bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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Rosebud Murders

Title: The Rosebud Murders 9/45

Author: BmblBee
Rating: M for Mature language and m/m sex
Also warning for violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters
or products named in this story
Paring: S/X
Summary: HAU
Spike is a Homicide detective trying
to stop a serial killer before he strikes
again. Xander is a psychic who offers
to help him.




Banner by Petxnd


Finally taking the time to look at the card that the strange young
man had given him, Spike smiled when it read it. It contained the
boy's name, Alexander Harris, and his place of employment, Divine
Creations Wood Work. Hand Made Furniture.
It also listed an address and phone number of a small warehouse
down in the factory district.

The thing that caused the grin, however, was what was written
across the top of the business card.

THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE

Although far from a sci-fi fanatic, even Spike got the X-Files reference.
"Oh, great. The kid's a jokester. Well what the fuck did I expect?"

Turning the card over, Spike looked at the name and number that
Xander had listed as reference. There was no part of this that Spike
believed. He was a man of facts. Clues and tangible evidence.
Things he could touch, analyze and put his finger on.

Things that could be presented and proven in a court of law, still,
frustration and desperation were dangerous bedfellows, for men
on both sides of the fence, and right now Spike's frustration was
leading him to do something he would never admit.
Not even under the threat of torture.

Spike dialed the number.

"Midvale Police Department. Chief Traynor speaking. How can
I help you?"

Spike frowned. What the hell kind of department was it that the
Chief answered his own phone?

"Yes, Chief Traynor? My name is detective William Pratt of the Stark
County Sheriff's Office in California. Have you got a few minutes?"

The voice on the other end was pleasant and relaxed and, for some reason,
put Spike at ease immediately. There was none of the curtness or professional
rudness that seemed to be taught and perfected in the depatrments here
on the west coast.

"Sure thing Officer Pratt. Callin' clear from California huh? Well what can
a small town cop from Ohio do for you?"

Spike fussed with the neck tie that hung down the front of his shirt
and figured, 'What the fuck'. He was in it this far, he might as well
go the last mile.

"Actually, Chief, I was given your name as a reference.
I'm kind of embarrassed to even discuss this, but what the hell.
I'm working a really difficult case out here. A homicide, and to be
honest I'm coming up empty handed. A young man came to me
right out of the blue and he said he could help me. Gave me some
song and dance about being a ghost hunter or some shit. Anyway
he gave me your name and number, said you could speak for him.
Boy's name was Alexander Harris?"

Spike heard the warm chuckle and felt the fatherly comfort even
across the more than two thousand miles that separated them.

"I know what you're thinking detective, but he's the real deal.
Two years ago I wouldn't have believed it either, but let me tell
you what happened and you can decide for yourself."

Spike got comfortable in his chair and decided, that he could do.
"Sounds fair, Chief."

"Good, well, actually I've had two encounters with Xander. First one
came about two years ago. Little girl out here came up missing.
3 years old, by the name of Gracie. Gracie's mother called all frantic
like. Said the little girl had been out playing in the back yard and wandered
off into the woods. Probably after a squirrel or some such. Well
I'll tell you, we searched for hours. Officers, volunteers, fire dept.
Nothin'. No sign of her anywhere. By that night we had to sedate her
mother and restrain her daddy. By the second night we were starting to
think the worst. Then out of the blue this young man calls. He asks if
we got a missing child. He says he can help and describes the area where
she is. The rock side, the elm trees, the creek. I knew it immediately and
when we went there, bingo. She was cold, hungry, scared and a bit
dehydrated but alive. Course we checked out Xander's alibi. Employer
just laughed and said Xander had been at work in California the whole time.
He wasn't surprised though, I got the feeling I wasn't the first cop to call
and check on him."

Spike wasn't sure how to process this information. It just wasn't a piece
that fit into his puzzle maker. Still, he was intrigued.

"And the second time?"

All humor dropped from the Chief's voice as his story continued.
"Second time, I called him. Jim Sliman, a good buddy of mine got
himself shot and killed in a hunting accident, least that's what we thought.
It appeared he had tripped, fallen on his own shotgun. But, ya know,
somethin' just didn't feel right about it. I called Xander and damn if the
boy didn't come here. Flew all the way here to Ohio to help us out.
Well, when I took him to the spot in the woods he damn near fell over.
Went all weak kneed and had to sit down. Said he could read Jim's
final emotions. Said it was shock, sadness and betrayal. Said he wasn't
alone at the last and we should look to a male relative. Only male
relative he had was his younger brother. When we brought him in for
questioning we put on a little pressure and he cracked straight away.
Turns out he was fuckin' the missus. Also had a bit of a coke habit and
the insurance money was earmarked to go up his nose. Said he had
snuck out there, grabbed up the gun when Jim laid it down, shot him
and slipped away. I'm tellin' ya, without Xander he would'a got
clean away with it."

Spike's only response was silence. He didn't know what to say.
He had a million questions, but none of them seemed logical
and he wasn't sure where to start.

"Detective Pratt? You still there? I know how all this sounds, but
as a police officer you know yourself that tips and leads come in the
most unexpected ways. Don't pass by a penny on the street just
cause it's laying tails up."

Surprisingly, Spike got the point of the homespun advice and had to
admit it was valid.

"Yeah, you're right. Well, thanks Chief, you've certainly given me a lot
to think about. Just one question Chief? Do you always answer your
own phone?"

The easy chuckle was back and Chief Traynor answered.
"Nay, usually Peggy does it but I gave her some time off to go get her
nails done. This is a village of 2200 people, Detective. Me and two
patrolmen do our best to keep crime under control and considering
a barking dog or a loud party are usually the biggest things to happen,
it works out just fine. Now, take and old man's advice. Call Xander.
You won't be sorry."

"Yeah, thanks Chief, I might just do that. Thanks for your time
and keep those damn dogs quiet."

The Chief let out a laughing whoop and hung up the phone.
Spike hung up his end, sat quietly for a bit then picked it up and
with the card in one hand and the phone in the other, began dialing.
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