writing_shadows

Bit of background stuff from when my forsaken character (pre-change) had to work with Chris Hendersons Forsaken character, Rob Harrington. Certain liberities have been taken but hopefully it should be okay...

Jack sighed and leant back in the chair, throwing the file onto the desk in an offhand manner. His partner for the time being was staring at him again over the mountain of paperwork piled up on the desk between them.

“I would very much prefer it if you would kindly not smoke in here.” DI Harrington said in his calm, polite, but intrinsically forceful manner as he glared at Jack for the umpteenth time that morning.

The man was more uptight than a clockwork spring. Which was understandable really. This was his patch, his area and nobody liked outsiders coming in and waltzing all over the place. Or more importantly, they didn’t like them solving their problems and stealing all the glory.

There was something about Harrington that rattled Jacks nerves a little. He’d had to work with a load of odd sorts, hell; technically he was one of the odd sorts depending on who you talked to. But no, there was something about Harrington, the way he leaned forward a little too much when he talked, the way he seeemd to stalk about rather than walking, the way he looked at you like you were nothing more than meat sometimes. And the sniffing. Anyone would think the guy was allergic to everything, including smoke. And, Jack, if asked, would swear that the guy growled when he was pissed off.

Jack got up and walked over to the window and threw it open with one hand as he thought about the case in general. He watched a couple of the cars below speed out of the gates, the scream of the sirens starting as they raced off. He could feel Harrington’s eyes boring into the back of his head as he tapped ash out of the window and took another long drag.

Give him his credit; the guy was good at his job. He knew his stuff, didn’t piss about and didn’t take any crap from people, including his superiors. Jack could respect that. But he was out of his depth on this one though and the pair of them knew it. It was one of the reasons why Jack had been transferred up to North Yorkshire. It wasn’t one that got mentioned, especially in front of Harrington, but they both knew it. It was just one of those unspoken things that was left hanging heavily in the air, even after the cleaner had been round with the pine airfreshener.

Jack ground out the dying embers of the fag on the windowsill and behind him Harrington growled. Jack twitched and looked briefly over his shoulder as the butt tumbled out of his fingers before turning back and swore quietly under his breath as the orange stub fell to the ground. He heard Harrington get up but as the butt bounced of the hat of a WPC going out on the beat something clicked in his head.

“Where’s the files with the splash patterns of the victims?” he said over his shoulder as he waved apologetically at the irrate looking woman below him. “Sorry love!” he shouted down before closing the window and turning back to look at Harrington.

Harrington, was still glaring at him, but give him his due pulled out the files quickly and efficiently and dropped them down on Jacks temporary desk.

“Why?” he asked, professional curiousity overcoming his irritation at his partners smoking habits and clumsy fingers.

“Because, I think I have just worked out exactly what we’ve been missing.” Jack said with a grin sitting down and opening up the first victims file.

Harrington glared at him again for a moment and narrowed his eyes. “Yes? And just what exactly is that?”

“Well, you see...” Jack took a moment to remove the now crumpled cigarette packet from under the new pile of files that had been dropped on his desk. He tapped one out and lit it before flicking through the files and opening them all up at the same point. “...The alignment, angle and distances of the splash patterns from each of the vicitms are indicative of, as we both know...”

Harrington stood there and continued to glare at Jack as he explained for a moment but made his way round to look over his shoulder and look for himself.

“Fucking hell...” he murmered, more to himself than Jack once the explanation was finished.

“Come on.” Jack said chirpily getting up out of the chair and moving over to get his coat. “We need to go have a chat with Mister Jenkins again, don’t you think?”

DI Harrington looked up at him and glared. Despite what others might think he didn’t really mind the fact they had brought in some twat from London. It wasn’t even the fact that he might actually solve the case instead of him.

He just really bloody well wished Jack would use an ashtray once in a while.