The Castle

Dean swiped his access card and walked through the lobby of the federal building. It was a large area with lofty ceilings and granite floors. The floor-to-ceiling windows made the place look like a fishbowl. The large desk in the reception area was a beautiful maple wood.

The young girl behind the desk had her mahogany brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. The moment he swiped his card, she had a small mirror out, checking her makeup and applying lip gloss, checking her hair and fixing her clothes, smoothing them out. Her hazel eyes locked in on him like a hunter to a deer. A full toothy smile greeted Dean as he walked up to the desk.

"Agent Carron. How are you doing today? I was just wondering if you tried calling me. If so, I didn't get the message. Maybe I should check if you have the right number. I am still available to show you around," she said.

The young girl's speech was fast, and her sentences ran together. It reminded him of how his little sister talked. She batted her fake eyelashes at him and did her best to keep her lips pouted and full. She was completely enamored with him.

"Would you like some fudge? I made it myself. I saved some for you."

She opened the tin, holding it up close to Dean's face. It was full.

"Take as much as you want. You're such a big, strong guy," she said, handing him a napkin.

He reached into the tin and took the most diminutive piece he could find.

"Oh, come one. You can take more than that!" she said.

He took the second smallest piece he could find.

"Taste it!" she exclaimed.

He took the tiniest bite he could. Jolene had used unsweetened baking chocolate. He gave her a little look. His eyes darted around, looking anywhere but at her with a false smile, trying his best to make it look genuine.

"Well. What do you think?"

He forced himself to overcome the uncontrollable urge to spit it into the napkin.

He grimaced. "I have never tasted anything like it. It's definitely unique. I'll save the rest for when I get home."

"AWE, thank you! I can make any flavor. What's your favorite fudge flavor?"

Sweetened? "Don't go through all that trouble for me. Plus, I can't eat too many sweets. Got to keep my body in check," he said, patting his stomach.

"I would love to check out your body," she said under her breath.

"It's been a pleasure, Jolene... thanks for this," he said, holding up the fudge. "Unfortunately, I have that Chapman case to work on."

He started to walk away and looked over his shoulder. "Text me so I know I have the right number." He was now aggressively pressing the up button. He decided to take the stairs. Twelve flights were no big deal when running for your sanity.

"BUT I DON'T HAVE YOUR NUMBER," she called after him.

When he came out the stairwell door, he knew he had to contend with Marianne next. He couldn't avoid her; she was the central secretary for the agents.

"Good afternoon, Marianne. Any messages?" he asked with a smile.

Marianne had been looking at him up and down. She had been staring at the elevator for hours, waiting for him to come in.

"Dean! I'm doing all right. I am a little upset. I was supposed to go out with my friend for dinner. I was looking forward to it. But she had to cancel. Are you free this evening? We were going to Lola. I'd hate to cancel the reservation."

He shifted uncomfortably. Wow, she lies like a rug.

Bruss would notice him checking his phone, his body tense, his feet facing toward the direction of his cubicle. That shows he wanted to run. He loathed lying to people. He didn't want to, but she was not his type, thirsty.

"That does sound like a good time," he said.

She perked up and smiled with a look of excitement.

"But this afternoon was a little rough on me. I want to go home, have a beer, and put on the T.V. You should ask Jolene; I'm sure she has no plans."

It was true. He just wanted to go home, shower, have a beer, put his feet up, and watch YouTube videos of kittens.

"I'll just go alone, sit alone while I get pity for being alone," she sighed.

"Well, I hope you can try to enjoy yourself. That place is supposed to be AMAZING! So, any messages? I am expecting a message," he asked her for the second time.

"Nope. Sorry to disappoint. It sucks being disappointed, doesn't it?" Marianne said with a smug tone.

He wanted desperately to get to his desk. The last place he wanted to be was in this conversation.

"Nice talking to you. I need to get to my desk and finish my fudge."

He had been at his desk for about 2 minutes when his boss, Special Agent in Charge Michael Kent, approached.

"Carron, any updates on the Chapman girl?"

"We went down to the coroner's office. Thank was an experience I really would like not to have again."

"Speaking of unpleasant things, did you happen to get some fudge from Joleen?" he asked.

"I did. It was unlike anything I have ever had before."

"Evidently, you've never eaten dirt before."

"She tried," he said.

"She has ulterior motives. You know that just as well as I do. That's why I got some."

"She gave you some too?"

"She's gunning for Farrah's job. When she is on maternity leave."

"That would put her right at the front desk with Marianne. Boss, you can't do that to me. You just said it yourself; she has a motive," Dean replied.

"I'll try not to."

"What do you mean you'll try?" he asked.

"She's a good receptionist, and she's the only one who has expressed interest in the position."

"I am in my own personal hell today."

"It's not THAT bad, Carron," he said. "Changing the subject. Can you give me anything to pass on to the higher-ups?"

"The coroner concluded that the weapon used was a dagger," he said.

"Interesting choice of weapon. I'll make sure that it's sent to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. It will certainly help with the profile," he said, rubbing his chin.

"She was raped. She had a broken coccyx and had her Achilles tendons cut. She died of exsanguination. She was malnourished and dehydrated—with ligature marks on the wrists and ankles.

"What is a coccyx?"

"Tailbone."

"Then just say tailbone," he said. "Anything else?"

"I am still waiting for Allie to call," he said.

"Allie?"

"Yeah, get this shit... Detective Kingston? Her name is Allie Kingston."

"OK. What is so shocking about..." Then it came to him: "Ohhh, you don't mean Allie, Allie? One-night stand, Allie? I thought she was a personal trainer."

"Oh, no. She sure as shit is NOT a personal trainer who took some self-defense classes at the YMCA."

"Damn, that's a bombshell."

"It gets better," he said.

"How could this possibly get better?"

"She is a retired Marine! A fucking Marine! She could have killed that guy that night. Literally kill him! AND..."

"There's an and?" he asked.

"She has absolutely no fucking clue who I am. None. She said things might be blurry, but we are talking NOT AT ALL. Zip, zero, zilch. Nothing. Tumbleweeds..."

"I get it. She forgot you."

"AND... She is a total she-devil. I'm talking about a class A, certifiable, undeniable, unquestionable, indisputable SHE-DEVIL. I hate when people call women derogatory names, but we are talking irrefutably..."

"Dean put the boat in the dock. I've got to be home in an hour. I get it. Point taken," Kent said. He took a deep breath and sighed. "They say a person is more honest when they are inebriated. The lack of inhibition dredges up things and feelings that are deep in the brain. So, deep in her brain, she's interested in you."

"You should hear how gifted she is at firing off insults at people! I am talking savage! Do you want to hear one? You're going to anyway. A glow stick has a brighter future than you. Lasts longer in bed, too!"

"Maybe you're lucky she didn't remember because that would have hurt a lot more," he said.

"I know. Christ," he said. You should assign me to another case. Give this one to Landry."

"And what exactly am I going to put on the transfer report? S.A. Carron is requesting a reassignment due to the fact the girl he likes is being mean to him?"

"OK, since you put it that way."

"Well, as much as I have enjoyed this scuttlebutt, I have a couple of things to do before I go home to my loving family."

"Scuttlebutt?" he asked.

"Military term for gossip."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Carron, I'm a retired Marine. Learn some slang. She might want to take your glow stick to bed again one day." Mike winked at him and laughed.

"Maybe you can make a Marine Corps to English cheatsheet for me?"

"Yeah, sure." Kent smiled and laughed.

Dean wasn't joking, but he just laughed alone.

"Keep me updated," Kent said, patting him on the shoulder.

"About Allie?"

"No. The case. That's the actual thing you are supposed to be working on. Have a good night, Dean."

"You too, Mike."

Carron put his head in his hands. He was thinking about her, not the case. He couldn't wait for this day to be over. He needs a beer, lots and lots of beer.

Special Agent Dean Carron, FBI