Pathos - A Duskwood Fanfiction

Chapter 20 - sexual content warning

Alan Bloomgate sat back in his office chair wearily, lifting his fingers to rub at his eyes as exhaustion had made them feel like two molten marbles in his skull. He kept his eyes closed as he moved his hands to prop up his forehead, idly watching the swirling tornados of retinal phosphene that bloomed in the darkness that had been left behind as he had closed his eyelids.

It had been a long day.

A long month and a half, really. The disappearance of Hannah Donfort had eaten up a lot of resources, both official and personal, and the appearance of her brother had eaten up any scraps that might have been left.

The coroner's report for Richy Roger lay open on the desk in front of him, having finally arrived the day prior. As the cause of death had readily been apparent at the scene and there was no suspicion of homicide, Roger's case had been triaged down to the very bottom of the coroner's caseload. The report had been boilerplate; there was nothing new in the coroner's findings that he didn't already know, and all that remained now was to deliver the death certificate and remains to the family.

He felt badly for Roger's parents, the father especially. The mother had succumbed to the ravages of early onset dementia several years ago and was now just a frail, non-verbal ghost that drifted around the Garage aimlessly, occassionally wandering off and triggering a town wide search until she was found again. When he had attended their home to deliver the news of their son's death, she had simply stared vacantly at him as he tried to explain to her what had happened, and had wandered away mid-conversation to turn on the television.

Roger's father though, that was an entirely different kettle of fish. He was a taciturn man at the best of times, and the news of his son's crimes and death had rendered him almost as uncommunicative as his wife. He had simply listened as Alan had talked, arms folded over his chest, interrupting him only once to ask a single, gruff question.

'When can we bury him?' The elder Roger had asked, nodding slightly after Alan informed him of the convoluted protocol involved in releasing a body that had died as a result of criminal activity, and had then stood up silently to show Alan to the door without another word.

A failing business, a wife that was already dead in all but the legal sense, and a son that had tormented a woman to suicide, abducted his childhood friend, and had blown himself into little bloody bits in the abandoned mine shafts below the Grimrock.

Not exactly an easy life.

Alan sighed heavily and slowly opened his eyes, staring at the light of his computer screen for what felt like the millionth hour that day, his gaze focusing on the lone email open on the taskbar. He stared at it for, what also felt, like the millionth hour since he had received it in his inbox a few days ago, reading and re-reading the words that he already knew by rote now.

Chief Bloomgate,

Further to our last correspondence, it should be presumed that all of your digital activities, and those of your Department as a whole, are being intercepted. As such, we can no longer provide assistance or instruction in the matter of the above mentioned case.

Until informed otherwise, you and your Department have been recused from the case and are to cease all investigations into the asset immediately.

We will be made aware should any new intelligence come into your possession tangentially, and will provide further direction as such intelligence dictates.

We thank you for your compliance in this matter.

The letter was signed with the customary signature that all of his communications with the Bureau had been, and he stared at it dully as his head began to throb.