Sonatorrek: Lokasenna - 10

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

WARNING: MATURE SUBJECT MATTER

Kane finds more bodies associated with his killer, but it doesn't seem to get him any closer. Amanda, following the pattern, has a different idea of helping.



"Agent Kane. You're in here late."

"Hey Doc." Garrison looked up from the stack of files in the general office of the hospital's morgue. He'd asked for a series of investigation reports from different jurisdictions to be sent to him, and was now cross referencing them with the internal reports. "Another victim?"

"Fortunately, no. Just some paperwork." Blake said, and took a seat across from him. He tilted his head to read the name on the file folder and shook his head. "Laney Doxstader. Ugly business, that one."

"Yeah." Kane hadn't dwelled on the detailed photos, preferring the analytical space that the official write up provided. "Never any leads on her murder?"

"No. Not that they really tried." Drew took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Everyone knew that she'd sometimes sell it to the truckers coming through the stop. When she turned up, general consensus was that she chose a bad one and they were halfway across the country by now. Arnie would have made it a bigger issue, but it was the state troopers case. They don't have a lot of time for half-breed bastards who they've already labeled whores."

"Did you know her?"

"Yeah. A little. I've got a place about fifteen minutes past the truck stop. Used to stop in for coffee, got to chatting a little." He pulled his glasses back on. "I liked Laney. She got dealt a pretty shitty hand, but didn't let it stop her. Wanted to move to Chicago, go to college. She wasn't blowing truckers to shoot shit up her arm; she was doing it to get out. Maybe someone didn't like that."

"And they just dropped the case, basically." Kane dropped the file back on to the stack. He shouldn't have been surprised; the FBI more than any group knew that law enforcement was especially susceptible to local prejudice, but the idea of just writing off a body bothered him. "Did they even look at the scarring on the body?"

"The investigating officer decided that it was caused either by a struggle or when she was moved to the clearing where she was murdered. It was discounted as material to the investigation." Doctor Blake picked up his coffee cup and saluted him. "Welcome to the sticks, Agent Kane."

"You tried to have this case pushed up to the state level. And this one. Tanya Panin. But you withdrew them both at the same time. Why?"

Drew took a long sip from his mug, eying Kane over the rim. Finally, he set it down on the desk. "I had been sleeping with Tanya for over a year. I was told if I kept pushing it, I would be the number one suspect in both killings."

"Jesus, Doc." Kane sat back, floored by the confession and the cynical attempt to quash the case.

"There aren't a lot of secrets in a small town, Garrison. Tanya worked a couple of summers here at the hospital. Her mom had taken off when she was a kid and her dad died not long after she finished high school. She talked about trying to get into nursing, maybe go to school in Minneapolis." His eyes dropped to his desk, unfocusing as he talked. "She came over to dinner one night, wanted to talk about a recommendation. Ended up leaving the next morning."

"I take it that it wasn't taken well around here."

"My wife and I had only separated a few months prior. Naturally, Tanya was blamed for it. After a while, living here got too hard, too... poisonous. She needed better marks to get into the nursing program, so I helped her with courses in the city, so she only had to put up with the shit here on the weekends. I figured that would help the rumours die down." He had gotten very still, his voice soft. "One Friday, she stopped to fill up and bought a Diet Coke at a gas station. Her car was found parked at a rest stop six miles down the highway and her body in the woods. The official report is that she stopped and left the car of her own free will, indicating that whoever killed her either knew her well enough that she trusted leaving the vehicle or that there was a ruse; someone saying they needed help to lure her out. The only case in almost fifteen years in the area that I was not the attending medical examiner."

Kane groped to find his voice. He'd assumed there was a connection; especially to the killer he sought. He wasn't prepared to be facing the victim's boyfriend.

"Shit, Doc, I'm sorry. I just-"

"You didn't know, Agent Kane." The doctor shook himself, and picked up his coffee. "I want you to be right, you know. I want there to be some sick fuck behind all of this that we can bury in a prison to rot. What hurts me the most is that it isn't something evil and sick behind it. That someone saw a pretty indian girl and the opportunity to rape and butcher her because they knew they could get away with it. That no one would give a shit. And if that is what happened, they were right." He rubbed his hand over his face and got up. "Good hunting, Agent Kane. I have some work to do."

Garrison sat for a long time after Dr. Blake had gone. He hadn't been prepared for the admission by the doctor, and it had shaken him. Every page he turned seemed to uncover a little bit more of a profoundly strange situation, at the mercy of something ruthless and cruel. It was as if it was infecting them slowly, seeping the town in the same darkness and twisting it.

He stopped by the diner, ordering mechanically, and pulled into the motel. Jane Foster was sitting on a lawn chair beside the stairs up, texting away on her phone.

"Hey G-Man. I saw an old James Cagney movie where he was calling the Feds G-Men and thought of you. I know, you probably have already heard that joke." She said rapid-fire, still typing into her phone.

"A couple of times." Kane paused, taking a seat on the steps next to her. "Looks like you have urgent business."

"Yeah, so Connie Lessips older sister Jessie got knocked up by her boyfriend in Milwaukee, and she's been all, like, what are we going to do, and he's just been, you know, get rid of it because I'm already sleeping with someone else and we're done. And her dad came to help her move and punched him out when he came by. What a prick."

"Wow. That's, uh, complicated."

"Whatever. The guy was always a loser. Everyone told her but this was her big rebellion. I'm surprised it took this long." Jane put down her phone and grinned at him. "Yeah, I know, what a bitch, right?"

"I don't tend to expect empathy from teenagers."

"It's just so stupid. I mean, I get wanting to do your own thing, but you don't have to be an idiot about it. If you want to sleep with a loser photographer whose only exhibit was at a coffee bar to build your identity, at least make him wear a condom." She rolled her eyes.

"No loser photographers for you?"

"Artists don't impress me." She replied, with a fake haughty tone. "I plan to go to college, then med school, and make, like, a bazillion dollars curing cancer. Then I can make guys do whatever I want if they want to get into my pants; three condoms, shave their heads, bring me tacos."

Kane laughed, for a brief moment setting aside the thoughts that raced endlessly around his head. "Yeah, I bet you will. I know a girl that has a headstart on you on the whole curing cancer thing, so you're going to have to hurry."

"Oh, secret girlfriend?"

"You know I'm saving myself for you."

"Shut up." She shoved his shoulder. "I'm serious."

"No. I've been single for a while. My last relationship didn't work out."

"Was she a bitch? Because, seriously, it's always the guy is an idiot or a loser or the girl is a bitch. And I don't think you're an idiot or a loser."

"No, she wasn't a bitch. At least, not that often. She was smart, beautiful, and rich."

"I see why you dumped her." Jane deadpanned.

"Thanks. The truth is that if I'd trusted her more, we might still be together. So, I guess I get the idiot tag, kid."

"Don't call me kid." Her phone buzzed and she picked it up. "Don't feel too bad. Jessie wants to name it Dodge if it's a boy and, ugh, Germany if it's a girl. You're not that much of an idiot at least."

"Thanks Jane." He left her to her texting and climbed the stairs to reach his room. Jane had distracted him for the moment, but the thoughts came crashing back as soon as he'd stood up.

Kane stopped outside his motel door and leaned on it, breathing deeply. He could feel the dark claws in his skull, pricking at him. The two bodies had hit him hard, and he was starting to have to admit to himself that that the cases where affecting him. Even Jane’s cheery greeting hadn’t touched him for more than a moment. He looked at the takeout meal in his hand and then shoved it into the garbage next to him. He didn’t want food.

He unlocked the door and stepped in, for a second moving towards his gun when he noticed the light was on, but stopped as he saw who was sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed watching television.

"Heya," was Amanda's greeting as the door opened. "I let myself in. Hope you don't mind."

"Yeah, don't worry about it." He said, somewhat flatly. The local channel was playing old videos, as the sounds of 'Superstition' came through softly. He sunk into a chair, eyes tracking the television but not at all focused on it. "Anything more about Don? Please tell me he's not really Thor."

"To quote Doug and one of those meme things of his, 'All signs point to yes'," Amanda replied wryly, watching him carefully. "You look wrecked, Gar."

"I've got a serial killer heading for a town where a god hangs out." He motioned to the walls, now festooned by clippings, notes and pictures. Kane would stalk around them, considering each incident from every angle he could think of. The problem was that he he was but there was one piece missing that would put it all together. He could see the shape of it in his mind.

"And how much use is that brain of yours going to be on no sleep, hmm?" was Amanda's reply. "Trust me, Gar, I work for the League of Workaholics and I've seen this before." She got up from the bed and moved to behind his chair, hands sliding down to knead his shoulders. "Take a break for an hour, get out of your head. You'll feel better for it."

"And he gets to add another body to the count. That's what the powers are for, Amanda." He said, although didn't stop her hands. His whole body seemed to ache none stop these days. He could remember the last time he felt so physically tired since the onset of his powers. "What about the symbols on the door. You found out what they mean? I think the killer has some kind of connection with all this Asgard stuff - or at least thinks he does. Like he's doing a ritual or something?"

"The runes on your door spelled out a word in ancient Norse, 'Blót'," Amanda replied, her hands moving up to work on the pressure points in his neck. "Someone wants to tie you in on all this, but I can't figure out where this killer of yours is connected to Blake. There's no pattern that I can find."

"So what does that mean if he is Thor? Shouldn't he be making thunder happen in Asgard or something?" The problem with magic is that every explanation made things weirder and less comprehensible.

"We didn't see him in Asgard while we were there, so it's possible he was here all the time. Who knows with gods? Maybe he wanted to slum it as a human." Amanda dug her fingers into the tense muscles of Garrison's neck, working on tendons that were as taut as steel cables. "I'm working on figuring out a way to send him back, if it is him, but I don't have the juice for it out here."

"So, what does that make me then? This blah whatsit?"

Her hands paused as she considered her answer. Garrison was stung tighter than a violin string and telling him he might be a sacrificial lamb probably wouldn't make his paranoia any better. "It makes you a focal point. Which means if we keep an eye on you, we're likely to find out who's pulling the strings here."

"What do you need from me? Anything we can do to find these assholes sooner, I'm up for."

"Try not to disappear abruptly?" She resumed the massage. "Actually, I can probably get Angie to put a tracking rune on you, if that's okay. Not as cute as the beaver, but it wouldn't last any way, with your powers."

"Whatever you think is best. I'm so out of my depth with the magic angle that I can see deep sea life right now." Kane closed his eyes, wondering whether or not sleep was a good idea, but the images were there waiting for him. He'd seen violence before, but he just couldn't distance himself this time for some reason.

She gave a low, wry chuckle. "Welcome to my world, Gar." She kept working on his neck, hoping she could get him to at least rest. "Well, not the whole Norse god thing... actually, yeah, even with the whole Norse god thing. Our lives are so fucked up sometimes. But we'll get this sorted."

"Yeah, the question is how many more people get killed before we figure this out. I'm not even sure I care about Thor any more. I know he's not the one hunting innocent people."

Right. That. Amanda sighed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the top of his head, sliding her hands around to his chest. "You'll stop him," she said softly. "And we'll help you."

"We'll see." He replied, about as far from his normal optimism that someone could get.

"We will." She tightened her arms around him slightly, the flat tone of his voice bothering her more than she wanted to admit. Garrison wasn't doing so well and possibly hadn't been for a while. "You won't be alone with this."

"Yeah, I doubt that's anything you can change." Kane said, getting up and breaking her casual hold on him.

Or so he intended - instead she tightened her hold on him, keeping him in the chair. "Well, I can change one thing," she said, moving around and straddling his lap. "You need to relax. And I know how to do it."