forum Unusual Partners // Buddy Cop One-On-One // Open

Started May 18, 2019 by @WriteOutofTime

tune

"I wish the victim was able to speak," Nyir said with a grimace. "He was found alive, but he died from his injuries this morning."

"Oh." Alex paused, shaking his head. "That's too bad. And it leaves us with essentially no leads. Were there other people camping around here who might have witnessed something?"

"File says we have three potential witnesses," Nyir read. "Want to go see if we can find at least one of them before it's too late?"

"Yup." Alex was already turning on his heel and walking briskly towards the truck. "Remind me tomorrow, visit the local police and see what they think. Any leads are good leads."

"Good idea, though I get the feeling the cops down here are more…superstitious than where we're from," Nyir said, following him to the truck with her hands tucked in her pockets. "This should be interesting. Our first witness is named Timothy Tucker. He's just down the road. He hunts around here."

"A hunter? Interesting." Alex hopped in the driver's seat, reaching out a hand for the keys.

Nyir dropped the keys into his hand as she slipped into the passenger's seat. "Most people around here hunt. I don't know what the allure is, but they do."

"Bragging rights. It's all about who can kill the biggest animal." He turned the keys and started back onto the roads. "Do you have an address, and do you trust yourself to navigate us there?"

"Yes to the address, no to the navigation," Nyir responded, glaring at all the back roads that looked exactly the same on the map. "I've got it plugged into my GPS though. Should be fine. Take a left up here."

"K." He turned sharply, and from there the drive went by quickly with a few quick instructions and the GPS beeping occasionally.

They stopped in front of a small but quaint home with peeling white paint and a fence around it. A dog barked at them from the front porch as it stood in front of two rocking chairs. Confederate flags were placed sporadically around the yard. "Lovely place," she commented.

Alex gave a nod, eyebrows raised. "I'll bet you five dollars he's eating barbecue and gets angry with us really fast." He got out of the car and stretched, looking warily through the half-curtained windows.

"Extremely likely," she said with a nod. "If he's married, his wife'll probably be more civil. Hopefully." She walked up to the front door and knocked lightly.

"Let's hope so…" Alex grumbled, standing next to her. The door slammed open, and a tall man with a heavy beard glared out at them.
"Who're ya'll and why ya'll at my house." His accent was heavy, and his eyes seemed to twitch around.

"We're with the police," Nyir said, flashing her badge with a raised eyebrow. "We're here to ask you a few questions about the attack last night."

He growled low in his throat. "And what makes ya'll think I know anythin'." He said grumpily, shifting back on his feet to cross his arms.

"We were told by the local police office that you reported the crime," Nyir said, trying not to show her impatience.

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe I did. But that don't mean I know anything. I was just on my way home, and saw the blood. That's all." He backed away and started to close the door.

"Mhm." Nyir leaned in closer, pressing her palm against the door. "Sir, please. There's been a murder. If you have any information about the victim or the crime, anything at all, we need you to disclose it."

The man hesitated, leaning away from the door. "All I know is it ain't the first time. Whatever it was has been cutting down the deer population. And it doesn't eat the deer-it mangles them and leaves them."

"How long has that been going on?" Nyir said.

"Just under four months. But that was the first murder. Whatever it is, it's getting braver." He muttered, taking a wary glance around. "It'd be smart to keep those guns of yours loaded and ready."

"Do you know anyone who may have seen whatever's been mauling the deer and the people?" she asked.

He paused, glancing into the distance. "Crazy Joey up yonder on the river. He's lived in a treehouse in the swamp for near 60 years now. You won't be able to find him, but he'll find you." And with that, the man ducked back into his house and slammed the door closed.

"Crazy Joey," Nyir repeated slowly, her forced neutral expression falling away to reveal a scowl. "Sounds so promising. I can't wait to talk to Crazy Joey up yonder."