#criminal investigation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cambria-writes · 2 years

Text

good morning! it is wednesday!

i remember writing this for the first time and feeling super giddy that i was finally getting to the core of the reason why every chapter was named after a different shade of yellow.

anyways give it up for chapter ten! for better or for worse we're actually more than halfway there!

word count: 2,557 rating: T, each chapter rated individually warnings: guns, active shooting, minor injuries, mention of kidnapping, oc being a fucking idiot, panic in darkness, let me know if i need to add anything else!

previous next

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖊𝖓: 𝔖𝔬𝔩𝔞𝔯

The contact feels like an explosion of light behind your lids. Like you're two steps away from a migraine, when everything goes white. You feel no pain. There is no discomfort. Only confusion, and excitement in it.

You don't get much more before you're pulled back into someone's chest. You scramble to find your balance again. Your feet feel disconnected from your body. Head feels too heavy. Hands feel almost numb. It still feels like the wind is trying to take your breath right out of your lungs. Do your best to cover your mouth. The piercing green eyes follow you the entire way, but the woman doesn't move. And you aren't quite certain why, with so little information, you know it's a woman.

"Skye."

The way she speaks your name sounds like the wind carries it. Soft, almost filled with static. Pulls the bandana down on her face. You see a tattoo on her neck, peeking out through the top of the fabric.

She only extends a hand out to you. Doesn't move, but doesn't say anything else. Doesn't seem to even hear Jane. Neither do you; whatever he's saying is buried by the sound of the wind, your thrumming heart and the sound of your name ringing in your ears. The spell breaks when you hear faint shouting behind the woman.

Mr Jane stops speaking. The woman freezes; there's a distinct change on her face. You notice now the crow's feet by her eyes and the deep grooves of smile lines by her mouth. She doesn't turn around. You have a second to decide what to do. You can feel the adrenaline flushing through your system. Your muscles tense. Though your body still feels nine kinds of too heavy, you begin to dig your feet into the sand-ground.

"Skye, don't," is what Jane whispers in your ear. The woman reaches for the beachwood door to pull it shut. You can hear clearly now. There is definitely a woman in there, somewhere, who does not want to be there.

The ground has too much give for you to properly dig your feet into it. You get no traction. Fight against the grip Jane has on you. His fingers dig into your upper arm, in your shoulder. Lose your footing and hand knees-first into the sand-covered ground. The door shuts against the stone with a deceptively quiet sound. Scramble for purchase in front of you to try and run toward it.

"If I don't—someone has to do something, Jane! You can't, and I—"

"You what? Have the powers of the Great Beyond to help you, Skye?" Jane's tone is cold and calm. The quip barely bothers you. That isn't what's important.

"I don't care! We're here and someone needs help! What was the point of coming here if we don't fucking do anything?!"

"The point was to learn, Skye! Not get yourself killed like an idiot!"

His outburst feels like a slap in the face. Only now you notice you're crying. You let out a frustrated shriek. Stand up, pace, pull at your hair. This is ridiculous. This is stupid. There is literally only something you could barely call a door between you and a crazy serial killer. She was caught off guard. You have the upper hand. You have the upper hand!

You pull your bag in front of you and rummage through it. Look for keys, pens, anything pointy or sharp to use as a weapon if you need to. Jane can see your train of thought. You know he doesn't like it. But there's something in his demeanor that makes you stop. Bring the strap of your bag over your head, and drop it to the ground.

"You have a gun." It's 99% a statement, but you aren't entirely sure.

"I'm not giving it to you, Skye."

"You don't have to!" You gesture wildly at the "door" behind you. "Come with me, for fuck's sake! Lisbon or whoever the hell is on their way won't make it here on time! That girl's probably already dead because of your stupid ass dithering!"

You feel the shame crawl up your spine like sludge. You’re acting like a child and you know it. Makes you feel like gagging, but you stand your ground. There's an iciness to Jane's eyes that you do your best to ignore. He pulls a pistol from the back of his waistband, cocks it, holds it like he knows what he's doing.

You hope he does because you sure as hell don't.

You dash toward the door and tear it off its pathetic excuse for hinges and run headlong into the swallowing darkness of the cliffside cave.

Several things happen.

First, it's dark. Miserably dark. You can't see anything in front of you. The air is surprisingly stagnant and each breath feels empty. You have no idea how anyone could navigate around without a ridiculously powerful flashlight. This makes you worry. You eventually remember to take out your phone and turn on the flashlight.

Second, there are clothes everywhere, and the cave looks hastily carved out. Rough edges everywhere, stones jutting out. You see roots here and there. But the clothes startle you most. Mostly women's clothing, from what you can see, some dirtier than others. It unnerves you the most that there doesn't seem to be a speck of blood anywhere.

Third is the eerie calm. You can only hear your own breathing and heartbeat. You know Jane is behind you; his footsteps crunch in the gravel of the ground just like yours. But it's like sound can't reach you here. Like there's a giant buffer all around you that muffles everything.

None of this makes sense to you. There are no rooms here, no passages shooting into open spaces. The tunnel just keeps going and going. You walk for almost five minutes before you stop. You hear Jane ask you if anything's wrong before turning around.

"I heard a woman screaming from inside here," you state, looking around nervously. You point your phone's light at various spots in the walls around you, hoping to find an opening. There are none. "Where was she?"

Mr Jane frowns, and looks around himself in turn. You look up when he does. There isn't any exit above you, but were you looking up before? Could you have missed a drop-off like that before? Were you looking for one? You're about to suggest retracting your steps when you hear something like a twig snap. You freeze, halfway turned towards Jane. He puts a hand on your shoulder, slowly advancing in front of you. Not sure how you feel about him shielding you.

"Think quick," you whisper, putting a hand on Jane's back. "Age demographic of the missing women?"

"Eighteen to twenty four," Jane answers instantly. It's not ideal. And your plan is stupid. Ridiculous. You stay rooted for a second while you decide.

"How bad of an idea is whistling right now?," you ask in another whisper. Jane barely turns his head to look at you.

"Terrible."

Before you can reply, there's a metallic clang ahead of you. Far closer than you thought anything should be. You flash your phone on the ground. It looks like a narrow pipe. Maybe two feet long, a few inches in diameter. Walk ahead several feet to stand where the pipe landed. You point your light straight up into a shaft in the tunnel's ceiling.

A hiss and an arm cover a dirty face. The girl looks to be a few years younger than you. You swear, turn the light away. The shaft is at least two feet above your head, and several feet longer still. The girl peers down, looks close to tears. But she stays quiet.

The bitch of it is that there's no way any human being can pass through that narrow of an opening. You look at your phone screen to confirm: you have no reception in this place. Quietly swear to yourself again, turn to speak with Jane, but he's.

He's just gone.

Panic swells in your chest and makes it hard to breathe again. You try to calm yourself. Whisper your mantra of staying calm, breathing and focusing, but that barely works. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

"I'm right here," you whisper up to the girl. She nods. "I'm just turning the light off. I'm staying here." Run a hand to pull at your hair again. Turn the light of your phone off. You have 47% battery left and you have no idea how far that's going to take you here.

Look the way you came: pitch black.

Look the way you were going: pitch black.

Again, the only sound is your own heavy breathing and the drumming in your head. Try to pay attention to the sound around you for footsteps, but there's nothing. Walk back and forth several steps and hold your arms out to feel. Bump into a few jutting stones in the walls, but nothing else. Fuck. Okay, well, you asked for this. It doesn't make you feel any better, but holding someone accountable (even yourself) makes it a little easier to keep going.

Think quick. Okay. You got this.

You kneel and put your phone on the ground next to you. Untie the laces on both your shoes, tie them together. Tie one end around your phone. You do your best imitation of someone in contemplation in the dark. Take a deep breath. Turn the flashlight back on your phone. Call out to the girl.

"I'm going to try throwing my phone at you, " you whisper. Trying to stay quiet. Place yourself underneath the opening. If it had been just a foot wider... "Try and catch it. Try calling, okay?"

The girl nods. You nod back. Okay.

You have one shot at this.

Take another deep breath to steady yourself. Turn the flashlight off, hit the power button so the lock screen comes to life. Bend down a little bit.

And throw the phone up as far and hard as you can.

You can hear the girl scrabbling in surprise. Screw your eyes shut, but you don't hear the familiar sound of an iPhone hitting the ground. You release a shaking breath. Okay, step one down. You have no idea how many more to go. You call out your lock code to the girl, ask her to call the first 916 number in your call history.

As you wait for her to follow your instructions, you hold your breath and pray to whatever's out there that she isn't caught. And that you aren't caught. You palm the keys in your pocket anxiously

You get choked up when you hear the girl begin to talk. You can barely hear her speak a few words before you hear the unmistakable sound of gunshots. You run away from the hole. You don't know if you heard your phone fall. Cover your ears against the resonating sound in the tunnel.

You scream when you feel a hand on your shoulder. And fight against its grip as hard as you can. There's crashing and shooting only a few feet above your head and you are absolutely fucking terrified. You calm down only fractionally when you hear a woman's voice, but stay crouched low to the ground with your hands on your ears. You're pretty sure you're sobbing. Not sure that the rocking back and forth is your doing; There's an arm across your back with a hand bracing your head, and an arm across the front of your chest pulling you sideways into him.

You can easily tell that there's a gun in the hand that isn't running fingers through your hair. You don't make much of it, though. Jane had a gun when he followed you.

It takes you a second to realize your vision is slowly being taken over by the light of a sun only you can see.

When Jane sees the missing girl's glassy eyes stare down the hole, he runs. He calls back to Skye, but can't take the time to make sure she hears him. He runs towards the opening in the cliffside, runs up the carved stone steps, runs through the house and out onto the street. Dials 911 as soon as his phone decides to give him reception again, and tells the dispatch exactly what's happening. Even gives them Lisbon's badge number, for all the good it'll do. Which probably isn't much.

That's when he notices that there's a car in the driveway that is Distinctly Not His. And it definitely was not there before.

Jane curses and rushes back to the house, but takes his time going through it. He'd looked it over quickly when he and Skye had walked through, but had ultimately been too preoccupied by her being right (about the house, the cliff and the steps) to properly investigate. It was obvious, now that he looked for it; a rug in the dining room that didn't quite completely cover some odd pattern in the hardwood flooring.

Pulling the rug aside reveals what could easily have been mistaken as a really terrible flooring job. Jane knows better. Pulls out all the drawers in the kitchen until he finds a butter knife. Wedges it between two planks and lifts.

It would have been the easiest thing for literally anyone else to miss, but that was definitely someone's attempt at hiding a trap door.

There are no stairs, there's no ladder. It's a straight seven foot drop, give or take a few inches. Jane makes sure the safety on the pistol is on before crouching down, and making the drop. The impact doesn't do wonders for his ankles, but he'll save the complaints for later.

The cellar-type room underneath the dining room is eerily similar to one he's been trapped in once before. Shakes the memory; don't have the time for it. Jane does his best to keep an ear out for any sound. It's the only sense he has in the pitch black darkness of the room. There's light coming from somewhere, a door probably, but he can't see it right away. Instead, he focuses on the quiet sound of a girl doing her best at being quiet.

Jane puts one foot forward when the gunshot deafens him. The bullet whizzes by; definitely grazes his cheek. It burns something awful, and for a second he almost feels bad for dragging Skye around with the state her thigh is in.

Doesn't take more than a fraction of a second before he draws and levels his gun in the approximate location of the shooter. Flicks off the safety and squeezes the trigger. There's the distinct sound of splintering wood and scrambling footsteps, then nothing. Jane curses and ducks blindly, looks for cover. He can hear the other shooter moving several feet away. His knee meets something that feels like a coffee table; good enough.

Jane flips what is probably a table, aims straight ahead and shoots.

The bullet hits either stone or metal. Either way, it does exactly what he needs. The spark of metal against something solid creates enough of a spark for Jane to see the blurred features of a woman.

Hair’s too short. Frame too wide. A second one?

Below him, he hears Skye scream.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@fucklife-or-me @yearningforsappho

#honey and the hatchet #patrick jane #reader #ofc #original female character #patrick jane x ofc #patrick jane x original female character #second person pov #guns #active shooting #minor injuries #mention of murder #criminal investigation #kind of #reader has powers #also kind of #reader is a fortune teller

51 notes · View notes

things-in-old-books · 2 years

Text

A list of items useful when investigating a crime scene, from Criminal Investigation by Hans Gross (1893), translated from German and adapted by John Adam and J. Collyer Adam (1906).*

(Full text of the list is under the cut)

1. A supply of paper is of course a necessity. This should include several sheets of writing paper of the best quality. In an inquiry the ordinary Government official paper should never be used, it is generally of bad quality, and you may live to repent employing it.

2. Several envelopes of various sizes.

3. Several sheets of blotting paper.

4. A certain number of all the usual official printed blank forms, as inquest reports, warrants, summonses to witnesses, etc. One must not wait for the time of starting to put these in order; they should be replenished immediately on the return from each inquiry. With these should be carried pocket editions, text only, of the Penal Code, Code of Criminal Procedure, and Evidence Act.

5. A good map of the taluq or district in which one is about to travel. To save space it is better to have an unmounted map, as its use is comparatively infrequent.

6. The Investigating Officer will also be provided with pens and pencils. These should be of the best quality. Good pens mean quick and legible writing, whence economy of time and consequently greater care and accuracy in the inquiry. For steel nibs a good globe or ball-pointed pen is the best, as it does not penetrate or catch the paper, and thus permits swift and easy writing. The use of fountain pens is now almost universal in India among officials. The advise to be given as to them is, to shun cheap imitations by unknown makers. Nothing is more trustworthy than a fountain pen by a reliable maker—everyone has his own fancy—but a pen without such a guarantee and previous trial should be rigorously disregarded.

7. For ordinary pens a pocket ink bottle is necessary. Care should be taken to see that it shuts closely and is re-filled after each investigation. The ordinary sprint-top cases with indiarubber on the lid to seal the bottle are not very satisfactory. In fact all rubber articles perish very rapidly in India. For the fountain pen, a Swan Fountain Pen Ink-filler should be carried. It consists of a bottle of ink, with a filler forming the cork, contained in a cylindrical wooden or metal screw top case. The ordinary filler can be obtained for Re. 1 from any dealer in fountain pens, and will be found invaluable in travelling. As a reserve in case of need, a little nigrosine or ink powder should be carried. As this is supplied to and used in every office in India, nothing more need be said about it. The “Swan” Ink tablets, which can be had in various colours, in Nickel tubes, at 8 as. and Re. 1 are also very convenient.

8. A yard measure.

9. A pair of compasses.

10. A pedometer, though not perhaps indispensible, is most useful; it is the shape and size of a watch. If one wishes to measure a long distance, one sets the needles on all the dials (units, tens, &c.) at zero, puts the instrument in the pocket and walks off. For greater certainty one may put the instrument in one’s boot, when every step will certainly be registered. Thus better results are obtained than by merely counting paces, while the great advantage accrues that he who carries it can look about him and devote his attention to other matters, which is quite impossible while continually counting.

11. Tracing paper and cloth. The cloth is useful for removing traces of blood, and in all circumstances when paper is not strong enough.

12. A bottle of plaster of paris and another of oil. These are mainly of use for preserving footprints and impressions (see Chapter XIII.)

13. A brush. The brush is useful for taking impressions of solid objects and surfaces in relief, with moistened blotting paper; such as marks made by a tool, such as a chisel, cuts by a knife or hatchet, damage to material objects, etc. As to the method of doing this (see Chapter XII.)

14. Sealing Wax.

15. Two small glass tubes. These are useful for making quickly any simple experiment, for instance to see if a substance found in the body of a corpse or in the course of a search, be arsenic or not. Arsenic is the poison in most common use, hence it is important to detect it quickly, as its discovery may lead to an immediate arrest. These test tubes should be of clear, thin glass, closed at one end, from three to four inches long, and the thickness of a lead pencil, (see Chapter XVI).

16. Two wax candles of the length and thickness of one’s finger are often useful.

17. A compass.

18. An iron box with matches. If smokers themselves often forget their matches; how much more careful should Investigating Officers be in making sure of being always provided with this indispensible accessory.

19. A piece of soap. It is a great comfort to have a wash after a search, handling dirty clothes, perhaps dirty bodies, etc. Soap is also useful to take small impressions, as of keys, teeth (in case of bites), etc.

20. A good magnifying glass. This most useful friend should be mounted in a broad rim, so as to be protected from scratches, for a scratched magnifying glass is worse than useless.

21. A camel-hair brush. This is useful for oiling footmarks before taking the impression and also for removing traces of blood, etc.

22. Some gum arabic.

23. Some thick, smooth notepaper. Ordinary paper is too coarse and rough for preserving small articles, while glazed paper contains too many foreign admixtures.

24. The office seal. For greater convenience this may be used without a handle, so that it takes up no more room than a coin, say five shillings or five francs, or even a rupee.

25. A few sheets of manifolding paper. The use of this is too well known to require explanation. The best appliance to use when travelling is a hard and sharp lead pencil.

26. Some tissue paper. This is handy for taking impressions of fine surfaces, as of wood, a stone, etc., where blotting paper would be too rough.

27. A good watch.

_____

*The original text in German, Handbuch für Untersuchungsrichter als System der Kriminalistik, was published in 1893 by Hans Gross, who is credited with founding the discipline of criminology. In addition to translating the text from the 1904 edition into English, Adam and Adam (British legal officials in Madras) adapted it into an "Indian and Colonial Edition" with information of particular relevance to British officials in India during imperial rule. For more on the topic of policing and imperial rule in British India, see [1] [2] [3].

#1890s #1900s #criminal investigation #old books #vintage books #historical true crime #criminology #hans gross #victorian era

1 note · View note