Casper Shhh, Dead Men Tell No Tales

C7: Casper Shhh, Dead Men Tell No Tales

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't just stand there and do nothing while all of this going on. He couldn't just watch her choose to drown in with the sinking ship.

"That'll be all for now ladies and gentlemen. We appreciate your patience and obviously understand your resentment, but we have to focus on the matter at hand now, and how exactly it's going to be tackled. Thank you." Malcolm snatched Shelby's hand, drew her, and pulled her out of a brewing mob that seemed to be etching ever so close to turning Shelby and Malcolm himself into modern day Martyrs. He entered the red convertible, parked just beside the enormous building that had been known to be a kind of "last few words" location. No surprise there though, both Myers and David's last few breaths before they were last seen took place around and, on these grounds, respectively. With one swift turn of his key, he zoomed off and out of the angry mob and choking reporters, Shelby's shaking emotions doing him no favors in the process. "Don't worry darling" he placed his warm hands on her awfully cold ones, "we're going to get through this together" he added caressing her tender knuckles with his thumb.

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The next few days, were torturous. Took its toll on the best of minds, severed some of the strongest of ties too. But most of all, it left a lingering, demanding question behind. "Who killed David Lautner?"

A famous one-liner from a popular movie I love to death once read "Dead men tell no tales." But buried in the dead silence, in the thickest cloud of darkness, the chilling desolation of muteness and murkiness lay the stories that touch.

The death of Mr. David Lautner spread like wildfire in the once peaceful city of Exasthen, and sure enough a heavy mist of fear and helplessness loomed over the town folk. With every passing second, the pent-up tension slowly suffocated the atmosphere until…

"Any leads on the case, detective?" The young-looking officer inquired while taking a sip of the hot cocoa that tried its best to temporarily still her vulnerability. "You know…", she said while slowly standing up from her dark, tainted office chair, "…during the coronation a couple weeks ago, I had one thing in mind". She sat next to the hazel eyed, impassive looking detective and stared at him, glaring into a soul clouded by nothingness and eminent coldness. "Living to protect the people, my people".

She uncaringly grabbed the collar of the brown leather jacket the detective had on, in effect, slightly rumpling it, "So you better tell me you found something."

" Could you chill the hell out? Let me make one thing clear to you Shelby…"

"that's Officer Claire to you", she interjected.

"Spare me the bullcrap Shell", he said ousting himself from the firm grip she had on his now rumpled collar. "I have my job, and you have yours. You're the head of the police force, and I'm a detective. Don't tell me how to do my work."

She let out a heavy breath, revealing her clear defenselessness. She stood up and reluctantly walked over to the window at the back of her office chair and in tears said, "it's my job to protect the people of this city. It was my Job to protect him Malcolm, and I couldn't".

"Hey, hey, hey, it's not your fault, you weren't there", he said moving in and attempting to hold her.

"Yeah, that's the point M, I wasn't there. I'm never there. Fuck", she said with her hands stretched out, shoving Malcom away. Streams of tears slowly rolled down her cheek while she tried dabbing it with her blue and black uniform.

"Well I, I found something Shelly". Malcolm said hesitantly, "but you're not going to like it". He walked back to his seat, stretched out, grabbed the black bag beside him, and slowly brought out the file that laid inside. Shelby now adjusted her posture, resting on the frame of the window waiting for any news, any sign, any ray of hope, that would explain something, anything. "I found some blood samples at his house",

"Oh Come on Malcolm" she said, audibly let down. "Obvious. He was stabbed so there were always going to be blood samples. Shit, if there weren't any, then that'd be the problem"

"Could you let me finish Shelly", Malcolm said with a voice tainted by slight annoyance. "He was brutally stabbed but there was another DNA present from a different, from a different person".

"Meaning he fought back, or at least tried to defend himself during the whole struggle".

"But Did you ever take the time to notice the wounds, and the manner with which he was killed?"

Shelby now stood straight up, her eyes were drowning in confusion and her pale, tender hands quaking in fear. "Go on", she fearfully said.

"The 'form' of the wounds shelly, the blood, the whole case in itself. He wasn't just killed, he was sadistically and slowly tormented before the knife was pierced into his throat. And as for the killer, his moves were very obvious, almost…"

"too obvious", she once again interjected. "Like he's waiting for someone to figure him out."

"Who did it Malcolm? Come on. Who did it? Tell me. I want to know who did it", she said as she snatched the file from his veined hands. And in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

"It was", Malcolm said heaving the high of a heavy heart.

"It was Jacob", Shelby said, instantly dropping to the floor. "He's Back".

The tears falling down her cheeks clearly extinguished any ounce of hope, trust or clarification she previously had. "He's back", she whispered. "It doesn't, it doesn't make sense Malcolm". She said scattering the file in front her. "Jacob and David never even met each other. Why would he kill him? He… he doesn't even know we're here… it, It doesn't add up Malcolm",

"But Shelby"

"It doesn't add up Malcolm", she furiously barked.

"And that's why I didn't want to tell you anything Shell. You think I'm enjoying the fact that the ghost of our past is back to haunt us? But at least I don't become some psycho maniac who can't get a grip over her emotions whenever his name pops up. Every single time I mention his name you get so aggressive. I guess it's true what they say about always running from our past and never actually confronting it. No matter how far we try to run away, it's icy grip always finds a way to drag us back", he murmured. "Well", he said snapping out of the few seconds of reflection, "I need to leave Shell", he said picking up his bag from the black armless chair he was sitting on, about to leave the vaguely painted cubicle that Shelby called her office. But then all of a sudden, Shelby quickly got up from the floor and gruffly held his hand, halting him just as he was about to leave. She stared straight into his eyes, but this time, the look on her face was very different. She had an aggressive, raging appearance. Her eyes seemed to resemble that of a furious leader, trying to instill fear into the hearts of his subjects.

"No one must hear of this, and you won't arrest him till I give a go ahead. Is that clear?" She furiously said

He looked at her in disbelief, "Excuse me?",

"Do I make myself clear Malcolm", she assertively added.

He stared at her, seeing a shadow of the person he once knew, or at least thought he knew. Forcefully freeing himself from her grip, he looked at her in confusion and said, "Loud and clear ma'am, Loud and clear", and took his leave from her office.