Title: Hermeneutics
Prologue

Author: The Lunatic Who Cares

Disclaimer: I sadly have no connection to owning anything Due South related, men or otherwise. I'm just here to play.

Notes: I do believe I was pestured into this and that I have a little list of other things to write but this came first. I have never written Due South before, so don't hurt me if I struggle with characters. Please do point stuff out to me, I do enjoy talking to peeps about stories. Sara will never read this but it is for her, living the dream I wish I could.

“Ray I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time,” Ben asked as he stood by his friend’s desk.

The man in question looked up and Ben could see the trouble and pain on his face instantly. He had being going to ask Ray to look into problem a lady across the street had come to him with but that look stopped him. Instead he sat opposite him, removed his hat and remained quiet,

“What is it Benny?” Ray sighed. “I suppose some old woman has come to you hoping you’d find her diamond ring that she lost in 1972.”

“She lost it last week actually,” Ben answered before he could stop himself.

“Look when I’ll get a moment free I’ll deal with it but right now…” Ray trailed off and glanced down at the closed folder on his desk.

“How serious is it?”

Ray met his friend’s eyes, reading them silently, before he tossed the folder across the desk,

“See for yourself.”

Ben turned the brown cardboard file around and then opened it. The first thing that caught his attention was the picture of a smiling woman, barely more than a girl, taken out near the lake with the wind blowing her hair back from her face. It was a good photo, a natural shot. She had dark blonde hair, the sort that could be mistaken for brown in the winter time and big, blue eyes that Ben could only describe as mischievous. Ray couldn’t keep quiet any longer,

“That’s Sara Keyes, 23. She disappeared seven days ago and until this morning was just another missing persons case in down town Chicago. Do you know how many girls her age vanish here every day?”

“Yes Ray,” Ben was more than aware of the statistics. “What changed this morning?”

Ray slid the paperclip that was holding the picture to the file away and then pushed the media photo to one side. Underneath was a plastic evidence bag with a smaller Polaroid of the same face, easily recognisable, inside but Ben noted her eyes were now dulled and begging for help.

He picked up the photograph to study it more closely and Ray’s eyes followed its path up. Ben could see his face behind the Polaroid and watched the way his eyes moved from side to side as if reading words. It was then he noticed the bumps in the picture like someone had pressed too hard when they wrote, so he turned the picture over to find slow, deliberate black capital letters written with a right slant to them.

I LIKE THIS ONE.

SHE WON’T BREAK FOR AWHILE.

Instantly Ben knew this was no joke and whoever had the girl had done this before, many, many times. He could see the way the captor wanted the police to try to find him, to play his game and he wondered how many times the police had failed.

“Have you had this hand writing analysed?” Ben asked, putting the photo back down.

“One of the first things that we did and it gives us nothing. The specialist says the writing probably belongs to a man. He’s easily bored, assertive and somewhat of a perfectionist but he has a temper. Big surprise there,” Ray shook his head. “He wouldn’t stick out in a crowd.”

“He’s done this before,” Ben met his friend’s eyes. “He wants us to play his game.”

Ray sighed,

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that but since you’ve come to that conclusion without seeing this then I suppose we’re right.”

He opened a drawer in his desk and tossed out another evidence bag. Ben turned it around on the desk so the white envelope was the correct way up and read the address, and then reread it. Nothing changed the fact that it was addressed to Detective Raymond Vecchio and Constable Benton Fraser at the Chicago P.D..

“The Lieutenant has put me in charge of this,” Ray glanced across at the windows into his boss’ office.

Ben could read the ‘I can’t screw this up’ in Ray’s tone but wisely didn’t comment about it.

“I would have thought the FBI would want to be involved in this case if he has done this in other cities,” Ben knew that would annoy Ray but that was better than him being depressed.

“Benny how many times must I tell you? The FBI are jack asses and screw up everything they touch,” Ray scowled.

“Understood Ray,” Ben nodded at his friend.

The detective sighed and then tapped the open folder,

“This is everything we have on her disappearance, which isn’t much. There wasn’t anything of value at her apartment and the last people to see her were at her college campus just after a lecture finished.”

“Are you going to interview them again?” Ben asked, fingers tightening on his hat in anticipation.

“I have to go over everything again,” Ray grimaced before rubbing his temples. “For once Benny I hope you find me some piece of dirt that points to exactly where she is.” He looked up at his friend. “You can even eat it.”

“I cannot guarantee anything Ray,” Ben answered seriously. “And eating the dirt should not be necessary. I have never ingested any form of soil in the pursuit of a criminal. Well unless you count the incident with the caribou hooves in the far…”

“See this is why I should never get you involved,” Ray stood, interrupting. “There is always some story about the Inuit I don’t want to hear.”

“There was no Inuit in this story,” Ben clarified.

“Benny…” Ray warned as he shrugged on his coat.

“Understood.”

“I just want this over with,” Ray strode passed Ben. “Right now.”

Ben stood in the middle of Sara’s apartment, trying to get a feel for the young woman who had lived here. The apartment itself wasn’t in too rough a neighbourhood, according to Ray, and it was compact but well furnished. One wall had faux wooden cupboards running along it including a fridge, sink and cooker. Two sides of the apartment had windows in them as her home stood on a corner of a block but the curtains were partially drawn. Two beams of weak Chicago sunlight transect the room to either side of him; one cut the foot off the bed to his right and the other fell onto her desk, piled high with books, scraps of paper, pens and paper clips.

The whole single room apartment was painted in a mute blue, slightly faded around the windows and skirting board. It was also covered in a thin layer of dust. Nobody had been here since the police who had trawled through her possessions looking for clues right back at the beginning of her disappearance. Now Ray stood looking at her bed, at the soft toys scattered across her pillows amidst the cushions. Ben could read the subtle signs his friend gave off, especially the tightness across his Armani covered shoulders.

Canadian Mounted Police issue brown knee high boots walked around with quiet thoughtful steps as Ben absorbed the information all his senses were giving him. His eyes made note of the tidied mess on her desk, the floor around it, the lone bookcase between the windows and the bedside table. He paused. The bedside table was neat, every thing orderly and aligned. It could be a strange personal habit or someone was leaving a message.

He crossed the floor, passing Ray’s silent form. They hadn’t talked since they had entered the apartment. Ben studied the table. One lamp, a clock still ticking away and one book complete with a bookmark sticking out the top. Ben picked the book up and read the title: Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams before opening the book to page forty two where the bookmark rested. At once Ben saw the pencil lines under certain words on the double page.

“Ray,” Ben called to his friend softly, eyes never leaving the page.

“Have you found something?” Ray peered over his shoulder.

“I will need a few moments to make sense of the order of the words but I believe there is a message encoded here,” Ben frowned as his brain put the fragments of sentences together.

Ray dug into his deep coat pockets and produced a small ring bound notepad and a stub of a pencil, almost blunted out of use. Ben accepted these without letting his attention leave the book, even when he expressed his gratitude to Ray with the usual ‘thank you kindly’. He walked slowly across the floor until he reached the desk where he slid into the chair and somehow the notebook found the small space left amongst books and papers.

Ray watched Ben mark down words, with deliberate spaces and lines between them until an entire small page was covered with his neat handwriting. Ben handed the notepad up to Ray who read it in silence.

“This it?” Ray asked after he had read the message. He understood exactly what it meant but wanted more hints where to go, how to find Sara.

Ben flicked through the book quickly and nodded,

“I’m afraid so.”

Ray sighed,

“It really does confirm he’s done this before, elsewhere.”

“We should head over to the University where she studied and see if we can find some of her friends to talk to,” Ben stood as he spoke. “And take all her work and books back to the department for further analysis.”

Ray made a noise of agreement as he looked over the words again:

Beginning small with logic
Think same
Stimulate
Demonstrate pain
Unfortunately obvious
Repeated the same action over and over and over again
Boredom
Moved on

“Damn why is this always me?”

-

N.B. And yes you can find all those words on those 2 pages on my copy of that particular book.