Eleven: December 19th 2008Mature

SCOTT was sitting in his office, at his desk, flicking through James Gordon’s case notes. He had to admit, he was struggling. They were all struggling. How could nobody have seen anything? It was 7.30 in the morning! The area was pristine! All trace of evidence, if there ever was any, had washed away! It was bloody ridiculous! They had mountains of useless data, most of it leading back to the same thing. The car. A silver Chrysler some people say they saw rove away just a few minutes after the shooting had occurred. That was the only lead they had since the case was opened in September which was now two months ago.

“This is ridiculous!” Scott cried.

He rolled himself over to the CD Player and slipped a Nirvana, Everytime I Die and a Green Day CD into the player. As; You Know You’re Right, began to thump through the speakers. Scott started to play the air guitar, and when that song finished and Lithium screamed lyrics at him, Scott picked up two pencils and started drumming at the air.

He was completely oblivious to the knock at the door 15 minutes later. Scott had the music up so loud that he couldn’t hear the constant rapping at the door. Eventually, when Ben walked in with a bemused expression on his face, Scott stopped mid thrash and dropped the pencils to the floor. He wheeled himself over to his desk and folded his arms in front of him. Ben stood silent for a few moments until Scott broke it.

“Yes, Ben? What can I help you with?”

“Erm. James Gordon?”

“Yes? What about him? He’s a corpse laying in a fridge in the Morgue, with a case file the size of Africa and a dead end.”

“Oh. It’s getting like that is it?”

“You could say that.”

Ben nodded: “Well, I just think we should take another look at the body.”

“Why? Matt did the autopsy and cleaned it? It was as we expected. Unless you’ve had an epiphany!”

“Well, kinda, I guess. I was sitting at my desk, thinking about my case this morning. I was looking at the autopsy notes and, as we all know, the bullet was a through-and-through. But, the car was parked to far away for that to have happened. There would never have been enough momentum for it to travel that far.”

“And it was at the wrong angle,” Scott breathed as he realised what Ben was saying.

“Right. Because the car was to the right, but the bullet hit him by someone facing directly in front of him.”

“So that means…”

“That the killer was no more than 10 feet away from our Vic.”

“Gordon knew his killer.”

Ben nodded. There was a brief silence in the room as Scott noted down all Ben had said on a sheet of paper. He ripped it out of the note pad and jumped out of his chair.

“Let’s get going. What first? Crime scene or body?”

“Crime scene, I think actually.”




Ed had been listening to the sounds coming from the warehouse for the past 10 minutes. He had worked out that these guys in the building were related to those who killed Gordon. But without seeing inside, he couldn’t discover how. He decided to look around the perimeter for a way in to see the activity inside. The walls of the warehouse were dull grey metal and surrounded by a chicken wire fence about 8 feet high. As Ed was only 5 foot 7, it was slightly intimidating. Surrounding the warehouse were huge nettles, brambles and other spiky weeds.

It took him a while to realise that around the back of the warehouse was very quiet. It became eerie quickly after that, like walking along a dark alley in the centre of Bristol at the dead of night. Ed noticed a door just ahead of him. He hurried over to it and gently pressed down on the handle. It was unlocked. He slid his 6mm out of its holster whilst listening to see if he could hear any voices behind the door. It sounded silent. He reached for the door handle once more and slowly pressed down on the handle. He then quickly swung open the door and shot the gun in front of him. Nobody. He took a step forward and the door slammed shut behind him. Ed swung round in an attempt to stop it, but he was too late. Trapped. Darkness engulfed him. He took a few more steps into the dark corridor, his footsteps echoing like raindrops. Apart from the echoing of his footsteps, the warehouse was silent here. He couldn’t hear the loud shouting’s of the gang members that he could out the front. Ed edged himself further and further down the corridor, keeping to the side walls with his gun raised against his face, poised to fire at any moment. Soon, he could hear the noise of the gang, very faintly, further down the corridor. His heart was pounding in his ears. Fear pumping through his body. Adrenaline kicked in. Suddenly, a door, only a few feet away from Ed, opened and light flooded the corridor. A man stepped into the corridor with a cigarette in his mouth. The scent of cheap, nasty cologne wafted up to Ed and made him gag. The short sound echoed down the corridor like a train going past. The man snapped his head in Ed’s direction and took a step forward. Shit! Ed wanted to scream. Another step. Ed noticed it was the same man who had dumped the body in the trash cart as though it were a piece of carpet. Hooded black muscle shirt, covered by a open black shirt, white skinny jeans, except he had taken off the black leather jacket which he had worn when he had dumped the body. One more step. Ed took his gun in both hands and closed his eyes… and waited…




Becky Millard was sat in her apartment watching Poltergeist, curled up on the sofa. She was so tired, but simply could not fall asleep. She had watched this film numerous times since she had been discharged from Hospital, it was beginning to get boring, but it was one of her favourites. She switched it off and picked up her mobile phone from the table next to her, she flicked through her contacts until she reached Scott. She hesitated for a moment and put the phone to her lips, then pressed the button to go back to the desktop, hauled herself of the sofa and wandered over to the bathroom.

Her wound still stung as the water poured over her body. She ran her fingers through her hair and screwed her eyes shut. A tear slid down the side of her face. It all hurt so badly. She was so tired. She switched the water off and got dry, put on her pyjamas and climbed into bed.




She was still awake at just gone midnight, staring straight at the ceiling. She turned over and looked out the widow. Hold on. There wasn’t a window there in her bedroom. She sat up and realised she wasn’t in her bedroom at all. She was back in Hospital, but she had no recollection of how she got there. The window was open and a cold breeze was running through the room. Every so often, she could hear a car drive past from the road, eight stories below. She found herself swinging her legs out of the bed, and walking over to the window. The lace curtains were blowing into the room due to the breeze. She threw them open and leaned out the window. The streetlights below echoed the eerie yellow light up to her floor and the light danced on her face. She pushed herself back from the window, leaving a steamy handprint on the window pane. She turned and walked towards the door and down the corridor. As she walked, Becky reflected on what had happened. She knew Josie from childhood. Josie had always been quiet and wrapped up in her won little world. Becky had had dealings with Josie before, but she couldn’t quite understand why she would want to try and kill her. They had gone to the same Drama School and Secondary School when they were younger, but that had been pretty smooth. It just didn’t make sense. As Becky continued to walk down the corridor, she had an eerie feeling that the other patients in the hospital were watching her. They seemed to be walking towards her, arm outstretched trying to grab at her. Moaning. She screwed her eyes shut and went to scream. But when she opened her eyes again, they were all fast asleep. She glanced sideways at the corridor opposite her room. The CCTV camera’s monotonous, repetitive and robotic movements made her feel all alone. It was like something out of The Twilight Zone, she thought. She found herself running. Faster and faster. Somewhere. Anywhere. Away from here. She didn’t notice the janitor cleaning the floors until she had run into them. She screamed with shock.

“Shh! You’ll wake the patients!” the Janitor whispered, then chuckled.

“Who are you?” Becky asked, panting.

“I’m Ali Slade. I’m a real person, but I’m a medium. I’ve tapped into your dream to warn you.”

“A medium?”

“Yes, it’s someone who can contact the dead.”

“But I’m not dead.”

“No. Sorry, it’s very long and complicated. I haven’t got much time. I need to warn you…”

“About what?”


Becky sat up with a jolt. She was back in her room.

“Ed,” she whispered, “What about Ed?”




Ed could feel his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes were purely focused on the man who was standing in the dark corridor directly in front of him.

The large figure began to turn around to face Ed. His eyes glinted in the dark and Ed could just make out a smile begin to spread across his face. A hand began to reach down to the holster hanging around the waist of the man’s white skinny jeans. The shirt rustled as the hand reached down to retrieve the gun from its holster. The man loaded the barrel. As the click echoed down the corridor, Ed grabbed his gun from it’s holster and loaded it. He swung the gun upwards and pointed it up in the man’s face.

“Turn around, and start walking,” Ed stated, trying to disguise his voice.

“Or what?” said the man, who had an oddly steely voice.

“Or this.”

Thinking quickly, Ed stepped to his left and swung the gun with brute force into the back of the man’s skull. There was a loud crack and a thump as the man fell to the floor.

“You asked,” Ed muttered, smiling at the figure in front if him. He stepped over the body of the man and walked over to the door. He pressed his ear against the cold metal and listened for any voices or sounds. There were a few muffled ones and the occasional thump in the background, but Ed decided to take his chances.

He pushed down on the bar-handle and kicked the door open, jumping into the room with his gun out in front of him, finger on the trigger. The door made a loud slam against the wall and Ed cringed, It soon became apparent that this gang hadn’t just moved in, but they had, in fact, been here for some time.

The room was and office and was newly decorated in a modern and stylish fashion with silver, black and blue wallpaper. There were several windows in the office, so the room was well lit. At the back of the room there was a desk, all neatly laid out with a MacBook open on it. But it was what was behind the desk that caught his attention.

“Shit,” he thought out loud.




“Language please,” Darren Martyn said.

“Darren! How come you’re here? I thought I caught you years ago?”

“You liked that, didn’t you, Ed? Fame for sending a most wanted down? Well, guess what… You almost had it… and me.”

“What happened?”

“I did. I was too clever for you… and the rest of your feeble “Police Force”. How is Amy these days?”

“Shut your face you bastard… You always did have a big ego. That much hasn’t changed.”

“No. Not much else either. Although I did change identities for a while. Though why I’m telling you that is beyond me,” there was a pause as the two men scowled at each other for a few moments, “Hand me your phone please, Ed.”

“Why?” Ed demanded bluntly.

“Because if you don’t I will shoot you.”

“Not if I don’t shoot you first”

“I’ll be having that, thank you,” Darren gestured for the gun and suddenly a hand sprung from behind Ed and grabbed it out of his hand before he could react. Ed spun round.

“What the fuck?!”

The man whom he had knocked unconscious a few minutes earlier was stood behind him. A small line of blood had run down the side of his face, stopping just under his ear.

“How the hell?” Ed muttered, confused.

“Your phone, Ed.”

Ed decided he now had no choice and handed the phone over. Darren, who was still sat behind the desk in the high-backed executive chair, flipped his feet up on the desk.

“Now, let’s see,” Darren said to himself as he slid the phone up “Phonebook. Amy… Tempting but no… no…. no…. no…. no… Nicola, Office! Ah here we are. Phone.”

He placed the phone on the desk and put it on speaker.

“Good Evening, Bristol Police Station. How can I help?”

“Hello, I believe I have one of yours. One Ed. Treasure. Smith?”

“Ed!? Is he okay?”

“I’m fine Amy. I love you. Get Ben, or Scott. Now!” Ed shouted at the phone in desperation.

“Shut it, you,” Darren snapped.

The door then burst open and a young woman with fiery red hair burst in with a look of outrage on her face. She had surprisingly long legs that were wrapped in unbelievably tight jeans and stiletto boots. She put her hands on her hips and scowled at Darren.

“Darren!” she screeched, “What the fuck are you doing!? And who is this?... Hi, Owen,” she added sheepishly on the end, fluttering her eyelashes seductively at the muscular man who Ed has knocked out.

“Calm, down Holly. And for goodness sake you two, just hook up!” at that, both Owen and Holly went decidedly red, which made Ed snicker ever so slightly, until a gun clicked to load behind his head, “Holly, this is an old friend of mine. Edward Treasure-Smith. Officer Ed.”

“Nice to meet you,” Holly responded courteously, “I do apologise for my behaviour.” Ed remained silent. Holly sighed, disappointed.

“What were you thinking Darren? Seriously. Ah well. Not that it matters…”

Holly pulled the trigger and fired three shots at Ed across his torso. He slowly sunk to the ground on his knees, a look of anguish shot across his face before he gracefully crumpled into a heap.

“I apologise again, Ed.”




“Oh my God! Ed! No! Ed!” Amy screamed, dropping the phone and jumping out of her chair, her face crinkling up. She put her hands to her mouth and then started flapping them, “No! No! NO! Ed….,” she picked up the phone and kept saying Ed’s name down the speaker, but it was dead…. She was screaming and crying hysterically as she fell to her knees.

Scott came hurrying down the stairs and over to the desk where he knelt down beside Amy, cradling her in his arms, just as he had done when Becky had been shot.

“Amy?” asked softly, resting his cheek on the top of her head comfortingly, “Amy? What is it?”

“He’s dead… Ed’s dead! My Ed…”

The End

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