Carver

Chapter One- Waking the Demon

The shrill sound of ringing echoed around the bedroom. Aubergine coloured curtains blew inwards from the open windows above the double bed. One would be forgiven for thinking that the room was empty, if it was not for the mound in the bed that was breathing deeply and quietly. The room was still in darkness, the only visible light was coming from the digital alarm clock on the wooden bedside cabinet that read 03:09 am. The ringing continued, eliciting a groan of exasperation from the mound in the bed. A slender hand appeared from under the duvet that matched the curtains and felt around nearby to put an end to the shrieking. It took many attempts for the hand to find the offending object, including knocking various items off the bedside cabinet onto the hardwood floor. Sarah squinted at the brightness of her phone screen as she swiped to answer. She pressed the phone to her ear and tried to stifle a yawn.

“Carver”, she responded gruffly, rubbing her palm over her eyes.

“Sorry, boss. There’s been a body found at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. Suspected homicide,” came the anxious male voice on the other end of the phone. Waking up Supervisory Special Agent Sarah Carver was always a fate worse than death and everyone at the Brooklyn FBI Field Office always drew straws as to who would have to complete the deadly deed.

“Give me half an hour,” responded Sarah with a sigh as she hung up, ignoring the agent that quickly tried to say goodbye. Her arm dropped down onto the mattress with a thud. Sarah lay in her bed, staring up at the darker than dark ceiling, debating her life choices in that moment, and when murderers will let her get some god damned sleep.

Sarah twisted her body and reached over to her cabinet. She fumbled around for the switch for the small lamp that was situated just slightly to the rear. With a click, the lamp blinked on, casting a warm white glow around the room. Sarah threw back her duvet and swung her long lithe legs over the side. She glanced wearily at the cigarette in the ashtray that had burnt out halfway down and the unfinished glass of Scotch whiskey. Her head pounded with each heartbeat, pressure forming behind her eyes. Sarah ruffled her long red hair that hung down over her shoulders in messy waves as she slid open the drawer to her bedside cabinet and fished out a strip of Tylenol. She pressed two tablets out of the foil strip onto the top of the cabinet with a clatter and then threw the strip back into the drawer, slamming it shut. She carefully picked up the tablets and dropped them into the palm of her hand. She hastily threw them into her mouth and took a swig of the whiskey to wash them down. Sarah slid herself to her feet, the wood flooring cold against her bare soles. With her left palm pressed to her left eye to attempt to stem the blossoming pain, she made her way into her en suite bathroom. She turned on the water to heat up and dropped herself onto the toilet with a groan. She gently massaged her temples, her eyes pressed tightly shut to block out the light. The sound of the water crashing into the basin seemed amplified by the headache. Sarah shed her pyjama shorts and thin strapped vest and stepped into the shower, pulling the navy blue curtain around herself.

  Once she had scrubbed every inch of her pale skin, Sarah slid open the curtain and dragged a towel from the nearby rail into the cubicle with her, wrapping it around her torso. She slowly edged her way out, taking care not to slip on the tiled floor. She approached the sink and leaned against the cold ceramic. The mirror over her medicine cabinet which was fixed to the pastel blue wall directly in front of her had steamed up with condensation from the shower. Sarah wiped away a patch from the mirror, a distorted reflection staring back at her. Her hair, now dripping wet, hung over her shoulders and ran down into the towel. Her piercing green eyes were swallowed by dark shadows and her deep red eyebrows that matched her hair were knitted in a permanent frown. She turned on the cold water faucet and retrieved her blue toothbrush from the holder on the back of the basin. She briefly ran the toothbrush under the tap before turning the water off and squeezing some none-branded toothpaste onto it. After cleaning her teeth and spitting out the remnants of the foam from her mouth into the sink, she dropped her toothbrush back into the holder and grabbed another towel and wrapped it around her hair.

  Sarah returned to her bedroom with the towels still wrapped around her. She glanced around at her bedroom floor which was littered with dirty clothing that had missed the laundry bag, as well as items that had scattered from her bedside cabinet, namely framed photographs. One photograph showed a smiling Sarah with a handsome young man with curly blonde hair in front of a sunset. The other showed an Alsatian dog. Sarah crouched down and picked the photographs up. She stared at them sadly before setting them back down on the cabinet. She moved over to the large wooden chest of drawers that was near the doorway to the bathroom. She opened the top drawer, fishing out the first pair of briefs she could find and wriggling herself into them under the towel. Moving onto the next drawer, she grabbed the first bra she could find. Casting the towel to the floor that had been wrapped around her torso, she wrenched the sports bra over her head and down until it covered her breasts. She turned to her closet and threw the doors open with a sigh, realizing that she desperately needed to get a handle on her laundry when the case was over. She selected a black blouse with matching dress trousers and blazer. Sarah slung them onto her unmade bed and slammed the doors shut.  She turned, ruffling her hair with the towel and stepped closer to her bed. She threw herself down on the bed and grabbed the trousers. Lifting one leg at a time, she wrestled them on and fastened them at the waist.  Her eyes scanned the floor for her belt which was just visible under her violet shirt from the day before. Not bothering to get up, Sarah used her foot to slide the belt across the floor and pick it up. She threaded it through the loops on her trousers and buckled it. She came to her feet and dressed herself into her blouse, tucking it into her trousers. With a tie from around her right wrist, Sarah scraped her hair back into a messy ponytail, a few strands of soggy hair falling over her face which she pushed back over her ear. She hitched her blazer over her shoulders and hunted through the duvet for the phone that had disturbed her peaceful slumber.

  Sarah checked her watch as she made her way from her untidy bedroom into her equally untidy sitting room. Thirty minutes since she had said she would be at the office. She cursed inwardly at herself and at the new case which had awoken her. Sarah threw back her head and closed her eyes in despair at the fact that she would have to endure the generic coffee at the office instead of her own blend coffee as she had no time to make a new batch. She took her federal issue glock from the unit beside the front door to her apartment and attached it to her belt at her right hip, then attached her handcuffs to the back of her belt. She sat down on the brown leather sofa and pulled on a pair of mismatched socks and her black heeled leather boots. She slid her ID badge and FBI issue lanyard from the glass coffee table and slung it around her neck and pocketed her credentials. With another sigh, Sarah moved back to her front door and grabbed her car keys before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind her and making her way down the stairs to her black Suburban that was parked in the lot just outside of her apartment building.