Colleano

Chapter Two

Johnson's waiting right outside the front door for me. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

I take the few stairs up to the front of the building, Johnson practically drags me by my arm inside.

Passing the front desk I give a small nod to McLaughlin, who seems to be thoroughly enjoying his afternoon, and he just rolls his eyes.

After getting dragged all through the department to get to our group of desks and offices in the rear, I shake off Johnson (he hardly notices, he's too enthralled) and drop down into the nearest seat. All of his excitement is wearing me down.

Johnson approaches, the rest of the team crowding behind him so they can take up shop in a chair. He plops down a weighty package onto the table right in front of me.

The box is roughly a square foot, the bottom edges seem to be a bit soggy like it's contents had been positively soaked.

"What the hell is that," I asked Johnson, staring at the box, trying to guess what the bloody fuck was in it. I should've figured it out by now, I'm just slow today. He just looked smug, pleased.

"Open it up and find out." You can hear the smile in his voice.

I scoot my chair up to the table and reach forward, sliding the box over to myself, leaving a sweaty trail behind it. Gross.

Lifting up the lid was easy, Johnson apparently couldn't wait until I was here to open it, probably because he loves knowing things I don't. It's a rarity, that.

The package is lined with newspaper and filled partway with ice. Something is protruding from the middle.

I glance up at Johnson, he gives a curt nod and I pull the item from the ice in the box.

It's crudely wrapped, thanks to Johnson. No, most likely it was Chad. Johnson wouldn't mess with anything unless I were around, a while back he contaminated some evidence and I called him on it. Ever since then he has someone else from the team do things for him so I can't pin shit on him. Smart man. Even though I know this is still his doing.

I carefully unfold the plastic wrap and set it on the table beside the box. Gingerly peeling the damp cloth off, revealing a tongue.

And not a pig tongue that you could buy at some freaky butcher shop, a real tongue. One that formerly belonged to a human, not some animal.

Just lovely.

I place the tongue back on the table and scoot my chair out.

Johnson looks confused. How adorable.

Walking up to the officer, I pull aside his jacket and reach into the inner pocket, satisfied at finding what I expected.

Johnson backs off abruptly, looking at me in shock as if I violated him.

I reveal to him the two pens I just took from him, he always keeps a couple pens in with his little notepad.

I return to my seat, and uncap the pens. I pull out the ink cartridges and toss them onto the table away from the box. One of them rolls off of the table. Couldn't care less right now.

I use the empty casings to turn over the tongue.

It creates a distinct meaty thud on the cloth and there were a few distinct groans of disgust, and Chad drags his chair across the floor to get a better look at it, taking an interest. The metal legs screeching across the floor is such a horrid sound.

Just by seeing the sheer length of the tongue, in order to have gotten this clean of a cut, the man's jaw would have to have been broken and pulled down flesh against his neck. Well it would have made the endeavor much easier anyway.