Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Heaven Sent ❯ Single Feather ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimers: See Prologue.

Warnings: Crime scene, language, etc.

~*~*~*~

The sky was dark but the streets where brightly lit and he could see everyone clearly. He only needed to see one person. This one had to be the right one. He had been tracking this one for weeks now and it showed all the signs, and based on the description given to him by his superiors he was certain that this time he was right.

He snorted as some exhaust penetrated his nostrils, and watched the people come and go until he spied the thing he had been waiting for. It came out of a brightly lit building, most likely a bar, and quickly walked towards its car and got in - it seems nervous. //That is good.\\ he though //I have to act now, before it gets away again.\\ He had been following it for weeks waiting for the perfect time to strike - and that time was now.

He followed the car, waiting for it to stop and then he would pounce. He just had to wait. He was good at waiting, he had done it most of his life. The car stopped and it got out. //This is the perfect time\\ Then he got out of his car and approached it.

"Hello," he said as he approached. He was smiling, putting on his most friendly façade. //This will be easy\\

It turned and smiled back. "Hi . . . . . . .

*****One week later*****

Quatre was driving as fast as he could in the heavy traffic. Another body had been found. //Just great!\\ He had been in Chicago for little over a month and already something had happened. //It's too soon. I should still have a few weeks.\\ He turned left off Roosevelt Road onto Racine Ave. He was headed for Sheridan Park - that's where the body had been found.

The flashing lights signaled that Quatre was at his destination. He stepped out of the car and prepared himself for what laid ahead. The first person to greet him was Detective Ross. Her normal bubbly and cheerful personality seemed doleful as she approached him.

"This way," was all she said before she started to walk back the way she had come. He flipped the collar of his coat up trying to ward off the cold. He followed, bewildered by her reactions. Maybe this wasn't related to his case, but what if it was, and something had gone wrong? He would just have to wait and find out.

When Quatre arrived at the scene he found Trowa already there examining the body and the surrounding area. He carefully crept closer trying not to disturb anything.

"What is the situation?" he asked Trowa.

"We have a male, named Zachary Anderson, 20 years of age and a student at the University of Illinois." Trowa answered. "Do you think it's the same guy?"

Quatre took this time to examine the body himself. The victim was indeed male; he had sandy blonde hair, fair skin and was probably an athlete of some sort. He was lying on his back in the grass, arms folded over his chest. At first glance he appeared to be sleeping but if you took a second look you could see that all the color was gone from his face. His clothing appeared neat and clean from the black T-shirt down to the faded blue jeans.

"I do believe so, but I can't say for sure. Not until I see if he has the same marks as the others."

Trowa nodded his agreement, and motioned for one of the other officers. "Are we done here?" he asked in his normally stoic tone.

"Yes we are, sir," the officer said, not sounding to confident. He was a patrol officer from the precinct, and Quatre had seen him once or twice, usually with a smaller blonde-headed man.

"Alright then," Trowa said. "Let's get this body to the morgue for further examination."

With that everyone burst into action, cleaning up the site, putting the gathered evidence in the cars, and getting the body into the ambulance. Quatre was not surprised at how efficient everyone was, but he was surprised at how Trowa seemed so `in his element'.

Throughout the past month he and Trowa had formed a working relationship. It mainly consisted of the two of them staying out of each other's way and not talking unless necessary. Even then Quatre could notice how uncomfortable Trowa seemed in an office, and how the other man loathed paperwork. But here, at the scene where the action was is where he truly belongs.

Once Trowa was finished overseeing the clean up he turned to Quatre and said, "Meet at the morgue in about half an hour, okay Winner?"

"Sounds good," he said, absolutely amazed at Trowa. That was the most he had spoken to Quatre since they started working together, and it was said in a nice professional manner, not in a commanding voice laced with anger. " I wonder what he's on." He said to himself as he headed back towards his rental car, " I hope he stays on it. I like Trowa this way."

~*~

At the morgue Trowa watched as Quatre examined the body. It was indeed the latest victim of the Hallmark Killer; from the way the body was prepared, right down to the symbols of death carved on the back and over the heart. The cause of death was still completely unknown. Quatre believed that the killer might have poisoned his victims, and then removed their organs, but that was hard to prove without any fluids or organs to test.

Trowa noticed that Quatre, who had been buzzing around the body like a little bee, had been transfixed on one spot for the past few minutes. He moved from his perch on the wall, and peered over the blonde's shoulder to see for himself what the man found so fascinating.

It appeared that Quatre was looking at the small incision in the victim's side from which the organs had been removed. Upon closer inspection he could see that wasn't it at all. What Quatre was looking at was a beautiful crystal white feather about the length of his forearm. The feather shimmered like a jewel in the florescent lighting as Quatre twisted it around in his fingers. In all of Trowa's life he had never seen anything that could compare with what laid before him.

He tried to talk but all that came out was a barely audible, "Wow."

That barely audible word caused Quatre to shoot out of his trance, realizing that Trowa was looking at the feather. The blonde quickly turned around and hid the feather behind his back, too surprised to say anything. He just stared up into the deep green, puzzled eyes of Trowa, who was standing only a hair's width from him. //He's so close, I can smell his aftershave.\\

Trowa came to his senses first, saying, "I don't recall that being in the report."

"Be…be…cause it's not," Quatre said, "This is a new advancement in the case, and . . . I . . . should get it down to the lab . . . right away. Now if you'll excuse me." With that he pushed his way past Trowa and out the door before he could even blink.

//He's sure is acting odd.\\ Trowa thought staring at the empty doorway. Quatre had acted strange, even for him, which meant he must be hiding something. //I bet it has to do with that mysteriously beautiful feather?\\

Letting out a heavy sigh he strolled out of the room and headed for the lab. He was determined to find out the deal with the feather come hell or high water.

~*~

Quatre was coming out of the lab at warp speed when he ran into someone's firm chest. Had it not been for a steady hand on his shoulder he might have hit the ground as well.

Steadying himself Quatre looked up to apologize, but suddenly lost all train of thought, for staring down at him were a large pair of emerald green eyes that could only belong to one person.

"Trowa!" the small blonde forced out, "What are you doing here?" He was shaking slightly, hoping that the taller man wouldn't notice.

Trowa looked down on the small blonde practically in his arms. //Maybe that's why he seems so nervous.\\ He took a step back to allow the blonde some room.

"I was just coming to check on the progress of the evidence that we collected," He said. Although the real reason he came was to see about the feather.

"I just finished giving it to them," Quatre said calming his nerves. //Why does he have to stand so close?\\ "They said they would get done as soon as they could."

Trowa nodded his head, "I see." He paused for a moment then said "Alright, I'll see you later then."

With that he walked off, and Quatre let out a large sigh of relief, glad to have room to breathe. Although it wasn't like he minded, it was just that Trowa could be overbearing and not even know it. Oh well, he had better things to do then worry about . . . about what? . . . Certainly not Trowa. Why would that bother him? //Ah, life was so confusing sometimes.\\

With another heavy sigh Quatre started towards the office he shared with Trowa. Maybe paperwork would distract him from all the chaotic thoughts running through his head.

~*~

After a few hours of twiddling his thumbs, Quatre decided he need to take a walk. He needed to clear his head and try and get a perspective on things. The newest development in the case was driving him bonkers. //What could all this mean?\\ He had thought long and hard and still couldn't come up with anything.

He was on his way back to his office and lost in thought when he heard an odd noise coming from one of the janitor's closets as he passed by. The noise sounded like crying and on further inspection he was right - someone was crying.

Upon opening the door to the closet, he found Detective Ross sitting; a stack of boxes Kleenex in hand, and eyes red and puffy from a long period of crying. This was highly unlike the woman he knew Cathandra to be; she was always bubbly and cheerful with a smile for everyone.

Quatre knelt down beside the weeping woman and gently placed a hand on her shoulder; trying to remain calm as a flood of strong emotions hit him at once. He leaned forward and asked, "What's the matter Cathandra?" his voice barely above a whisper.

She continued to sob for another few minutes, and then gained enough composure to speak. At first Quatre could only understand half of what she was saying, but as Quatre rubbed her back, and she calmed down, he was able to catch more.

"He was so young," she sobbed. "Why did this have to happen to him? He was so bright and talented." With that she broke out into another fit of sobs, her whole body shaking from the effort.

Quatre instinctually reached up and pulled her to him offering words of encouragement and comfort, "Who are you talking about," he asked in his most calming voice, "Please tell me so I can help you."

She controlled sobs long enough to offer a single name, "Zachary Anderson." Victim number ten.

Immediately Quatre remembered that Mr. Anderson had family living in the city, an aunt and uncle, a Kathleen and Simon Ross. They must be Cathandra's parents, and that would make Zachary Anderson her cousin. No wonder she was so crushed, he had heard her mention a cousin before, but would have never made the connection. How stupid could he be? Not wanting to say anything Quatre just held her and let her cry. Somehow, he thought, it was long overdue.

~ Trowa had looked all over the building and still couldn't find his partner. He knew that the blonde hadn't gone home for his car was still in the garage. //So where could he be?\\ They had work to do, people to interview and a trail to catch before it grew cold.

He was just about to give up when he saw Quatre and Detective Ross come out of a janitor's closet, Detective Ross looking a bit disheveled. //What on earth were they doing in there?\\ He was about to go and investigate when one of the lab technicians came running up.

"Detective Barton! I have that information on that feather you wanted"

TBC . . .

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First off I just want everyone to applaud my new beta reader, The Falcon. Yey!!! We love you!!

And second of all PLEASE R&R! They make me feel special and my story worth writing. Thanks a ton.