re here,” A man walked in behind Anthony, causing him to jump. “My name is Doctor Jebediah Sanders. You can call me Jeb. You must be Anthony.” He extended his hand, and Anthony clasped it firmly.
Looking over Jeb, Anthony guessed he was in his mid forties. In stark contrast to his own unblemished ebon skin, Jeb was white as a sheet, with a smattering of light brown freckles on his cheeks. What little hair he had on his head was red, forming a horseshoe open above his blue eyes.
“Ok Jeb, what can you tell me about her?” Anthony pointed to the poor woman who rested in front of him.
“Her name was Carly Tanner. She has traces of Mivacurium in her system. If you look at her face, you can see a couple of things.” He held open Miss Tanner’s mouth, and peering in to it, Tony saw the sickening stump that had been a tongue. Speechless, he nodded at Jeb, who closed Carly’s mouth. “If you look at the welts on the sides of her face, you can see that, the bastard, excuse me, the killer, slapped her around in addition to all of the other torture he inflicted. Her eyes have been sewn shut with a very careful hand, as there does not appear to be any trauma to the eyeballs.” He slammed his right fist down on the metal table, causing the pen on a nearby clipboard to jump and roll onto the floor.
“It’s OK Jeb, there’s nothing you can do about it now. I’m going to catch this sick fuck.” Anthony’s voice was soft and reassuring, the same voice he had used with the girl’s parents. The same voice he had spent the entire flight reassuring himself with.
“But she was my niece. She was supposed to come and visit next weekend.”
Anthony turned and saw the frustration visible in Jeb’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Anthony, I want this bastard.”
“So do I. What about the other girls, anything different?”
“The girl Vivian was a little more banged up, but other than that, no. This guy is careful. I heard from upstairs that this is the third time the bastard has done this.”
“Yeah, three victims each time. It will be a year tomorrow since his last attack though. Say Jeb, if I have the other autopsy reports sent over, would you mind looking over them? See if there are any inconsistencies?”
Jeb jumped at the opportunity. “Yeah, anything I can do to help.”
“Good, let me get upstairs and I’ll make that call. Say, who should I go talk to next?”
“Well, if you haven’t spoken with Grace, she was lead investigator at the scene, but I think she’s on another call out. You may want to go try Taylor up in the forensics lab.”
Tony took the elevator from the basement to the second floor, where the forensics lab was. Getting off of the elevator, he hung a left, and after showing his badge once, and his visitors pass twice, finally made it into the forensics lab.
“Jeb just called and said you were on the way up. My name is Taylor, Taylor Smith.” He held out a white gloved hand, and then looked at it, thinking twice about it. He withdrew his hand sheepishly.
“How are you Taylor? I’m Anthony Jackson. You can call me Tony, hell, you can call me whatever you want if you have something good for me.”
This brought a smile to Taylor’s face. He turned his back momentarily to Tony, and turning back around, held a print of a tire track. “We found this at the scene. They match a Michelin Latitude Tour model, and they look brand new. We’re looking through all of the local dealers trying to find where they were purchased.”
“Ah, great timing.” A tall brunette walked in, her eyes sweeping over the entire room. “Agent Jackson, my name is Grace Baker. Looks like we have a hit Taylor.”
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