InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Finding Kagome ❯ Chapter Twenty ( Chapter 20 )

DISCLAIMER: I do not own InuYasha and company, however I DO own an overactive imagination...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finding Kagome

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

There was fog moving inland, and as the twilight grew dimmer Sally watched it spill over the westerly hills in slow motion, like foam from a too quickly poured beer. Switching on her fog lamps, she settled in for close watch of the road, as she sped north on Highway 101. She glanced into the rear view mirror at her own reflection. Who the hell is that?? It was the likeness of some other woman who's pale features contrasted sharply with the midnight blue of her uniform, a woman who's eyes were mirrors to the gates of hell.

 

To hell with this... She shook herself, then reached down and flipped on the stereo system, cranking up the volume.

 

She just didn't have the heart to relay the news over the phone, it had to be done in person. The destruction was so complete, the entire place had been trashed. She had told her superiors that she would conduct the initial interview with the victim, and fax it into headquarters. That was the only way she was able to get away, and avoid the inevitably impersonal phone call being made to Kagome to inform her of the break in. Who would do this to her?? Everyone loves Kagome...

 

And what the hell was that smell?

 

On her return with forensics, it was like the place had been bombed with teargas.

 

It was supposed to be a quick stop to pick up her shamisen before making the drive up the retreat. She had seen that the living room window was broken as she got out of her car, and something just didn't feel right as she climbed the stairs. The building was too quiet, for one thing. It was a old converted Victorian with 5 units, and it seemed as though no one was there. Then she saw the door, broken . . . no not just broken . . . splintered.

 

She had done a quick walk through, before picking up her instrument, which lay with a broken neck across the living room from where she had left it propped against the end of the couch. There wasn't much of a couch left, now. The cushions had been literally shredded, with the padding and foam tossed everywhere around the room, leaving bare springs and the wooden skeleton of the thing peeking through the upholstery. The multitude of decorative little pillows had suffered the same fate. She found pieces of the coffee table scattered throughout the place, and all of the pictures had been ripped from the walls. Refrigerator contents and kitchen cupboards had been emptied onto the floor, which was covered with broken dishes and the remnants of dry goods packages ripped open and the contents unceremoniously dumped. It was like they were looking for something . . . something specific . . .

 

The kitchen window had not been open then, but it was when she came back. It looked as though someone had used acid to destroy the lock on it. She didn't remember the first aide kit being on the floor in the kitchen, either. That's a two story drop, no way someone jumped out of that window . . .

 

Her mind was racing with all the minor details, the mental snapshots she had taken on her first time through, comparing them to what she had seen on returning to the scene with the forensics team. Something didn't fit, something that was alluding her. She could feel it. . . . it didn't feel right.

 

Hell, of course it doesn't feel right! It was a crime, and crime never feels right, Rodriguez . . . especially when it hits so close to home . . . It was just so . . . so violent. She shuddered, and she silently thanked the Gods that her friend had not been there.

 

She needed a drink. She needed Michael. She needed to fix her shamisen . . . DAMN! Forget the shamisen! What was poor Kagome going to do? All of her belongings had been ripped to shreds, literally. Even those old photographs that she cherished so much . . . Wait. . .

 

Photographs . . . broken frames . . . damaged great aunt Kagome on bedroom floor . . .

 

Flash to - empty broken frame by dresser . . . where did great aunt Kagome go?

 

“She sure as hell didn't get up and walk out of there by herself . . .” she muttered. Who would take an old school picture of someone who had been dead for what . . . 40 years or more?

 

She shook herself, both hands on the wheel trying to focus on the road. The weather was strange, or maybe it was her mood. The winding of the road, the patchy fog, she could have sworn that she saw a large dust devil jump over the road just ahead.

 

You're losin' it Rodriguez . . .

 

Her mind tugged and pulled at what little evidence she had to go on as she deftly slid past the light evening traffic, weaving around the slower vehicles, anxiously making her way to the one sanctuary she knew, to the people she felt closer to than family. I think I'll pick up some beer . . .

 

She needed a drink. She needed Michael. She needed that bitch in the rear view mirror to stop mocking her . . .

 

 

 

 

 

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He had been there, still as stone, for hours. The natural camouflage of his garb blending into the backdrop of the massive pines. Just off the private road which led to the gate of the compound, he patiently awaited the return of his prey. The bastard would pay . . . and dearly.

 

There had been few suspects to look to, when he found his devoted mate mutilated on the forest floor. Only one bastard was brazen enough to do this, on his turf, to his mate. What he didn't understand, was how he had gotten past the sentries. . . unless he had help. And the old bastard had stepped up house security, this was not going to be easy. Then again, nothing was ever easy with Sesshoumaru. It never had been, and it never would be. The only answer was to get the fucker's pelt, and end this feud once and for all.

 

“Talk to me,” he barked, catching a familiar scent. “What did you find?”

 

“Nothing, zilch,” came the reply

 

“Was she there? Did you find the female?” he demanded.

 

“No. No sign of her,” resignation tinged the answer. “Just the fucking wards she had slapped all over the place. She musta broke the one's on the door to leave, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten in at all.”

 

“Anything else you want to tell me?” he knew there was more.

 

“Not really . . .”

 

“Let me rephrase it then. Anything else you better tell me??” He turned his glower to the ookami-youkai that was perched on a limb above him. “You were gone for two days, it doesn't take two fuckin' days to search an apartment.”

 

“There was a little snag. No big deal,” arms folded loosely implying ease, the right hand of the Ookami leader looked away, unable to meet his alpha's gaze.

 

“Explain . . . snag. . . to me,” he was becoming irritated. This had not been a good week. The searches overseas had been fruitless, and in his absence Ayame had gotten herself killed. Now investigation of the one good lead they had here had apparently turned into a fiasco.

 

“The guys made too much noise . . . I guess,” he peered down to meet his leader's eyes briefly. “The manager . . . she interrupted us . . . so Diego gagged her and . . .” he looked at the ground far below him.

 

“And...??”

 

“He was hungry.”

 

“And a snack took two days to finish?”Kouga dropped to a snarl.

 

“Something like that . . .” Ginta replied with a look of disgust. “I made him take it somewhere else so they could finish the search. Then we had to go find him . . . try to clean up his mess . . . cops were all over the place down by the docks. They found one of the legs before we did.”

 

“Baka . . . where is he now?” All he got was a shrug for a reply. “Where is M'noche, it's his brat . . . he should handle it.” At the youkai's raised brow and snort, his question was answered. M'noche had developed an addiction for ningen females. Searching that apartment had probably driven him over the edge. They might not see him for days. He returned his attention to the road. “Find Diego. I will straighten his ass out. Meet me at the caves.”

 

“I'm on it,” and Ginta dutifully left.

 

Kouga returned to his vigil. He knew the lead car was out, which meant His-arrogant-fucking- Lordship was out, and this road was a perfect setup for an ambush. He didn't need any help, the bastard only had one arm, after all, and no one carted around their swords anymore. Plus . . . this was a personal vendetta. The sun had begun to set, and a fog was blowing in off the ocean. All the better.

 

His wait was not much longer.

 

When he saw the headlights turning up the winding path, a low snarl emitted from his throat and he began to salivate.

 

 

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