The Art of Being Right

The Next Job

Frank Murray's trial had just ended; he'd been sentenced to serve at least 25 years, but was expected to be behind bars for the rest of his life.

Wilson was pleased, the days after the arrest he spent a lot of time sleeping, hiding out in his apartment and just giving himself time to get back on his feet. Hart called every other day, as did McKein, and Jo checked in every few days. Maddy either called or texted every day.

A week after Murray was arrested, and Wilson was back at work, with the same spirit as usual. Things were pretty slow, and for the first few days he was trapped behind a desk with Hart and Jo, finishing up the stacks of paperwork that came with pretty much every case. Hart wanted to keep him doing desk work for a while, until he wasn't sure the young detective had bounced back from his exhaustion. Wilson hated being babied, but there was nothing he could say that would change Hart's mind.

Today was different though. It had been weeks since Wilson had come back to work, and thankfully Hart had taken him off desk duty and back to being out on the street with other officers. Hart had called him in early, asking him to meet him in his office before starting his shift. It couldn't have been anything to do with the previous case; everything had been wrapped up yesterday at the sentencing. Wilson was puzzled, with no idea on what could be so important.

He parked his Harley '84 Softail outside the block of offices and tucked his helmet under his arm, leaping up the stairs and making his way inside.

Hart was already there and waiting when Wilson reached his office door. The Superintendent was entirely concentrated on a folder in front of him, his brow creased in a mix of frustration and confusion. Wilson knocked and opened the door instantly, stepping around it and closing it behind him.

"Morning, Wilson."

"Sir." Wilson sat down in the empty seat opposite his boss, dropping his bike helmet next to his feet and leaning back into the chair.

"Sorry if it's early, but as you've probably guessed this is pretty important."

"Okay. So what's happened?" Hart closed the file he was reading slowly, as if he was scanning a few words one last time.

"A friend of mine, a Superintendent with another force, has asked for your help."

"My help? Me specifically?"

"You've got a reputation Wilson, people know you're a smart kid, you get results."

"I didn't know so many people knew about me." He chuckled, running one hand through his hair slowly.

"They've been working on a case for a few years now, no leads, no solid evidence. They're completely stumped."

"Where?"

"Little Wharton, it's a small town about three or four hours away. There's been a lot of disappearances in the area, around twenty five over the last seven years. There's been no explaining them, but it's started to get worse."

"Worse?"

Hart paused, breathing sharply before opening the file again and turning it to face the young detective. The picture in the top of the file made him want to throw up.

There was a body, or rather the remains of one, on a muddy forest floor. By the looks of it, the corpse was a man, maybe around mid-thirties. The look of terror on his face was still there, even though the body had begun to decompose. Wilson could only look at it for a few moments before turning away, holding a hand loosely over his mouth as he tried to push the image out of his head.

"One of the victims turned up. And it wasn't pretty." Hart looked remorseful, wringing his hands together slowly.

"So they want you to go over there, work with them for a couple of weeks and see if you can get them any closer to a solution."

Wilson nodded then gestured towards the file, "Can I?"

"By all means. You don't have to give me an answer now, just let me know before your shift finishes tonight then I can let Little Wharton know. Keep hold of the file, read up on it if you get a chance."

A/N: Thanks for reading this far, there's more parts that'll be up at some point so any comments are welcome :)