Page 3 of Outrun The Devil
It was a reminder of the fragility of existence, a stark contrast to the vibrant and bustling world outside the crime scene tape. Olivia had developed a coping mechanism to keep her composure intact, but the smell always managed to stir a flicker of unease deep within her. It was a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface, a reminder that evil could strike anywhere, at any time.
The loss of life hung over the scene like a misty fog, chilling her to the bone. Her eyes mapped out each detail, a discarded bowl with half-eaten cereal and a spoon on the counter. A book thrown down in anger next to an armchair and a tissue box for when we cry ourselves to sleep at night alone. Everything told its tale.
One uniformed officer nudged his colleague, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Watch this,” he whispered, making sure his companion was paying attention.
It had become somewhat of a routine for them, finding amusement in observing how Detective Olivia Collins conducted her initial scan of a crime scene. And without fail, there was always a skeptic among their ranks, someone who doubted her unique approach. And unique was certainly the word for it.
Detective Collins guarded her visions with utmost secrecy, keeping them hidden from prying eyes and curious minds.
It was a clandestine aspect of her life that she shared with only one person she trusted implicitly: her captain. In a profession where trust was a rare and precious commodity, their bond ran deep, forged through years of shared experiences and unwavering loyalty.
Once, it had been her partner who had stood by her side, serving as a confidant and companion. But life had a way of altering the course of destiny, and circumstances had led them down divergent paths. Yet, the connection between Olivia and her captain endured, their unspoken understanding serving as a silent testament to the unbreakable trust they held for one another.
He’d become like family, in truth. Olivia wasn’t sure what she’d do without his guidance, or what her daughter would do without him as her father figure. Gratitude didn’t begin to cover how she felt.
Olivia moved around the room slowly, taking time to study each feature like an artist examining their subject before beginning a new work.
Her eyes traced over the grooves in the wood floor, feeling the marks left by struggle.
“The victim and killer struggled here.”
“How can you tell?” an officer asked, the skeptic.
“Years of experience,” Olivia answered finally. “But see these grooves on the floor.” She pointed to them so that the officer would see what she meant. “They are irregular and disjointed.”
“And?”
The skeptic officer, his arms crossed over his chest, leaned in closer, determined to find flaws in Olivia's approach. He had seen it all before, or so he believed. His skepticism was met with raised eyebrows from his colleague, who had witnessed the astonishing accuracy of Olivia's investigative prowess.
“It’s a typical pattern I often see with forceful and uncontrolled movement. Not something you’d normally see with day-to-day wear and tear.”
The officer nodded as if the wheels in his head were trying to make sense of it.
“And see here, where the groove is wider than this one here.” She moved the chair a few feet from her. “Notice how the groove from the chair is smaller, skinnier, almost like a scratch.”
“But the groove from the struggle isn’t, I see.”
Deeper and wider grooves signify a greater impact or pressure applied to the floor, indicating a significant physical force exerted during the struggle. Olivia returned to the grooves, tracing her fingers along them once more.
For that moment, Olivia experienced what it was like to be this woman: seeing your blood spurt from your body because someone else wanted to hurt you badly.
The pain had been blinding and consuming, leaving little space for thought, but Olivia could sense through the haze images of a young man with a troubled past who was desperate for money and took advantage of this woman's trust.
The perpetrator had wielded a knife, slashing wildly as the victim fought back. The struggle had ended with a final blow, the knife sinking deep into the victim's chest.
As a mother, Olivia empathized with the victim's family and recoiled at the imagined ordeal her own daughter could face. Amidst the overwhelming sadness, she pondered the motives that drove the perpetrator to such desperate actions, even at the cost of someone else's life. Her heart was pained as conflicting emotions tugged at her. Her compassionate understanding of him warring against her duty as a law enforcement officer.
The conflicting emotions weighed heavily on her as she returned from her vision, feeling guilty for knowing the perpetrator but unsure if there was enough evidence to hold him accountable.
She remembered when she first decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. Back when she was fresh out of high school and pregnant, with blemished prospects of getting into college.
It was her mother who encouraged her to take the dare and apply to the police academy. But Olivia never expected that one day she would be asked to make decisions that mattered between right and wrong.
Once Olivia Collins realized her unique skill, she was hit with a wave of conflicting emotions. On one hand, she felt strangely blessed to be able to utilize this special power to solve hard cases. But at the same time, it brought with it a colossal weight of responsibility and risk. One she had to bear alone due to her refusal of a partner that her captain had pushed on her.
She had flashes and dreams of what seemed like magic, although she couldn't bring herself to believe in such things. With each new case, the sense of unease grew stronger—the possibility that somebody may discover her abilities hovered over her every move.
The feeling of dread left a bitter taste in her mouth as she tried to balance work and motherhood simultaneously. She thought back to those moments when it all clicked into place, wishing there was another way out of this convoluted web instead of the path that lay ahead.