In Cold Blood (A Tntduo Fic)

XXXIV

It was as if the killers had disappeared.

Nothing had happened for a week. No notes, no bodies, no ominous grafiti, nothing. It was as if there had never been a murder; never been a poisoning. It made Wilbur's skin crawl.

It was as if the killers had never existed.

Wilbur sighed defeatedly, staring at the stack of papers in front of him. He twirled his pen in his fingers.

"Will you stop brooding over there and actually help?" Quackity said sharply. A stack of papers sat in front him, a larger stack between the both of them. "We have to be missing something."

"We've gone over everything four times," Wilbur said. "It doesn't make sense."

Wilbur's notes sat off to his left, jumbled scribbled of ink on the notebook paper. A line separated it down the middle, and large, thin letters looped at the tops of each column. Suspect, Innocent.

Tommy's name was the only one written under innocent.

And yet, Wilbur still found himself doubting.

"Hey," Quackity said. "You still here?"

Wilbur shook his head, spacing back in. "Yeah, just tired."

Quackity huffed, setting down his pen to look at his watch. "We've been at this for hours."

Wilbur nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "I feel like we're close."

Quackity hesitated for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. "Have you asked Tommy?"

Wilbur scoffed. "Fucking- of course not. He's been through enough."

"I know," Quackity said, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms. "But he knows something about the smiles."

Wilbur looked back at the papers before glancing up, looking towards the balcony. Only speared with glass doors, he could easily see Tommy sit on the other side. He looked up every so often from his book to stare at the sprawling city below.

"I know," Wilbur said defeatedly. "Let's just- let's go over everything one more time."

Quackity nodded, combing through the papers in front of him. "Alright, what do we know about the victims?"

Wilbur thumbed through the autopsy reports. "I either knew them, or were there when they were poisoned." He came to the last page, clenching his jaw. "Except for that first body."

Quackity laced his own fingers together, leaning forward to read the paper in front of him. "We need to identify that body, then."

Wilbur turned to look at Quackity, eyes catching on the way one of his fingers tapped against his hand. "And how the fuck are we supposed to do that? Nobody has come forward to claim the body, no missing persons reports, not even fingerprints."

Quackity looked down at his paper, biting his lip. "Tags on his clothes?"

"All cut off," Wilbur said. "It's like they never existed."

"Secret service? Or whatever the hell it's called," Quackity said, chuckling lightly.

"A spy?" Wilbur said, frowning. "That raises more questions than answers. Did our killers know they were a spy?"