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It wasn’t often that Klavier questioned witnesses outside of the detention center, but this was a special case. The man he’d come to this rather posh looking house for was easily offended and, more importantly, had a lot of influence. Arresting him or making it clear that he was under suspicion would likely lead to sealed lips and unpleasant consequences. It was for this reason, in fact, that Klavier had decided to question him alone. Bringing an armed squad and a grumpy detective with a gun would probably be extremely suspicious.
He still brought them of course, they just wouldn’t be going in with him.
“You wait here, Fräulein Detective. I’ll try to see what I can wring out of him on my own.”
Detective Skye just popped a Snackoo in her mouth and waved dismissively at him.
“Yeah yeah, I’ve got it already.” She fixed him with a fierce glare. “You’d better not mess it up.”
It would have been intimidating if she wasn’t twenty centimeters shorter than him with crumbs around her mouth.
Klavier turned on the voice recorder hidden in his pocket and nodded.
“I’ll call you when I’m done,” Klavier replied.
The questioning went surprisingly well. The man gave his alibi quite easily, and Klavier suspected it was due in part to the rock star persona. No one takes rock stars seriously, unfortunately.
“I just have one last question for you.” Klavier leaned in slightly and flashed a disarming grin. “Where did you get that lovely painting behind your desk from?”
The question was a trap. The painting belonged to the victim, and no proof of a transaction had been found. Not only that, but there was an unusual shape to the blood stain at the crime scene, as if the blood was stopped by the corner of something large and rectangular. Hopefully, the man would slip up enough that Klavier would have enough grounds to arrest him on.
Unfortunately, the man seemed to realize this as well.
He froze and stared at Klavier, hostility growing in his gaze.
Klavier tried to look as innocent as possible and mentally kicked himself. He’d messed up. He’d pushed him too far.
Before he could even register what was happening, Klavier felt a horrible, intrusive, sharp pain in his side. He looked down to find a knife sticking out of his abdomen. The pain doubled as soon as he caught sight of his wound, and suddenly it was extremely difficult to keep his balance. Klavier stumbled back and crashed against the wall, sliding down as his vision swam.
The man leered over him.
“You should have brought back-up,” he sneered, before turning and leaving the room.
Ah, but he had. Not that he would tell the man that. Klavier shakily took his phone from his pocket and dialed the detective’s number.
“Hello, Fräulein? The suspect has escaped and is most likely heading outside. I have sufficient grounds to arrest and charge him on, so if you please… Thank you.”
He could manage on his own. No need to distract her from her duty, he thought.
And then he blacked out.
Just as Gavin had said, the man came sauntering out not long after the call ended. He stopped in his tracks, clearly shocked, but recovered quickly and broke into a run. He was no match for five police officers though, and was apprehended quickly.
“You’re under arrest, sir,” Ema began, “You have the right to remain-”
That’s when she noticed the blood on his hand.
Ema felt her stomach drop.
“You two, take the suspect to the Detention Center. You three, secure the perimeter. I’ll be right back.”
The police officers saluted, and jumped into action.
Please be all right, Gavin, she thought as she ran towards the house. I may hate you, but I don’t want to see you hurt.
Ema shoved the doors to the suspect’s office open and strode inside.
“Hey, you glimmerous fop, are you in here?”
Ema scanned the room. She almost missed Gavin, he was lying so still, but there he was, crumpled up in the corner of the room. Ema gasped audibly and rushed to where he lay.
The first thing she noticed was the phone still in his hand. The second thing she noticed was the knife protruding from his side.
She knelt by his side and shook him gently.
“Gavin? Prosecutor Gavin?”
He didn’t respond. Ema fought back her growing dread, and began fumbling with his wrist, willing her shaking hands to still for a moment so she could do this properly. For a few terrifying seconds she feared the worst, but she soon felt a faint pulsing under her fingers.
Relief crashed over her. He was still alive, thank goodness, but her relief was quickly eroded away as she looked down and once again caught sight of the blade glinting in his side.
Ema could feel her breath starting to quicken at a startling pace, and she forced herself to take deep breaths in and out. She was trained for this. She needed to be strong. Panicking wasn’t going to help either of them, so she needed to keep her breathing under control, but-
This scene was so familiar.
The office, the prosecutor, the stab wound, the smell of blood, the feeling of helplessness.
She shook her head. No; this time was different. This time she could do something.
She whipped out her phone and immediately called for an ambulance. The call was over quickly, and she began to feel a little calmer. The paramedics would be there soon, they’d said. Ema brought the cellphone from her ear and tried to figure out what to do next. Clearly she shouldn’t take the knife out; that would only cause more bleeding. She glanced back down at Gavin’s head in her lap and froze. His eyes were cracked open just the slightest bit, and his lips were moving feebly, as if he was attempting to speak.
“K-Klavier!” she exclaimed, half in shock and half in relief.
“S…Skye…?” he replied. His voice was small and hoarse, and for once Ema missed the bravado and charm it normally carried.
She forced back the urge to just grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
“What were you thinking! Tell me if something’s happened to you next time.” If there was a next time. Tears began to blur her vision, and she quickly blinked them back.
“But..” Gavin started, “But he would’ve gotten away.”
When he spoke, Ema vaguely noticed the over the top German accent had been replaced by a much more natural sounding German twang.
“You did get him, right?”
Ema huffed indignantly. “Of course I did. But even if I hadn’t, who cares! Do you really think that’s more important than your own life?”
“Maybe.”
His eyes started to flutter shut, and Ema could feel herself beginning to panic again.
Shoot, what was it she was supposed to do in situations like this? Usually in the dramas she watched, the characters would try to keep the injured party talking and conscious, and she didn’t know what else to do, so she decided to go with that.
“Klavier, can you hear me? I need you to stay with me, okay? I don’t need another prosecutor dying on me.”
Gavin appeared to have great difficulty forcing his eyes open, and yet still managed a confused frown.
“Another prosecutor?”
Normally, she wouldn’t be comfortable talking about this kind of thing, but it was a way to keep him focused, and it had presented itself as a topic of conversation so easily. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, the saying went, so Ema took her chance.
“Haven’t you heard of the SL-9 case?” she asked.
“SL-9…” he muttered, before a look of realization dawned on his face. “Niel Marshall, Damon Gant, and Lana …Skye.”
“Yes, you idiot,” said Ema, finding she had reverted to her usual way of addressing him. “What, did you think the names Lana and Ema Skye were a coincidence?”
Gavin actually let out a small chuckle at that.
“I don’t remember much of that case at all. I was studying overseas at the time.” He paused to lick his lips before adding, “And I was only fifteen when it happened.”
“So was I,” she replied.
Silence filled the air for a bit, as Gavin struggled to come up with a response to that, before simply saying, “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” was all she said.
“Your sister?” he asked after another small silence. His energy was definitely flagging, but he seemed to be making a great effort to keep himself lucid, and was actually very impressively successful so far.
“She was released two years ago, and is living a quiet, happy life where no one knows her name.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said, and Ema knew he was thinking of his own brother.
“The paramedics should be here soon,” she said, in an attempt to steer the conversation from any more uncomfortable subjects.
“That’s also good to hear,” he said. Ema briefly wondered how he was actually able to hold a pleasant (-ish) conversation with so much pain and blood loss. Perhaps he was more temperate than he let on. She didn’t have much time to linger on it though, as the paramedics showed up at almost that exact moment.
Gavin was moved to a stretcher, and Ema followed as they wheeled him out of the room and towards the ambulance. The medics bustled around, making a few more preparations before the brought him inside, and Ema took the opportunity to make her way to Gavin’s side. She hesitated; then took his hand and gently squeezed it in what she hoped was a reassuring way. He looked at her and smiled.
“Thank you for everything, Ema.”
Ema’s stomach lurched. Those sounded too much like words of farewell to her, and she was once again struck by a deep-seated feeling of dread. As she stood trying to calm her racing heartbeat, the ambulance crew rushed over, apparently finally ready to take him in. Gavin patted her hand lightly, and she looked back down, meeting his eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, “I’ll live.” And he was whisked away.
Typical Gavin. He was the one bleeding out, and yet it was he that was comforting her.
This is why she hated that glimmerous fop.