Case Closed Fan Fiction ❯ Kore o kudasai ❯ ChV: As Nightmares Crystallize ( Chapter 5 )

A note from the author

 

Well I've changed my name, but I hope that doesn't through anyone off. For all those who have written or commented to me thus far, I would like to thank you ever so much for your encouragement, your impute, and your understanding. I would like to apologies for taking so long with the updates. The truth of the matter is that the story is pretty complicated, and I am trying to avoid plot holes and the like.

 

Any-who…lets get on with the show

 

Yours gratefully,

Gigi

 

PS. Unfortunately, my disability still impairs me from correcting and editing my own work. If there is a kind soul out there who has a love of editing, please give me hand, I think I would use it.

 

…o0:Chapter V:0o…

 

Conan grumbled to himself as he marched on through the streets, his hand shoved deep in his pockets. “Stupid fire trucks…” he continued, turning the corner and promptly kicked a crumpled soda can out of his way with a bit more face then he had intended. “I told them it would be a stupid cat.” Really those three would jump at anything that even remotely resembled a case. Not to say there over-enthusiasm hadn't paid off in the past, but he was exhausted and damn it, it was just one fire truck. Now if there had been police cars in toe, then they might have had a case.

Catching up with the soda can he had kicked only moments before he allowed himself the luxury of venting his frustration by giving the inanimate aluminum cylinder another good kick. The only reason the fire department had been called at all was because the dumb animal had managed to get stuck on a branch in paws reach of a major electric line for the entire street. His mistake upon seeing the scene was pointing it out. The moment he did Mitsuhiko began speculating as to what exactly might happen to a kitten if it were to try and reach the power line. This intern sent Ayumi into a hysterical fit of tears that had taken half the afternoon to subside. Geez…these kids could be a real pain. He had never been that unreasonable at that age, or at least he hoped not.

He decided the question was best left unanswered.

The worst part of coarse was that he was now almost three hours late to meet with Ran, and though he was sure she would have had the sense to go home without him, the fact that she wasn't answering her phone seemed to imply that he was going to be in for quite the lecture when he got home concerning the importance of keeping ones appointments.

Half a block later he was standing in front of the detective agency that he had come to call home well he remain trapped in his small form. Conan paused and looked up at the large letters imprinted on the window, another weary sigh escaping his lips. Well it was still early enough, with any luck he would have a chance to catch a quick nap before diner which would still leave him time to run over to Agasa's in order to finally pick up whatever new gadget it was that he had been pestering him to try for the past week. Honestly, the professor could be just as bad as the kids at times.

Wearily he forced himself to walk the flight of stares up to the agency and apartment he shared with the Mouri family. Half way up the flight of stares the boy paused, his brow furrowing slightly. A long dark mark ran across one step ending in a strange indent in the side of the wall. Stooping down Conan examined the mark, tracing it with one finger. It was a scuff mark of some kind, made by a boot or thick soled shoe, most likely a man's, size 10 to 12 shoe, 160-200 pounds. That hadn't been there this morning, had it? And even so, the angle…well to make that kind of a mark one would have too…

The boy shook his head and rolled his eyes at his own criminal obsession. Either he was severely in need of a good case or those kids were rubbing off on him. Making his way up the final few steps he opened the door and let himself in

“Ran-nee-chan, Uncle…I'm home” the boy called out a bit hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt incase a potential client had been meeting with the `great detective' Mouri. He was answered by silence.

With a frown the boy cheeked his watch as he closed the door behind him. He had expected the two of them to be home by now. Then again it was a Friday and that generally meant Mouri was out with his mahjong friends and Ran…

The boy looked about and spotted the girls high school pack sitting up against the wall and her shoes beside them. “Ran-nee-chan?” Tossing his own pack next to hers he looked about a bit confused. “Ran-nee…ah?”

A soft flimsy crunch brought his attention back down to the ground. Papers…hundreds of them covered the floor of the agency. The boy looked about for the source only to find the silver filing cabinet across the room, a large dent in one side and its contents apparently emptied out over the floor.

Conan furrowed his brow once more, approaching the filing case slowly. It was not the thought of a break in that immediately grabbed his attention, nor was it the manor and style of the event. Rather it was the cabinet or, more specifically, the dent in the silver metal that caught his eye. It was clear even from a distance that the lock on the file had been picked, the work had ether been done by an amateur, or someone wishing to be discovered. But that dent…it had bent in one end of the open file, but its corresponding angle on the door was undamaged, meaning that the dent had been inflicted after the safe had been opened. In addition for one to make a dent such as that not only would there be an extreme amount of force used but an extremely loud noise to follow. No potential thief trained or otherwise would ever think of making such a cacophony…

Before he knew what was happening Conan felt himself being lifted violently up by the back of his shirt. Surprised to say the least, he let out a yelp of protest, kicking wildly as he struggled with his unseen assailant.

“What the hell did you do!” came the booming voice of an infuriated detective Mouri as he pulled the boy up off the ground. “Put me down…I didn't do anything, Put me down…”

He felt himself unceremoniously dropped onto the couch. Folding his arms defiantly he pouted slightly as he watched Mouri begin scooping up handfuls of papers and arranging them into uneven piles on the desk, cursing all the while. No mater what happened it was always his fault, honestly he could be locking in a cage all day and still that man would find a way to…

The boy froze abruptly, a cold chill running down his spine. There on the desk, neatly piled in one corner could be seen a small stack of papers all of them seeming to correspond in color and size to those still about the room. Someone had started to pick up the mess, and they had stopped…no, they had been interrupted.

Suddenly all the strange little bits of information; the phone, the scuff on the stairs, the school bag and shoes, the dent in the filing cabinet, all came into sharp relief. Each observation taken in part was nothing more then an intangible fact, but together a very vivid image of events could be painted with really only one possible outcome that made all the facts valid.

Ripping the cell phone out of his pocket he pressed the redial and held the device to his ear. “Pick up, pick up, pick up…” he hissed as the dial tone continued to ring. At the first sign of the answering machine he flipped the phone closed. “Damn it” he spat leaping from the couch and dashing to the desk now practically buried under the mounds of paper. Using the chair behind the desk as leverage he hopped up and began digging madly through the papers in order to find the agency phone that lived there.

Mouri, who had been on hands and knees collecting a handful of documents that had found there way beneath desk nearly hit his head as he tried to stand up, evidently confused by the sound of footsteps atop the desk. “What the hell…” he blurted out, pulling himself up from off the floor and rubbing his head. “Damn it Conan…”

“I can't find Ran” the boy blurted out as he continued to excavate the phone from beneath piles of paperwork. “She probably just stepped out” Mouri retorted, clearly un-amused by the child's antics. Conan shook his head.

“Ran came home at some time after the files had been raided and tried to clean the mess” the boy tipped his head to one side, indicating the neatly stacked pile still visible on one side of the desk. “Ran never leaves something half finished, it's a pet peeve of hers, she wouldn't simply walk out on a mess like this; she couldn't.” As he spoke he continued to dig franticly. Mouri simply stood staring at the boy for a minuet, this onslaught of information and its implications apparently a bit much for him to take in all at once. Finally finding the cord Conan pulled it up and began pounding numbers into it franticly. “Pick up the phone Ran, please pick up the…”

The ring was abruptly cut off and Conan could hear the soft breath of someone on the other end. “Ran!” he blurted out, a flicker of hope washing over him. There was a long pause followed by a soft chuckle. “Ran…Ran…no I'm afraid there's no one here by that name.” The voice was dark, gravely and bore the unmistakable characteristics attributed to a voice changing device. Conan felt his blood run cold as his eyes went wide. Even digitally altered, the voice was unmistakable. The voice was burned into his memory, possessed his thoughts, and haunted his dreams.

Horror quickly turned to rage as he gripped at the phone with both hands. “Where is she…”

Again there came a long drawn out pause followed by a soft tinny laugh. “All in good time…first I need a word with the great detective Mouri.”

“You bastard where is Ran!” Conan practically screamed into the receiver, but he could feel the phone being wrenched out of his grasp before he had time to finish off his demand with a list of inevitable pain he had planed for the man toying with him at the other end of the line.

Oh yes, it was a man, that he was sure off. A man who hid his face behind a back brimmed hat and long hair.

Reluctantly he relinquished the phone to Mouri, his own gave now fixed on a non existent point, his hands fisted and jaw clenched.

“Who is this” Mouri demanded in a cold flat voice. There was a long pause and Conan could tell by the reaction on the man's face that whatever it was that was being said it was not to his liking.

“You coward” he spat, his voice was low and venomous “I swear to god if you lay one hand on my daughter…” There was an echoing laugh stifled by an abrupt click. The sound of a low constant tone signaled quite clearly that the conversation was over. For some time that hollow ringing sound seemed to engulf the entire room as both men stood frozen in place. It was too surreal, too improbable to be happening. Conan continued to stare fixedly at the same distant point, a numbing chill slowly washing over him, replacing his blind rage. How…how did they find out? How did they find out that he had survived…that he was…

“Damn it!” Moari's voice ripped through the silence, followed shortly by the crack as the phone was thrown against the far wall. Wrenching himself from his own shock the older man dashed to grab his coat, throwing it on as he made for the door. “I need to get the file…” he blurted out turning to Conan as he spoke. “They will call back by seven, you stay in this house until I get back incase they call again, do I make myself clear.”

Conan made no reply.

“Conan!” Moari barked and the boy raised his head and nodded. With that Moari dashed from the room slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the windows in there frames. Conan was left utterly and completely alone to sink farther into the nightmares that seemed to have begun to crystallize about him. And all the while he could hear that same hollow laugh echo through his mind, threatening to rip his head in two.

What had he done…