Pilot

It was a red Saturday night in Boston, Massachusetts, and nothing and no one could have ever seen it coming. Some elegant oak seats belonging to an ocean-view restaurant had multiple splatters of a crimson liquid on it. The Sheriff Jefferson Walsh and his deputy Nolan Foster strode into this Victorian styled restaurant with faltering steps. They didn't have to be told. This sizeable dining room would begin what was going to be the most talked-about mystery in the county for a long time. Five people had died in the most gruesome manner. All were members of the city council and they had just been murdered.

Jefferson Walsh had a torch in one gloved hand and a biohazard zipper bag in the other. He was making a case. So far, there was nothing much to see, only a brutal tragedy and an undeniable dead end. He kept trying his best to picture the scene. Walsh shot desperate glances towards the entrance occasionally. He began picturing Emery Burke walking in with her usual polished stern face and higher than ever heels. She would always be in the lead, nothing less. Emery owned a residential high-rise downtown and with eight years of experience on the council seat, she garnered popularity with her fight against corrupt leadership. An amazing woman who forgot how to live. She was survived by no one.

A charming Joseph Barros would be next by the Sheriff's guess. If you could count how many times this name grazed media channels for infidelity, the world would be over already. He hunted women for leisure and the only unlucky prey was his dear wife Madison Barros, the third and most beautiful member of the council. Rumours had it that the lady descended from a lineage of beauty queens. Her pretty face had been torn open, though. Walsh winced. He couldn't help but remember the Barros twins who would be waiting at home for parents they would never again see.

Ted Mahoney was the sharpest mind in the row. A sixty-year-old tech genius sporting a silver goatee that was currently soaked in his own blood. Ted lay lifeless on his belly, beneath the round table that held their cold and untouched dinner. Dead brown eyes held Walsh' gaze insufferably and the sheriff couldn't fight the shiver. There was a ninety percent chance that he had showed up before Chad Powers, the business mogul. Either way, all five of them were inside and Walsh still had to figure out why. He needed to piece together the identity of who they dined with in secret and at such odd hour.

Nolan Foster searched the remaining parts of the small building with two others from the Sheriff's office. He couldn't bear to be at the main point of the crime scene. It was his first rodeo after being appointed a fortnight ago and he struggled to remain sangfroid. The wheels in his head ran like chariots on their way to war. He flipped through images from the scanty lot to the empty building, to focus on the softness of the melancholic tones playing from a vinyl record like an ode to the five dead. He saw nothing but a blank space. The blackout didn't affect the antique turntable; it's battery lived.

It was a clean crime, Nolan reasoned.

"It's locked," the first officer said, his voice gruff and strained like a taut rope. Nolan's attention piqued at once. He moved forward to work the men's bathroom door handle, but it wouldn't budge.

He didn't need to speak; the second officer had already dashed off to find a key or something to break it open. In those brief minutes, the faint clicking sounds of Nolan's lighter distracted the background music. He thought about a fact that he had always known and his uncle came to mind. Marcel Knight was the mayor of Boston city and blood wasn't the only thing relating him to the deputy Sheriff. The mayoral elections drew nearer and now the entire council had supposedly been murdered. There was a link that Nolan refused to admit at that moment.

A while ago, the sheriff's department had come running to a neighbourhood disturbance report. It was an anonymous call and there was no way to determine what had caused the blackout in the city. A dispatch team of four drove past the deadbeat streets leading to Carson beach totally unprepared. Nolan and his chief had only arrived half an hour later, right after their subordinates had briefed them on the situation. This incident was to be confidential—at least, at first, that had been the plan since Pulse wasn't ready to drag its name in the mud. The last thing this five star establishment needed was the press and paparazzi hovering about.

Nolan flexed his wrist; a minute more to two am. He had promised Isla he wouldn't stay out long. Her bump had kicked that evening and he understood his sister would need him to be home, but then, the deputy sheriff was facing a more pressing matter at hand. Nolan could hear frantic breathing behind the panel door. The second officer had heard it too, and he was by the door, cheek against the wood, listening in.

Tensed, Nolan reached for his Glock 47. He was standing a few feet back and signalled to the first officer on their next line of action. Somehow, Nolan could also hear a heartbeat thrumming faster than time. He was certain. There was someone in there, possibly another victim or, better still, their grim reaper.

The second officer returned in time and Nolan nodded his approval as soon as he saw the key in her hand. She began turning the lock noiselessly, and only the final click would have given them away. When the bathroom came into full view, Nolan's jaw loosened at once. It felt like he had stepped into a slaughterhouse, but the wrong one. Some rabid pig had just encountered a slow and painful death and there was not a single tile without a blood stain or puddle. The walls, sink, and towels were all lined with blood. It was like art, dark art. The Deputy Sheriff and his team gaped in horror when they saw.

There was a woman standing by the far end, flanking a particular stall. She appeared dazed and her pupils dilated in epic proportions. Nolan could tell that she was young and lost, but the used dagger in her hands kept saying otherwise. There was an instinct to protect within. It urged him on. His mind strangely wanted him to believe that the killer could be somewhere else and not in front of them.

Meanwhile, the second officer had already flashed her touch around, and stabbed the unknown woman's face with her light.

"Drop your weapon," she said, and moved forward. "Your hands, put them where I can see them. Now!"

The command brought the suspect back to life. Nolan watched fear charge into her eyes. There was something not right about the situation; her clothes had no stain. Not a single drop of blood was on her skin or clothes. The white silk nightgown draping mid-thigh confused the hell out of Nolan. The woman appeared like she had been cut out from the shoot of a wedding night scene. He couldn't put together why she was here, standing in the most incriminating position.

She began trembling the next second. The bloody weapon fell to the ground as a result and the second officer wasted no time in ceasing her. Nolan was still rooted to a spot.

The clock was still ticking when he picked up another scent.

"Wait." He started moving, "Anderson, hold down."

But his subordinate didn't listen. She pulled the frail suspect to her knees. Only then did the deputy roar, "It's an order!"

"She's a murder suspect, Captain. Five people are dead," Elaine Anderson, the second officer on the Sheriff's team, said as her black, deep-set eyes flamed.

This case was chopping down on all of their mental stabilities. Nolan had also felt his stress level soar.

"We don't know that yet," he said, sounding as uncertain as the entire situation.

Nolan fixed his gaze on the quivering woman and the frown on his face softened up. He drew to her front at once. There was no one in that bathroom that could understand the depth of what he felt at present.

He didn't know if it was pity, but he wanted to help her. He wanted to believe that she wasn't the monster behind all of this.

"Captain, you need to see this." The sound of the first officer calling out in a grave tone distracted him.

Odin Rodriguez was a bald guy, strong and built like an army tank. It would take more than a lot to make him bend, but with the way his eyes popped like corn under heat, Nolan knew to brace himself for the worst.

"What now? This is terrifying enough," Anderson said from behind, just as Nolan stepped through a pool of red he had failed to see before. He pushed the door of the last stall to the left slowly.

A man lay there, resting against the toilet seat. There was a huge gash in his chest. Blood sputtered and gushed out from it in rapid spurts. His eyeballs had lolled up into their sockets.

His heart was also missing.

"Jesus Christ!" Anderson exclaimed a moment later without thinking.

Nolan's eyes were distant. He forgot about being terrified. He was too busy paying his final respects to a man he actually knew.

"No shit, it's Bryson Barnes. Age: fifty-two. His wife is currently in Cameroon for her NGO's rescue mission. I know he has no kids but a stock of dogs. He is also on the poll for the office of the mayor and that position is unopposed," Rodriguez said, half in his head and half in the moment.

A lightbulb expression held their faces.

"This isn't just a crime scene, Odin. We are standing at the heart of a political crisis."

It had been a while since Nolan had figured it all out and his fears bloomed into reality. He didn't want to hear their thoughts, but this case wasn't rocket science any longer.

Anderson let out a determined sigh and said, "We should bring in the FBI. I have a hunch that the network in this case runs much deeper."

"Stop! I don't want to hear it. Not another word from the both of you."

A rigid hush spread throughout the space.

His subordinates stared at him in absolute shock. They couldn't have understood that the deputy Sheriff was barely hanging on at that moment.

"Rodriguez, go get the Chief."

The officer had hesitated before his reply came. "Rog."

In a few seconds, it was him and the second officer. He steered to face her.

"Anderson, I need forensics on site. Stall the BPD for now. Nothing in this building can go beyond its walls. Do you copy?"

"Yes, Captain."

And with that, Nolan was finally alone in the cramped bathroom.

The strange woman still knelt with handcuffs like a thief caught red-handed. He didn't remember she was with him anymore.

His eyes had found the dead body of soon-to-be Mayor Barnes instead and his free palm fisted as his jaw clenched so hard. Something flashed in his eyes; a darkness the colour of night came and went.

How the hell was he going to explain to the world that there was an animal attack at city central...