Sometimes the one we are searching for is much closer than we think.
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Detective Rukelle Savannah had never imagined that she would be working for the state. Right from when she was a gap-toothed eight year old, she had never been the patriotic type. It was understandable given that Rukelle had come from a seedy neighborhood in Baltimore. Growing up in a boarded up house with her mother who was a staunch devotee to cocaine, came with many challenges.

Her childhood home, which she shared with a colony of rats, was characterized by peeling walls, naked bulbs and loose floorboards. The staircase was too dangerous to walk on so they only made use of the lower floor and occasionally, the basement. Rukelle hated her own country for forgetting her. She hated it for being the first to donate money to other countries while their own people were wallowing in abject poverty. Most of all, she hated her country for moving on while she, alongside her sister, suffered at the hands of her mother and her junky friends.

As a result of the state's neglect, a heavily pregnant Rukelle had been arrested during a store robbery gone wrong eight years ago thus destroying her young marriage. She had ratted out her partner in crime and had served two years instead of the ten she would have served had she kept her mouth shut. Rukelle had then joined the police academy on a trial and error basis with the help of a few friends from the police force immediately after her release. She had no regrets. She was currently one of Boston's finest detectives, well known for her fiery temper and quick fists.

Now, Rukelle slammed the door of her Crown Vic shut with so much force that it shook. It didn't take an Einstein to tell that she was pissed. Rukelle was working overtime and she only had a splitting headache and piling dead bodies to show for it.

This morning, the station had received a 911 call from a teen named Ronnie Coleman requesting emergency assistance. Ronnie claimed that his friend who went by the names, Daisy Atkins had fallen into what appeared to be a mass grave. Rukelle, who had been planning on going home for a much needed nap or atleast for a well overdue shower, had been summoned to the scene.

Rukelle's interim partner, Detective Matthew Socram, a burly guy with an intimidating height of six feet two inches and jet black hair that was greying at the temples, got out as well. He struggled to keep up with her brisk pace while the scorching sun beat down on their exposed heads. One could not even imagine that it had rained heavily the night before. The ground had absorbed all the rain water from last night like a thirsty desert traveller. The ground was now firm with the exception of a few puddles here and there.

Rukelle and Matthew battled the swarms of flies and mosquitoes that protested their entry into their natural habitat. Rukelle was walking so fast that she tripped over a fallen log and would have landed face first into a waiting puddle, had it not been for Matthew who grabbed hold of her by the waist. The scene was getting rather too intimate for Rukelle and she slapped his hands away. Rukelle knew that she was vulnerable right now. These times were especially tough for her because this was around the time when her sister, Rachel had lost the battle to breast cancer eight years ago. Lately, Rukelle found herself craving human affection and she hated herself for that.

Rukelle walked on, Matthew following silently. None of them talked about her rare emotional outburst last night. Her outburst was understandable given that her best friend and former partner stood accused of felony murder. She was allowed to shed a tear or two or even a gallon. Rukelle didn't allow herself to wonder whether Archer was guilty or not. For now, she was going to focus on doing her job. She would live the rest to fate.

They finally came to what Rukelle assumed was the mass grave. The area surrounding it was crudely cordoned off with swaths of yellow crime scene tape wound around towering Douglas Firs and Pine trees. A variety of personnel swarmed the area. Rukelle spied a few crime scene techs snapping away with their cameras. They had to get pictures of the bodies/remains in situ before removing them. They could be here for days.

Rukelle left them to do their jobs. She looked for a familiar face and smiled when she saw Dr. Amanda Brown standing to one side guzzling down a bottle of water. She flashed her badge infront of the officer manning the entrance to the scene and ducked under the tape.

The area smelled strongly of decay and Rukelle took deep breaths through her mouth to keep from vomiting all over the scene. The scene was already contaminated as it was. She sauntered over to Dr. Amanda who raised a hand signalling for her to wait as she downed the rest of the water in one loud gulp.

"What's up?" Rukelle asked in lieu of greeting.

"The usual. Two teenagers were hoping for a sexcapade in the forest and stumbled upon the grim reaper's secret stash." Amanda replied and Rukelle almost chuckled.

"Where are the teenagers?"

"Right over there." Amanda pointed to her left. "The one who looks like she was making snow angels in the mud is Daisy Atkins and the knight in shining armor by her side is Ronnie Coleman."

Rukelle walked over to the couple and instantly scowled. They were already being interviewed by a sharply dressed woman and an African American man. The woman wore a grey pantsuit that belonged more in an opulent law firm than in the middle of a forest. Her red hair obscured Rukelle's view of her face. The African American man, who appeared to be more sensible fashion wise, sported a red v-neck T-shirt and plain black cargo pants that accentuated his dark hair. His angular jaw-line gave him a scrofulous look. The jagged white scar that marred his face didn't help the situation. He had the determined air of a man who had earned his spot in the pack.

"Scram." Rukelle said. The red haired woman stood up and pasted a counterfeit smile on her face.

"Special Agent Quinn Coppola." The red haired woman introduced. "This is my partner, Special Agent Vince Gilligan." The woman added, pointing to her partner. She turned back to the shell shocked teenagers, intentionally whipping Rukelle in the face with her hair. If that's how Quinn was going to play, she was about to find out that Rukelle could be way more petty.

Rukelle was preparing to yank Quinn's red hair from her scalp when her boss called.

"Before you argue, I know that you can do your job. The FBI are only here to assist with the dirty work while we focus on finding the real criminal. I called for another reason though. A woman has just called 911 claiming that there is a dead body in a red Camry on the outskirts of the forest. First responders are on their way but since you are closer, would you be a lamb and check it out? Could be related to your case." Maxwell hung up, not allowing Rukelle the chance to refuse. How dare he call her a lamb? He didn't even tell her where exactly the Camry was. Sigh.

Rukelle's partner was nowhere in sight. It seemed that she was going this alone. Another sigh. She turned to go and then she had a thought. She turned towards the teenagers who flinched the moment she snapped her fingers infront of their stupefied faces. Quinn scowled while Rukelle tried in vain, to stop her lips from twitching.

"Did you get here in a red Camry?" Rukelle asked. The kids answered with a nod. Another thought popped up. Most teenagers didn't just leave their homes and engage in risky sex all by themselves. Much less on the outskirts of a forest. There was always a person who kept lookout.

"Was it just the two of you in the car?" Rukelle asked. Daisy's cheeks turned the color of a ripe tomato and then she abruptly stood up from the log she had been sitting on. Ronnie stood up with her and they both said in unison.

"Natasha."

Quinn stood up now. She was livid. Rukelle was beginning to like her. "And you didn't think to mention that to us?"

They both started to stammer out excuses but Rukelle grabbed the two of them by the hand and took off at a run, Quinn and Vince in tow.

"Where are the keys?" Rukelle asked once they had reached the place where the Camry was parked. Daisy and Ronnie patted themselves down and Ronnie finally answered.

"They are in the car."

With a gloved hand, Rukelle pulled open the door of the backseat. Natasha's limp body dangled out of the seat and Rukelle heard a keening sound. Probably Daisy. She didn't blame her. She had experienced more trauma in the past seven hours than a normal adult does in their entire life. Natasha's head lolled to the side and Rukelle could clearly see the neat hole that had punctured Natasha's right temple. Rukelle pushed Natasha back into a sitting position in the car and perfunctorily checked her wrist for a pulse. It was as she'd thought. Natasha was dead. Rukelle was also made aware of the hole in the window that had formed a pattern of cracks on the glass that resembled rays of sunlight. It was a pretty clean shot.

Rukelle closed the car door and instantly became aware of how exposed they were. A killer had just been here and there they were standing on the road like Grade A idiots. Rukelle couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched. She looked East, West, North and South but still couldn't see anyone. Quinn and Vince were looking at her as if she was mad but she couldn't care less. As far as she knew, paranoia had never killed anyone.

Rukelle's phone rang and they all jumped. The caller ID read Archer and she hurriedly picked up without allowing herself to think.

"Archer we can't be talking to each other." There was no reply. All Rukelle could hear was someone's shallow breathing over the phone.

"Stop playing games with me, Archer" Rukelle shouted. Her heartbeat was erratic. Her hands and legs trembling.

Then a voice came through. It was most definitely female. The voice was so low as if the caller was far away from the phone, "You are like a child playing with fire. You will most definitely get burnt."

"Who are you and why are you calling from Archer's number?" Rukelle said. She prayed that the caller could not sense the fear that was emanating from her shaking body. Daisy and Ronnie were looking at her with mixed expressions of horror and curiosity.

"You know sometimes I wonder how you cops become cops. The killer is closer than you think. He is right under your noses. I would pay to see the expressions on your faces when you figure out who it is." The caller gave a mirthless laugh.

"Tell me who he is and I can help." Rukelle tried.

"You can't help me. If my mother couldn't save me, what makes you think that you can save me? Only God can save me now." The caller replied.

"Please let me atleast try." For the first time in her life, Rukelle was begging.

"When in doubt, look up to the Lord and he will save you." The caller answered and hung up.

Rukelle tried calling back multiple times but the number was blocked. Rukelle was tired of this damn case. All she wanted was to sleep for a whole week then wake up when this case was all gone. Then, she would take a long shower. She started walking back to the mass grave. Quinn, Vince, Daisy and Ronnie followed in silence. Was it just her or was it getting hotter?

Rukelle stopped at a place where the trees looked dead. At first she had assumed that it was because of autumn but it was only September. It was still too early for the trees to have lost all their leaves. The barks of the trees were as black as coal. She touched the bark of one tree and it came apart in her hand. Rukelle was pretty sure these trees had come into contact with fire not so long ago.

A crackling sound could be heard in the distance. Warm black clumps began to fall on Rukelle's body. She rubbed a small sample of the clump in between her two fingers and the particles melted into a fine grey-black powder on her fingers. Ash?

At that moment, Rukelle finally understood what the caller had wanted to tell her. The caller had said when in doubt look up to the Lord. Rukelle looked up and saw plumes of smoke clouding the sky. Fire was licking at the leaves and dancing from tree to tree like an experienced ballerina. Damn it. Their crime scene was going to burn down before they could properly analyze it and collect enough evidence to put away the killer.

Once again, the killer was going to walk away scot free. Shit.

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