The Perfect Crime

Chapter 2: A STORM

Beware, a storm's only talent is destroying everything in it's way.
★

At exactly 12:07pm, Detective Archer Finn crawled out of his extremely cold and extremely empty king sized bed with a raging hard-on. He had dreamt about Emilia again for the first time in a long while. Seeing her yesterday had wiped out all the progress he had made towards moving on with his life and to think he had been doing so well. Now the dreams were back with a vengeance.

He stood under the icy cold spray of the shower until his hard-on dissipated then he made use of the shower gel. Archer took care of his two day old beard and toweled off.

Archer selected one of the many black shirts from his gothic style wardrobe accompanied with black jeans and the usual utilitarian boots. He did not forget to slip his blade in  his right boot. He had only used this blade once many many years ago and now it acted as his talisman. He never went anywhere without it.

Archer's house was finally coming together after years of on and off renovations. He had managed to paint the three bedrooms navy blue. The two bathrooms in the house were now in working order and were tiled, the living room was perfect with its beige coloured walls. All that was remaining was the kitchen which Archer really had no use for. He barely ate at home these days. His diet comprised mainly greasy doughnuts and gallons of coffee that tasted like a mud mixture. On good days, he managed takeout.

Archer sat at the dining table. He didn't bother with food because he knew his fridge only contained moldy cheese and remnants of a casserole that had long entered the after life. Archer knew that he should throw them out but he had never mustered up the courage to do so because throwing them out would leave his fridge as empty as he felt. Archer settled for coffee instead. He watched the steam dance around the cup in long intricate swirls. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. The dancing steam seemed to be emphasizing his failure to find Harleigh Amari.

He busied himself up by cueing up the surveillance videos from the various CCTV cameras in the city. He was looking for a clue that would enable them locate Harleigh Amari or atleast find the path that her abductors had taken. He and his partner, Rukelle had spent the entire night reviewing case files and reports from witnesses and friends with no success. The only thing that they had agreed on was the fact that Thelma knew more than she was letting on.

Thelma Louise, Harleigh's best friend was a tall woman of average build. Her blonde hair spent most of it's days arrested in a strict ponytail and her back was always kept ramrod straight. Archer was scared that if she bent down, her body would snap in half like a twig. Thelma also worked at the community theatre as a backup dancer alongside Harleigh.

During the interview, Thelma had seemed skittish and distracted. This had raised many red flags for Rukelle who had consequently decided to interview her again today. Archer hoped that they would have progress for the media soon or else the entire city of Boston would turn their anxiety on the police.

Thirty minutes later, Archer gave up on the surveillance footage entirely. There was a lot on his mind and he couldn't concentrate. He kept thinking back to yesterday night when Amanda had invited him to dinner only for him to receive a mini-stroke when he saw Emilia walk into the restaurant. The white off-shoulder dress that had hugged Emilia's subtle curves had done wonders for his subconscious. Archer had wanted to tell her so badly that he had filed for a divorce. He wanted to tell her that he would be a single man soon but before he could say anything, Emilia had fled just like she had done two years and two months ago.

Living a block away from her tortured him. It was hard to see her run in the evenings and not want to go out and simply talk to her. On some days, Archer went as far as walking up to her driveway and just looking at her dairy loft apartment. One day, he had even dared to reach her front door. He had raised his fist to knock and then he had thought better of it.