Can't You Save Me?

•1•

Pete walks through the double doors of the police station at eight thirty on a Tuesday morning. The sun is shining brightly despite the early time but it makes the outside scene glow beautifully. Cold air from the a/c blasts Pete in the face as he enters, sending a shiver down his spine and raising goosebumps on his skin, though the reason for the air being on in the first place is a mystery; it's like forty-five degrees out.

Once Pete gets to his desk he sits in his work chair and leans back comfortably, rubbing the crust from his eyes with his fingers. Another late night at home and another early morning at work. Pete should really think about changing shifts, third shift would be great but that's mostly for the medical examiners, lab geeks, and seasoned detectives. Pete doesn't get enough big cases to be like those guys.
Until today.

"Morning, Pete," Joe pops his head into Pete's small cubical and drops a manila folder onto his desk, the papers inside askew. "Got something for you."

Pete looks up as Joe slides the folder across to him. "What's this."

"Reopening a cold case. Look it over, tell me what you think."

Pete flips the folder open and skims the first page of basic information: height, hair color, eye color, etc.. He moves that page to the side and looks over the pages of reports: two robberies, three assaults and eight homicides.

"How in the hell did this case go cold?" Pete's mostly thinking out loud.

"Somehow he knows exactly where we are, when we're going to be there and what we're doing. We can't get any kind of location pinned on him. We've been trying to bring him in for years."

Pete returns to the first page. "Why are we reopening it, is he on the rampage again?"

Joe nods. "Looks like it. Someone reported seeing a dead body behind the nightclub downtown and Patrick's DNA was found under the victim's fingernails."

"Patrick, huh?" Pete finally looks at the mugshot that he had skimmed over earlier and when he looks at the soft cherubic face he can barely hold in his laugh. "Joe, are you fucking with me?"Joe furrows his brow and Pete holds the mugshot up for Joe to see. "So you're telling me that this kid is a criminal mastermind?" He says skeptically.

Joe chuckles lightly. "That's from his first arrest a while back. Nothing major, just driving without a license."

"Okay, so why are you showing me this? You know I don't work big cases, this is more for the old farts with decades of experience under their belts." Pete says, replacing the loose papers back into the manila folder.

"We need as much help as we can get, not even the old farts could solve this one alone. Help us out?"

Pete sighs. "I don't really have a choice do I?"

"Nope." Joe says, getting to his feet and starting for the door. "Look it over as much as you need, Pete. Can't fuck up on your first big case." He calls over his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And just like that, Pete is put on a case that he wasn't prepared for or even wanted for that matter. He was perfectly content with the small and simple stuff, the stuff that didn't require much effort. It wasn't that Pete was lazy, he liked his job and it paid the bills, it was just the thought of the long hours and extreme stress he'd have to endure that bothered him. He'd get grey hair, wrinkles, a receding hairline and his pants would be pulled up to his chest before he reached the age of thirty. Pete definitely didn't want that and hopes that this is the only major case he's put on. Ever.

"Patrick Martin Stump." He says aloud to himself, testing the name in his mouth as he stares down at the mugshot with the soft face.

Pete already feels himself aging.