Chapter Four Part Two
“Okay, people.” Kakashi addressed a room full of detectives. “We’re on the trail of a serial killer who not only killed six girls now, but one of our own detectives. That makes it seven - and that makes it personal.” He cast a glance about the room. Everyone had angry, determined looks on their faces. They were pissed. He discreetly stole a look at Sasuke; the detective’s eyes were closed, he was slumped over with his arms crossed; but Kakashi could tell from the way his brow was furrowed that he wasn’t asleep. He sighed and continued. “This is a blown-up map of East Tokyo,” he said, indicating the projection behind him, “The killer’s exclusive area. The black dots represent where all the victims lived; the white, where they worked; and the red, where they died.” Sasuke opened his eyes to slits to look at the drawing. There was now twenty-one dots. Including Sakura’s. He could see the red line, plain as day to those who noticed it, and glared at it. They had that cocksucker that day, if only he hadn’t of -
He sat up. Kakashi had taken their idea of the red line and was running with it. He was assigning patrol units to patrol that line twenty-four hours a day. He would be excluded and, although Kakashi certainly didn’t elaborate, he knew why. Everyone was feeling sorry for him, sorry he’d lost his partner, sorry he had no partner now. Sorry, sorry, sorry. How he hated that word. It could convey so much and yet mean so little. His expression tightened until he was glaring out into nothing and was unaware of it until Kakashi said, “Sasuke? Are you all right?” And he lifted his head, realizing the captain had been staring at him, and nodded shortly. The captain returned to his discussion.
His mind wandered - returned to the sixth grade teacher he’d met. Naruto... in his mind he pictured the timid, short blonde man. He thought about his large blue eyes, eyes that hid something, everything about him was the manner of hiding something, but for the life of him couldn’t figure out what. Obviously - obviously it had to be something about the murders, something about them... but what? There was no way - absolutely no way that that man could ever stomach a murder, much less commit himself. And the way they were committed... whoever did these was either strong or driven by an anger, a rage so strong it was an adrenaline that made him strike with fatal force. But if Naruto didn’t do it, if Naruto wasn’t the murderer, the one who killed Sakura, then who was? What would he be hiding? The real murderer, perhaps? But why... in a flash he thought of their previous conversation and his mention of Naruto living alone. What had Naruto’s reply been? No. Of course. His roommate - or whoever lived with him, whatever the relationship was - that was it, that was who the murderer was! He sprang from his chair, startling the whole room and every head turned to watch him flee, barely remembering to grab his jacket and muttered an apology as he slammed the door shut.
The room remained silent, puzzled, and then Kakashi sighed, shaking his head, and returned back to the discussion.
Sasuke was already in his car and driving before he glanced at the clock and swore - it was only noon, Naruto was still teaching. What school did he teach at? He paused, decided it didn’t matter, and drove to his home.
He reached the apartment house and parked a block down, just in case, and walked up to the building. He tried the front door; unlocked. So far so good. He went up the three levels until he reached Naruto’s door and listened carefully for anyone inside. It was complete silent. He tried the door; locked. Hell, he was a cop, he could figure this out; he looked around wildly, then at his feet, and knelt, lifting the mat at the door. Bingo. He grabbed the key and opened the door.
Inside was dark, much darker than it should’ve been, after all, it was noon - and realized that the culprits were dark, heavy curtains drawn over all the windows. He was puzzled. Unless Naruto didn’t like the daylight, which he didn’t think so, why...?
He continued his search. Everything was typical of a bachelor pad; one bed, one dresser filled with clothes, neatly folded; he figured Naruto must be one of those neat freaks. He checked the bathroom, going through the drawers. One toothbrush. One towel. One washcloth out - but wait. He glanced at the dirty clothes bin and realized something bright red was sticking out. He picked it up with his index finger and thumb. A blood-soaked rag. Frowning, he put it back and continued searching. A few pans; the cupboards held some healthy food, but mostly Ramen. He must really like Ramen, Sasuke thought. The sink yielded one bowl that hadn’t been washed, one pair of chopsticks lying on the counter. He checked the messages; none. He sighed, taking a brief pause. Nothing. Nothing to indicate a roommate or someone else living here at all. Perhaps it was one of those times when the roommate was living away...? He flipped through a notepad aside the phone. It, too, was blank. He opened the washer and dryer; empty. A basket of folded clothes was next to it and he went through that; he was about to give up when he froze. Something black. A shirt. He pulled it out, unfolded it, and stared at it. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly. It was the shirt - same exact shirt that one kid showed them at the Treasure Box. And it was ripped, too. He glanced around, then folded it and stuffed it into his jacket, then left quickly, locking the door after him and hiding the key back where he’d gotten it from, then got out of there.
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Chapter notes: Again, it's so short.... >