The week went quickly.
Synchro informed David Finestra of his decision and was welcomed aboard.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting himself into. He couldn’t read his own future like he could everyone else’s but because he saw Cindy’s long future being with him, he was fairly confident nothing fatal would happen to either of them.
Synchro made phone connection on the third note of his ring-tone.
“We picked up Ryan Sturges for drink-driving. We can’t place him near the crime scene. His alibi’s too convincing. We have to release him soon. Can you come in and, do your magic?”
At the station formalities were rushed through.
Synchro stood behind a two-way mirror studying the suspect. A bubble of white light formed around Ryan. A movie-like visualisation began in Synch’s mind’s eye. He had no control over the content.
He told David every detail of the movie.
Ryan walked along an old suburban street eyes narrowed scanning front doors. He stopped and opened a squeaky iron gate looking left and right along the street. No sign of life. He knocked on the front door. There was no security door.
“Yes? What do you want,” said the short grey haired lady.
Ryan didn’t speak. He shoved the door and the lady out of his way. She fell back hitting the floor. He slammed the door shut.
“Get out! I have no money,” she said struggling to her feet. “Get out.”
He checked all the rooms. In the kitchen a younger woman stood up and screamed when she saw the older one limping, screaming at the man.
“Shut up!” he roared at them.
They ignored him and kept screaming.
He grabbed the long bladed knife from the scarred wooden cutting board.
“Shut up!” he roared again and lunged at the old lady’s neck. The knife sank deep. She collapsed.
The younger woman was hysterical. Ryan lunged again. She fell beside the other one. Blood from their necks pooled together as the veil of death enveloped them.
Synchro closed his eyes, massaged his temples and breathed slow and deep.
“You’re doin’ fine,” said David.
Ryan sat at the table in the mirrored interview room.
The bubble formed around the murderer again as Synch resumed.
Ryan snatched up a tea-towel and wiped the handle of the knife thoroughly. He dropped the knife and towel and put his hands in his unzipped jacket pockets. He calmly stared at the bodies then hurried to the front door. With hand covered he opened the door and casually left.
Synchro kept watching.
Ryan was back at the house where they’d observed him packing his car months before.
Inside he sat in a lounge chair and picked up a hand rolled cigarette.
“There’s a woman asleep on the settee,” said Synchro. “She’s, out cold. Not aware of Ryan’s presence at all.”
Synch closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
“Can I stop now?” He’d had enough. The movie was re-running in his mind. “I’m not sure I can do this all the time.”
“If it’s any consolation, there’s more robberies than murders,” the detective said. He purposely with-held the fact that a lot were violent. He hoped Synch couldn’t read his mind.
“Your description fits the crime scene perfectly,” said David deliberately encouraging Synch.
“That’s all for today,” said David.
“Will it help you get a conviction?” Synch hoped viewing the grizzly homicide was not a futile exercise.
“Yeah. The information is invaluable,” said David.
Synch was pale.
“Go home,” said David.
Synch walked out as if he’d been camera-man of the most chilling crime reality TV show imaginable.
How could he get his head around the horror?
By Diane L Wood
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
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