Archive of Our Own

“G’night boss. Hopefully you don’t fall asleep in your basement next time.”

The head detective snorted a laugh. “Not on your life, DiNardo. If you’re late again, I’m going to know. Have a good night.”

“Thanks,” his subordinate raised his hand in a still, casual wave goodbye as his boss left the building. “Got the place to myself for another hour, then I’m off. Finally… I have been here since 8 in the morning. Dang, it was even enough time to dissuade me from texting an ex. Well, it's been pretty slow lately, so I guess I can just chill out ‘till clockout.”

DiNardo kicked back in his desk, took out his phone, and found a good show to sit down and watch. Good was probably a stretch, but it was enough to entertain him for an hour. He was on his third snicker at a lame one-liner when the phone rang. Not his phone, but the phone of Head Detective Biggs, the man who just left.

“Huh. Lemme see who’s calling… Hopefully it’s not another ex-wife, I barely got out of that conversation alive,” DiNardo muttered to himself. He paused his phone and shuffled over to his boss’ desk.

With a cool and collected flourish, he picked up the landline phone and put it to his ear. “You’ve reached Detective Biggs’ desk, sorry he can’t take your call, but if you have any questions—”

“Listen… carefully…”

The voice of a woman crackled on the phone line. Was she older? Younger? DiNardo couldn’t tell. Taken aback by the sudden ominous shift, he remained silent, for once.

“An abduction is being plotted as we speak. I know not of when or by who, but keep a close eye on Poe.”

“I— Okay, do you know Poe’s last—”

And just as quickly and mysteriously as the call arrived, it was gone. The woman hung up before DiNardo could finish his question.

“Shit. Shiiiit… What do I do about this? File it as a prank call? No, it’s policy to investigate every tip that's made here. And if it turns out to not be a prank call, they might actually fire me if I dismiss it.”

DiNardo sighed as he collapsed back on his desk, clicking open a pen with a notepad in hand. He hesitated, briefly considering leaving this for tomorrow, but he knew that once Detective Biggs found out, he’d earn himself a slap on the back of the head. So he just resigned himself to staying late and got to work.

The next morning, just as promised, Biggs arrived bright and early, having not fallen asleep in his basement while building his boat. He arrived at his desk expecting DiNardo to have ordered a pizza the night before, and left the box on his own desk. However, he was instead greeted by a fresh new file. 

“Poe Stutters…” he muttered, reading the name printed in pen.

His attention caught, he flipped through the compiled papers, which wasn’t many, but it was enough. The main thing he saw was a transcribed call just from the night before. Did DiNardo put this together last night? Biggs was actually impressed. Though the feeling had to be cast aside as he read the call. It was short, but it explained everything before him.

“An abduction… But who is being abducted?”

“That’s what I wanted to know.”

DiNardo strolled up to the desk behind his boss, coat hanging off his arm. 

“Wow, can’t believe you actually did your job while I was gone,” Biggs remarked. “So, where did this call come from exactly? Were you able to glean anything from the number?”

“Unfortunately no, the number was hidden, and when I tried to call back, it denied me. Clearly the caller wanted to stay anonymous. For what reason, your guess is as good as mine, boss.”

“So we got an unknown person giving a vague tip about a kidnapping happening during an undefined time? I’d say we might as well have gotten nothing, but hey, we’ve done more with less. And clearly you found something.”

“Not much… The lady told us to ‘keep an eye on Poe’, unfortunately she didn’t provide a surname, but I managed to find him. Poe’s not really a common name, there’s only two in the area, and one just died. The other is an IT guy named Poe Stutters. Graduated from Harvard with a masters in computer science, now he works from home. Kind of a hermit, as far as I can tell. Last photo we have of him was when he was 25. He’s in his thirties.”

“Do we have an address?” Biggs asked, already packing up his stuff.

“Unfortunately no, his listed address was his parents’ house, and according to his mother, he moved out years ago. Though, she gave us the name of one of his college friends, Guinevere Graves. Coincidentally, she works at her own mortuary.”

“Got the—?”

“Address for it, yep. Let’s go,” DiNardo finished his boss’ question before he could.

“Go where? I come in five minutes late, and we’re already out the door?” A woman, dressed sharply in her crisp blazer, had just come up from the elevator, bag slung over her shoulder.

“Sorry Cath, been busy last night,” DiNardo shrugged, a smug look creeping on his face.

“With work instead of a hookup? Impressive,” Cath snickered, matching her coworker’s smugness.

“I know, surprised me too,” Biggs’ neutral voice gave nothing away, but the ghost of a smirk crossing his lips indicated his amusement. “We got a lead to chase. Come with us Cath, we’re going to a mortuary.”

“For what?” Despite her having questions, Cath set her bag down, grabbed her police badge, ready to follow behind her boss.

“We’ll explain in the car.”

Once Biggs had firmly secured himself the driver’s seat and car keys, DiNardo got right to work telling the ‘riveting tale’ of the mystery phone call speaking of a future abduction, and of his diligent research into the matter, which Cath mostly rolled her eyes at, but she did get the gist.

The mortuary looked almost gaudily grim, with Halloween decor despite it being past Halloween. Almost everything was painted black or grey, and with motifs of bones and skulls everywhere.

The three detectives went up to the front desk. There seemed to be no one manning it, so they rang the bell, which was decorated with a sculpted skeleton hand. Instead of making a ‘ding’ sound, it made a loud ghostly moaning, which made DiNardo jump.

“Coming~!” A woman’s voice called cheerfully from another room. 

After a minute or so of metal clattering and the closing of drawers, they were greeted by the voice’s owner entering the front desk from its back door. Underneath a black apron was a gothic-style dress, and her face mask even had bats printed on it. She pulled it down and revealed a jolly smile.

“Welcome to Incryption Mortuary! Which one of you is getting embalmed today?”

“Oh— We’re not—” DiNardo immediately started stammering, taken aback by the question.

The woman laughed, hand hovering over her mouth politely. “I’m kidding, dear! It’s always fun to see how people answer. I’ve met some real cards with that icebreaker! Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“Are you Guinevere Graves?” Biggs asked, stepping forward.

“That’s correct! If you’re with the Census Bureau, tell them that unless they’d like to interview all of my lovely cadavers, they won’t be getting much information…!”

“We’re with the police department, ma’am,” Cath explained, showing off her badge.

“Oh, oh dear… I do hope there’s nothing amiss with my residents…” Guinevere said, hand on her chest.

“No, we’re just here for a few questions,” Cath reassured her. “We understand that you were friends with a Poe Stutters during his time at Harvard?”

In that moment, the delighted twinkle in Guinevere’s dark eyes faded. Her smile slumped into a thoughtful frown. Her hands folded in front of her. “Yes, I was. If… If you’re looking to know more about h— him, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I haven’t seen Poe since graduation. None of us have.”

“Us?”

“There were two more of us, we were a little friend group, you see,” Guinevere clarified. “Leslie and Magnus. We had a Dungeons and Dragons group. Ever since Polly…” 

She looked like she was about to say something more, but she shook her head. “One day, Poe just wanted nothing more to do with us. And that was that. I haven’t seen him in years. If you’d like to try your luck with the other two, their names are Magnus Filbert and Leslie Clint. Though I’d be careful about asking Leslie. He and Poe were old flames once upon a time, and it’s still quite sore of a subject.”

“Really? Even after almost ten years?” Cath asked, eyebrow arching with curiosity.

“Let’s just say that the two didn’t end things the way Leslie wished they did.”

Guinevere’s saddened expression suddenly brightened, not necessarily with cheer, but with a spark of intrigue. “Say… You never told me what this was for. Don’t tell me antisocial shut-in Poe Stutters committed a crime?”

“We don’t know that yet, that’s why we’re trying to learn more,” Cath answered. “You’ve been very helpful to us, Ms. Graves, thank you so much.”

Guinevere still looked unsatisfied with the answer, but ultimately, she put her well-mannered smile back on her face and saw them off. “Good day to you all! If you do end up needing an embalming, you know who to call~!”

They all waved to her before leaving the building and getting back in the car. After Biggs slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, instead of starting the car, he pulled out his phone, selected a contact and began dialing.

“What do we do now, boss?” DiNardo asked after being beaten to the passenger seat by Cath.

“I’m calling Ari, see if she can give us any info about the other two,” Biggs said quickly before their forensics specialist answered the phone. “Hey, Ari. What are you doing right now?”

“Running acoustics on that call that sent all three of you out into the field,” Ari replied with a chuckle. Biggs could hear the clicking of a computer mouse in the background, as well as the tapping of a keyboard. “Why?”

Biggs smirked. “Always itching for something to do, huh? Well, do you mind looking up two names for me? I need home or work addresses. Magnus Filbert and Leslie Clint.”

“Okay, just opening up a new tab here… Magnus… Filbert and… Leslie… Clint. Here we go. Magnus is a psychiatrist at Tempera Mental Clinic and Leslie is the owner of the Clint Conservation Project. Got the addresses right here.”

“Let’s go to Magnus first,” Biggs said, leaving no room for argument. “Where are we going, Ari?”

She rattled off both addresses, which Cath noted on her notepad, before quickly hanging up and getting back to analysing the phone call.

Unlike the mortuary, which was fairly close to the city, the clinic was more on the outskirts, presumably for more privacy and general peace and quiet. The building was also noticeably less well-kept, with chipping paint and scratched floors.

When the detectives went inside, the front desk was also unoccupied. There was only one person in the waiting room, a younger woman with a scar on her neck.

“Just imagine you are an ice cube melting on a hot pan…” she murmured to herself, seemingly as a mantra.

“Excuse me miss, is this the office of Dr. Filbert?” DiNardo really piled on the charm as he sat next to this woman, relaxed posture and everything.

In response, she stared at him with the widest, most disturbed thousand-yard stare they’d ever seen. 

“…yes. It is.” She eventually spoke. “S— Sorry. Hard time keeping my focus. My body feels more numb today.”

“Al…right then. Thanks, ma’am, appreciate it,” DiNardo put his hands up and rose from the chair, going back to where Biggs and Cath were standing.

“Real smooth,” Cath snarked as they walked up to the row of office doors. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to hit on random women. Especially not women in a clinic waiting room. That poor lady looked troubled enough without you waltzing in.”

“I was trying to be charismatic, so we can get an easy answer,” DiNardo huffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Whatever, doesn’t matter. Oh look, Dr. Filbert, right here.”

Biggs cast DiNardo a critical sideways glance, then knocked on the door with heavy thunks of knuckles against wood.

“Come in.”

Right after the rusty-hinged door creaked open, the group was immediately met with someone running up to them, skidding to a stop a mere inch away from them.

“New people?! New faces?! Hello! My name is Wyatt, but my friends call me Wiz! Well, not yet, but I’m asking them to! Do you know the doctor? He’s my first friend so far!”

“Wyatt, come sit back down, please. We will finish our session momentarily, right after I conclude my business with the new arrivals,” a monocle-sporting man sitting in a tall blue seat gestured to the couch where Wiz was previously sitting.

“Yes, yes!”

The bouncy ball of a man obeyed Dr. Filbert’s, Magnus’ instructions and sat back down in the middle of the rather frumpy couch, still bouncing his leg with an excited smile.

“I apologize for him, he’s been recently freed from sensory deprivation in the form of a closet he was locked in,” Magnus explained. “He’s anxious for stimulation.”

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem, doctor. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us,” Biggs nodded his head in acknowledgement at the psychiatrist. “I’m head detective Biggs of the police department. We’d like to ask about Poe Stutters. We were told by Ms. Graves we could contact you.”

Magnus’ expression of neutral interest shifted, ever so slightly. But instead of a wistful sadness like Guinevere, his looked more like… annoyance.

“He really made a mess of things back then. First with Polly, then his argument with Leslie… Frankly, I’ve always known he was bad news, but… That’s neither here nor there I suppose,” Magnus sighed. “So, what exactly did you want to know? Because I’m not too keen on talking about a falling-out that happened in college.”

“We were hoping you’d have his address,” Cath said.

“…703 Factory Lane. He was recommended when I was having computer issues. But I sought someone else as soon as I saw the last name. Now, are we finished here? I’d like to get back to Wyatt’s therapy session, and I do have another patient waiting.”

“Can you… tell us a bit about what he’s like?” Cath hesitated, but decided to ask. She didn’t want to go into this guy’s house completely blind. In addition, it’s a good question to ask to test whether Poe is the victim of this future abduction, or the perpetrator. 

Magnus chuffed. “Petulent. Ornery. Egotistical. Insufferable. Now, are we finished here?”

“Yes, thank you doctor, a good day,” Biggs nodded, starting out the door.

“Goodbye new friends! Feel free to visit again!” Wyatt waved his arm enthusiastically to see them off. 

Cath made one last little wave before following her coworkers out of the office.

“Okay cool, we got the guy’s address, no awkward conversations with exes needed,” DiNardo said after leaving the clinic.

“I do think it’s worth talking to Leslie,” Biggs responded. “Sounds like he knows him the best. And something else has been nagging at me. In one manner or another, they’ve all mentioned this name, Polly. But no one’s been telling us who she is, or what the hell happened that broke them all up in the first place.”

“From the sound of it, maybe a sister to Poe?” Cath suggested as they all got into the car. “Maybe she was friends with the group too, and Poe… did something.”

“…what if Polly is the victim we’re looking for?” DiNardo finally spoke up after a beat of silence on his part. “Listen, Poe doesn’t exactly seem like a saint here. If anything, he sounds like an all-around jerk. That’s why we needed to keep an eye on him according to the call, because it’s possible that he’s the one doing the abducting.”

“That’d definitely make sense,” Cath muttered in agreement.

“We don’t have the full story yet. First let’s talk to Leslie, then we’ll visit the man himself,” Biggs said decisively, punctuated by the rumble of the car starting.

Oh boy, if you thought Magnus’ mental clinic was far? Leslie’s conservatory center was all the way out in the sticks. At some point, the paved road had turned into foot and tire-smoothed dirt paths, branches scraping the windows as they drove by. Every couple minutes, they had to stop to not run over a rabbit or a squirrel. Eventually, they arrived at a lone log cabin. They’d thought it was a house until they saw the carved sign by the door.

“Clint Conservation Center. Yep, this is the place,” Biggs leaned out the window before rolling it back up and leaving the car. “Shall we?”

“I’ll uh, stay in the car, boss! I’m allergic to— pet dander!”

“Good thing we’re not at a pet shelter. Come on, DiNardo. I’ll drag you out of this car if I have to.”

Cath snickered. “I would’ve guessed that talking to a bitter ex is your specialty.”

“Can it, Cath.”

DiNardo slunk out of the backseat and stayed notably behind his boss and his coworker.

But before they could reach the door to knock, a loud, sharp sound pierced the air. A barking dog, getting swiftly closer judging by the ever-loudening barks, and the thundering pawsteps that accompanied it.

Right as they saw it, it was almost too late. They locked eyes with the bloodhound as soon as it lunged for a bite. However, before any of them could even say or do anything, someone had snatched the dog right from the air, holding it in their arms.

“No! Bad girl! This dang hound always pouncin’ at visitors…!” A man with a bushy beard and a worn-out hat on his head was waggling his finger at his almost monstrously huge dog. “I taught you better than this! Go on, run along now!”

He set the bloodhound down, gave it one last affectionate ruffle of its fur, and it ran off elsewhere.

“Sorry about m’ girl!” He apologized, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s a huntin’ dog! What can I do y’all for? You here to see Leslie?”

“Yes, we are. Who are you?” Biggs asked.

“I’m the prospector! I work for Leslie, carvin’ out lil nooks for his critters in exchange for keepin’ any minerals I find! Even have a little gold pannin’ station for the kiddies! They like takin’ field trips here,” the prospector tipped his hat. “Here, let me show y’all where he is! He’s been workin’ at a project lately!”

With a gesture of his arm, the man got the three detectives to follow him around the side of the cabin, then down a footpath deeper into the forest. Cath was moments away from pulling out her firearm when they finally came upon a clearing. 

With his chin and his camera resting on a stump, a man waited, patiently. A few long seconds later, they saw what for. A stoat had emerged from the underbrush, sniffing around for food. And at the perfect angle… snap!

The sound of the shutter sent the stoat scampering away, but the picture had been taken.

If the prospector had a bushy beard, this man’s was practically a rat’s nest. Untrimmed and untamed, with sticks, leaves, and pieces of bark tangled in it. He checked the newly taken photo, looking at it with a fond satisfaction before setting down the camera.

“Hello, what can I do for you all?” His voice was gravelly and deep as a ravine, eyes surprisingly intense for such a calm tone.

“They was lookin’ for ya! Though not sure what for,” the prospector said. “Why are y’all here again?”

“We wanted to ask you about Poe Stutters,” Biggs cut right to the chase. It was better to get it over with than to draw this out.

“Hmm.”

Leslie’s expression was unreadable as he kept his intense amber gaze on the detectives. “Why don’t you come inside? I’d rather talk about this matter in a place more secure. With less curious ears listening. Thank you, prospector.”

“You’re welcome, Leslie! Lemme know if you need anythin’ else! Nice meetin’ y’all!”

The prospector headed to the left, into the thick mass of trees, while Leslie led them back to the cabin, though it seemed they took the scenic route.

“This isn’t the way we came,” Cath commented stiffly.

“Yes, I apologize. I want to let my other subordinates know I am not to be disturbed,” Leslie clarified. “They mean well, but they have a tendency for… interruption.”

Even if the trip took longer than anticipated, they had to admit, this little patch of nature was beautiful. Birds chirped unique calls all around them, small animals were running beneath their feet without a care, and larger animals looked upon them curiously from the safety of the dark tree cover. Water trickled in small streams until they finally came upon the main river.

“Angler, greetings,” Leslie talked to the man sitting at the riverbed with a tackle box and what looked to be a large, handheld fishing hook beside him. The man seemed not to care a lick about the muck and silt that stained his clothes. “I’ll be in my cabin with the visitors to talk privately. Feel free to leave any of your catches in the icebox in the back.”

Unlike Leslie, this ‘Angler’ was a hulking mass of broad shoulders and muscle-thickened limbs. When he turned his head to look at his employer, they saw two fish hooks piercing his bottom lip.

“Aye. Fish a little stale.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

As they walked over the bridge, the three detectives could feel the fisherman’s lifeless eyes boring into them. But when they looked over, his attention had been redirected to his bobber resting atop the river’s surface. They each suppressed a shudder as they continued following Leslie back to the log cabin.

Once they arrived back at the front, Leslie took out a ring of old-fashioned keys, and used the largest one to unlock the cabin, letting everyone in.

Candles burned in the darkest corners of the living room, where the sunlight from the windows couldn’t reach. There was also a fireplace, but it lay barren save for some half-scorched logs. It must only be lit at nighttime to prevent the house from becoming overwarmed.

Leslie took a seat at a wooden hand-carved table. Though they doubted it was a dining table, because it bore a metal scale, a bell, rectangular markings in three rows of four, and stacks of yellowed paper cards. Absently, he took the cards and shuffled them masterfully. “What brings you to my door, asking about someone from my past? I do hope the police haven’t taken an interest in me. I prefer to keep my presence relatively hidden. Besides, I already have my permits.”

“No, no… It’s just, we got a call last night, and—”

One of the doors from inside the cabin opened, revealing someone wearing a scarf over the bottom half of their face, her eyes clouded. Was she blind? “Leslie, I have restocked the shop. Was there anything else you needed?”

“No, thank you Trader,” Leslie shook his head, unfazed by the sudden intrusion. “I was wondering where you were. If you will, I’d like a private chat with these detectives.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I did not know they were there. I will leave you be,” the Trader bowed out of the room. But before she did, her head turned ever so slightly towards Detective Biggs. Then the door shut, allowing Cath to continue.

“Anyway, we got a call last night mentioning Poe by name,” she explained. “We managed to find out you, Magnus, and Guinevere were friends with him back in the day. And since we don’t know of any other contacts he has…”

“I see. You were hoping that I would know more about him,” Leslie patted the cards’ edges onto the desk to straighten the pile, then set them down. “…what was the call about?”

“It was—”

“Someone reported his car missing. We were hoping to get a sense of whether or not this was him running away, or a theft,” Biggs smoothed over the unsure gap in Cath’s sentence with his own lie like peanut butter to bread. “We’d talked to Ms. Graves and Dr. Filbert already, and we were told that you knew Mr. Stutters the best.”

Leslie made a thoughtful hum. “Alright. I’ll try my best. Ask me whatever questions you please.”

“Do you know of—”

“Who’s Polly?”

Those two words, and Leslie’s composure visibly cracked. Eyes widening, fingers jolting, his full undivided attention on Biggs. This was the first time in years that he’d ever been intimidated by someone.

“Keep that name out of your mouth.”

Leslie must have noticed how scared everyone got, because he relaxed his posture and shut his eyes, folding his hands in front of him. “Sorry. Just an… unpleasant memory. I’m guessing that the others told you that name? The fools… Nevertheless, that name is something that you don’t need to concern yourself with. After all, you’re here to ask about Poe.”

Cath cleared her throat to dispel the thick, tense silence. “Is there anyone that might have a grudge against Poe, or vice versa?” She asked, resuming her normal questioning tone.

Leslie suppressed a laugh, but the rise and fall of his chest gave away his amusement. “A better question would be who doesn’t have a grudge against him? He’s not the most agreeable of people. Abrasive, he is. But as far as I know, everyone’s fairly lukewarm with him. As for who he might have a grudge against… Other than me, I cannot think of anyone.”

Cath looked at DiNardo, then at Biggs, turning back to Leslie. “Thank you sir, that’s very helpful.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have one more question for you before you leave…” Leslie raised a single finger. “What is this really about?”

Cath tried not to let her surprise show. “What are you talking about, we explained his car—”

“Poe doesn’t have a car, nor a driver’s license. He’s paralyzed from the waist down, and he uses a prosthetic left arm.” Leslie quickly shut down any doubling-down on the fake story. “I’m guessing he hasn’t updated his medical records in a while, at least not after his… In any case, what’s really happened? Surely, Poe’s not…?”

“No, don’t worry, he’s not dead,” Cath reassured him. “But I’m afraid we have to keep that information confidential, to preserve the integrity of the investigation.”

“I see… I understand,” Leslie sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the lack of information, but not begrudging. “If or when you go to see him, do yourselves a favor and don’t mention… that name. Do you need anything else from me?”

“No sir, thank you for your time,” Biggs spoke, getting up from the wooden chair matching the table. “We’ll be taking our leave now. Take care, Mr. Clint.”

“And you as well.”

Awkwardly, the three shuffled out of the cabin, casting wary looks at the man still sitting at the table, setting out inked cards onto the mark rectangles, paying them no mind.

“If someone told me to guess a place a serial killer would live, this would be it,” DiNardo muttered once they were close to the car. Briefly, he had to slam the trunk closed. It must have clicked open in the bumpiness of the dirt road. “And with the way Leslie talked about Polly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in on the scheme to kidnap her.”

“Let’s save the theories for after we talk to the man in question,” Biggs shut DiNardo down. “No point otherwise.”

“Also— Am I the only one who thought that Trader lady’s voice sounded familiar? Like, was she in a previous case or what?” DiNardo thought aloud.

Cath shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve never heard it.”

“Man, this is gonna be buggin’ me all day…”

Thankfully, they didn’t have to drive all the way to bumfuck nowhere to get to Poe’s address, which ended up being a condo. They were able to get his room and floor number from the front desk.

“Okay first floor, room 34…”

In practically no time at all, they found the room, which had a sign reading “Poe Stutters” above the doorframe.

“This is the place. Boss, you wanna do the honors?” 

Biggs nodded his head, then raised a closed fist to rap at the door. But right as his hand moved forward, the door was unlocked and opened.

“I— didn’t even knock yet,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. I have a hidden security cam. Mostly so nobody tries the doorbell.”

To say that Poe and his friends were night and day would be a gross understatement. While the three of them looked their age, or older in Magnus’ case, Poe still looked like he was in his twenties. Acne dotted a pasty, vaguely annoyed face donning big square glasses and bright blue eyes. And just as Leslie said, Poe was indeed in a wheelchair, with scrap metal, a blowtorch, and what looked like his prosthesis on his lap.

Greasy black hair was brushed out of Poe’s eyes as he stared them down.

“Well? Why the hell are you at my house?”

“We’re with the police department, we just want to ask a question or two,” Biggs responded. “Can we come in, or would you like to talk elsewhere?”

“I’d prefer not to talk to a cop, thanks,” Poe said dryly. “Got enough shit on my plate.”

“Just one question?” Biggs asked.

Poe rolled his eyes and readjusted his glasses. “Fine. But make it count.”

Biggs didn’t care what Leslie said. He needed answers, and he needed them straight from the source.

“Who is Polly?”

Poe actually recoiled. Like he’d been struck.

“Get inside. Now.”

With Poe’s uttered demand, Biggs, Cath, and DiNardo followed the man into the dimly lit condo, which they saw was littered with cups, paper plates, power tools, and metal. Lots of metal. As soon as the door was shut, Poe burst.

“Listen here, wise guy, I don’t know where the fuck you got that pair of balls from, but I left ‘Polly’ behind years ago!” He snapped, pointing a finger at Biggs. “She is dead and gone! I don’t care who told you about her, tell them that they need to move the fuck on! I didn’t come all this way to hear that damn name again!”

“What did you do to her?” Biggs’ arm left his side, ghosting his belt, which held his police issued gun.

“Ugh, everyone’s acting like I murdered her or something! Like I took away their best friend, their poor innocent Polly, always so nice, so polite, so innocent, and such a fucking doormat!” Poe kept yelling. “They act like I’m some bodysnatcher that replaced her! I’m nothing but a substitute to them! A fake! A shittier version of her! And you know what…?!”

Biggs’ hand had firmly planted itself on the gun, ready to defend himself or the others. However, no attack came… Poe just slumped in his wheelchair, hand gripping the armrest.

“…I’m starting to think they’re right. God, that sucks to say.”

“What are you…?”

Poe let off a heavy sigh, so heavy it seemed to have been weighing on his shoulders the whole time. “All everyone cares about is who I used to be. Even to a bunch of strangers I’ve never met, I’m still just…”

“…Polly’s your deadname.”

Cath and DiNardo both swiveled towards their boss, shocked, then turned back to Poe for confirmation.

“Emphasis on the ‘dead’,” Poe scoffed, though it seemed more defeated than smug. “What? Did you think I actually killed someone?”

They all were silent.

“Hate to disappoint, but the only thing I killed is Leslie’s interest in me,” Poe snarked. “He probably already found a wife or something that’s just like Polly. Lovesick dork.”

“He’s not a dork,” DiNardo just couldn’t help himself. “Dorks are people you shove into lockers after they bring up Magic the Gathering or chess club or something. He’s more of a green-thumb nature guy.”

“Please, he’s king dork,” Poe waved his hand. “For one, he was our DM for Dungeons and Dragons, and secondly, he’s even making his own card game called Inscryption. It’s never gonna catch on, though, so don’t expect to see it. It’s a silly game anyway.”

That explained the table setup in Leslie’s cabin.

“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding Mr. Stutters,” Biggs started. “But if we could ask you one more question.”

“Sure, why not? You’re already inside,” Poe shrugged, beginning to fiddle around with his prosthesis. “Shoot. Before I change my mind.”

“Do you know of anyone with a bone to pick with you?”

Poe kept working in silence before speaking up. “The only ones I can think of are Guinevere, Magnus, and Leslie, but if they’re seriously not over everything after almost ten years, that is just pathetic. Other than them, no. Sure, I’m mean to my clients, but they’re always satisfied with my work in the end, so…”

“Thank you sir, this was helpful,” Biggs thanked. “Make sure to give us a call if you need anything, or if you remember something.”

From his pocket, the head detective fished out a half-crumpled business card. Poe raised his eyebrow, but ultimately tucked it into his hoodie pocket.

“Alright, see ya.”

“Be careful, Mr. Stutters.”

Poe snorted a laugh, as if Biggs had told a joke. “Yeah, sure.”

The man went back to focusing on his machines as the detectives left, as if they were never there.

“So we’re back at square one,” DiNardo crossed his arms. “We didn’t learn anything other than the fact that Poe is the rudest computer geek we’ve ever met.”

“It’s not like we’ve learned nothing,” Cath argued. “Now that we’ve met him, and now that we know who ‘Polly’ was, I really don’t think Poe’s the kidnapper in this scenario.”

“You know what boss, this might’ve all just been a hoax,” DiNardo put his hands up in surrender. “At least we can say we investigated it, right? Call it a day? Because clearly nothing’s gonna happen. There’s no suspects, no evidence, no motives, so no crime!”

“Detective Biggs? What do you think?”

Both detectives turned to their boss for his input, because he’d been silent thus far throughout this exchange.

“What’s your gut telling ya?” DiNardo asked.

“It’s telling me that this isn’t over,” Biggs finally said. “But for now, let’s regroup and see what Ari found.”

DiNardo obviously didn’t believe him, but he didn’t protest. After all, neither he nor Cath could remember the last time Biggs was wrong.

So they got in the car and finally headed back to the station. To be honest, they’d completely lost track of time while they were out in the field doing their interviews. The drama was just that good, they supposed.

Right as they pulled into the parking lot of the building, Cath pointed out something that had been sticking out like a sore thumb the entire ride.

“Okay, we all smell that, right?” She said. “Did one of us step in something or what, because it smells disgusting in here.”

“Well whatever it is, it’s not from the dog,” DiNardo commented. “Smells more like a Red Lobster’s dumpster.”

“That’s awfully specific. You been in one?” Biggs remarked.

“No no, but you get what I mean, right?”

“I actually agree with him, it smells like a fish died,” Cath agreed.

Once they were parked, the three emerged from the car and looked around on the floor, the front seats, until they opened their trunk. Right after the cover clicked open, they all choked from the overwhelming stench that emanated from it.

“Yep, found it,” DiNardo wheezed, trying not to inhale with his nose. “God, I can taste it…”

“Something must have gotten in when we went to Leslie’s cabin, since the trunk was opened a crack,” Cath reasoned. “There’s nothing in there anymore, so it… must’ve gotten out.”

“Hopefully far away from here,” DiNardo almost gagged. “If no one inside has air freshener, I’m going out and buying two cans asap.”

They decided to just close the trunk of the car for now and go inside, hoping they didn’t smell like fish. Thankfully, it seemed like they didn’t, since no one pointed it out as they took the elevator to Ari’s forensics lab.

“Hey Ari, what’d you find out about the call?” Biggs knocked on the doorframe to let the forensic specialist know they were there.

“Not even a hello?” Ari playfully needled. “Okay then, way to make me feel appreciated…! Anyway, I finished analyzing the acoustics.”

Biggs chuckled at Ari’s reaction. “Sorry. Good afternoon Ari, now what’s the deal with the call?”

“There we go, that’s the ticket! So the voice is definitely female, but it’s muffled by something, like a mask, but definitely cloth-like. Also, I looked at how sound echoed around the room, and the walls were a little more absorbent of sound than we usually see, so it’s either soundproofed, or it’s wood.”

Biggs, DiNardo, and Cath all had the same thought. They all glanced at each other, then at Ari.

“What? You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ari joked, though secretly, concern was building in her chest.

“The Trader, she had a scarf over her face,” Cath started.

“And she was inside the cabin when we saw her,” it seemed like DiNardo and Cath were thinking the same thought. “But— How could she have known there would be an abduction?”

“She saw the one who was planning it.”

“But— But who? And why?” DiNardo sputtered.

“We need to go back to Leslie’s conservation center and find that out,” Biggs was already starting towards the door despite just getting there.

“But what about Poe? We need to warn him,” Cath ran after him.

“We’ll split up then. Me and DiNardo will go to Leslie, you check on Poe.”

They didn’t have time to talk over their orders, so they just went along with their boss’ instructions, Biggs and DiNardo taking the same car while Cath took her own. Both headed in opposite directions, Cath towards the city and her associates away from it.

Cath’s parking job looked like she had ten shots of whiskey, but she didn’t want to waste time not being crooked when said time could very well be limited. She remembered the room number, and didn’t even turn towards the front desk as she speedwalked to the door.

Upon seeing the door, she had the heart-plummeting realization that the time was not enough.

The door was open, ajar. And when Cath looked inside, even the preexisting mess inside the condo was messier than before. But worse still, the one thing that solidified the dreadful stone in her stomach… was the knocked-over wheelchair near the corner of the room, and the prosthesis laying beside it. Was that where it fell? Was it kicked away? Maybe if Cath had been there a little sooner, she would have known… Would she?

“…shit. Shit, shit…! I need to call Biggs,” Cath got out her phone with frantic hands. But DiNardo had called her first.

“Poe is gone!” she cried into the phone right after picking up.

“So’s the Angler,” DiNardo said. “Fuck, he must have climbed into the trunk! Then he got out once we got to Poe’s place! That’s why it stank of fish…! Shit, we led him right to Poe!”

“But why? Leslie’s the ex, not him!” Cath demanded.

“We’ll have to ask him when we find him,” Biggs interrupted from DiNardo’s end. “Sweep the immediate area, we don’t know how fast he’s able to travel, but we need to cover all our bases.”

“Yes sir. I’ll call you when I find them.”

As soon as Cath hung up, DiNardo and Biggs were spooked by Leslie standing behind them, jumping a little where they stood.

“I know where the Angler would have taken him,” he said softly. “I can show you the way. That fool… I can’t believe he’s done something this drastic.”

“What are you talking about? Here, tell us on the way.”

Once again, DiNardo got the front seat usurped from him, so Leslie could more easily help Biggs navigate, but there were more important things on his mind.

“I confide in my subordinates from time to time, and the Angler makes for a good listener,” Leslie began. “So… I told him about Poe, and… how our relationship ended. I should have seen it. There was this… devilish gleam to his eye after I explained. But when he didn’t say anything about it, I dismissed it as my mind playing tricks on me.”

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Clint,” Biggs said firmly. “Nobody normally thinks their friends would do something like this. So where are you taking me?”

“There’s a shack by the pier that he owns,” Leslie replied. “He runs a fishing shop on the side, and that’s where he stores all his catches. It’s also not that far from where Poe lives.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’ve been… keeping track of him… I’d been hoping to pay him a visit and talk, but… Well, you can imagine my dilemma.”

“Fresh fish. Good gift.”

“Let me go, you fucking maniac! I’m not a fish!” Poe yelled, trying in vain to worm out of the Angler’s hold, hitting him with his free arm. But without feeling in his legs, nothing came of it except a tighter grip on him. “I swear to god, I’m gonna fucking kill you! You hear me?! I get out of here, and you’re dead!”

“Keep fish secure, fresh for Leslie.”

“Did he put you up to this?! God, I knew he was a creep!”

“Not request. Surprise gift for Leslie,” the Angler shook his head. Even with Poe over his shoulder, he easily took out a key and unlocked the door to a wooden shack.

He closed the door behind him, locked it, and set Poe down, immediately taking his eyes off his prisoner to rifle through a chest in the corner of the room. The rest of the shack gave Poe some very bad feelings, especially with the large fish hooks hanging from the rafters, some occupied by fish, others empty.

Poe wanted to open his mouth and keep up his tough talk, but for once, he decided to shut up and use his right arm, his only arm at this point, since that jerk attacked before he could attach his prosthesis to his left, to pull himself across the floor while Angler was distracted. He would make his way to the door, prop himself up against it, unlock the door, and get outside. What would he do once he was out there? No clue, but it’s better than staying here.

Unfortunately, his half-backed plan was stopped in its tracks before he even got to the door. Something cold and thin had been snaked around his neck from behind with a surprising stealth. When Poe looked down, he saw it was a fishhook, similar to the ones strung up, though its point looked much sharper, and was dangerously close to his throat.

He swallowed thickly, keeping his eyes on the hook, the cool, steely body now pressing itself more onto his neck. “I— I wasn’t gonna do anything, just so you know. I was just trying to get some fresh— fresh air.”

The Angler said nothing in response to Poe’s blatant lie. He took the seawater-sodden plastic rope, probably used for stringing up nets, and roughly began wrapping it around him.

“Ow! Careful! I’m not just a piece of meat to truss! Hey, watch the back! I’m paraplegic for a reason!”

Despite all of Poe’s loud complaining, Angler kept working diligently until Poe was properly tied.

“So what are you gonna do with me, huh?” Poe began to taunt, even as Angler picked him back up like he weighed absolutely nothing, then plopped him down in a chair. Even as he sat there, completely unable to move, Poe puffed out his chest and kept his head held high with unearned cockiness. “Sell me? Kill me? Gut me like a fish— Oh, god damn it! Now you got me talking about fish!”

“…loud.”

“Oh yeah! I’ll be as loud as it takes if it’ll keep you—”

A rag was quickly pressed to his mouth, almost instantly muffling his shit-talking, secured with a tight knot on the back of his head. Not that it stopped him from trying.

When Poe’s attitude didn’t stop, a salt-roughened hand grabbed a fistful of his hair. That shut him right up, though he still tried projecting a defiant glare at the Angler.

“Fish do not whine. Fish listen to me.”

Poe would have made a snarky comment about Angler talking to fish, if not for the point of the large fish hook in the Angler’s other hand now grazing the underside of his chin.

“Problem fish get flayed early.”

There really was no getting out of this was there? Sure, Poe could flap his lips all he wanted, but there was no stopping the Angler from doing what he set out to do. Not that Poe knew what that was.

His eyes followed the hook’s point as it traced along his jaw, slowly, carefully, only barely piercing skin.

“Don’t tell me he’s enjoying this…?! Fuckin’ pervert…”

“Pretty fish, special for Leslie,” the Angler rumbled. 

One wrong motion while the hook was being pulled away, and Poe winced as it nicked him. The pain was sharp, stinging, and droplets of blood already started to build up and start to drip. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was done on purpose just to watch him flinch.

Finally, the hook was resting at the Angler’s side, and his other hand let go of Poe’s short hair. Once again, he was lifted up, this time slightly above the fisherman’s head, and shifted until a few loops of the rope caught on something. Judging from Poe’s distance from the ground, one of the dangling fish hooks. He hated how dizzying it was; being completely overpowered. 

Poe spent years of his life making sure his immovable legs and his missing arm would never leave him powerless, that he would always have control of his body, and his life. But right now, he had neither. He was at the mercy of someone else. He almost didn’t even care about the threat the Angler posed, all he could think about was the utter humiliation this brought him. Being picked up and carried around and manipulated like a doll.

“Have to call Leslie. Show him new fish.”

Angler stepped away from Poe and took out his phone from his pocket, dialing Leslie with slow presses of the number buttons.

“He types like an old man,” Poe just couldn’t help himself. He rolled his eyes.

As his eyes went back to their place staring at the Angler, something caught the corners of them. It was something in the grimy glass window.

“Isn’t that one of those detectives from earlier? Oh thank god, I’m saved! Not— Not that I couldn’t have saved myself, of course.”

We all know that’s a lie, but that’s neither here nor there. What was here was DiNardo, taking a quick peek through the window, then shuffling away. To where, Poe didn’t know, until he heard a knocking at the door.

“Is this idiot really using the door? I sure hope he can take fucking fisherman Michael Myers here in a fight. Whatever, he’s probably got a gun or something.”

The Angler’s phone was still held up to his ear as he turned towards the door.

“Leslie here?”

The Angler shambled over and turned the doorknob, opening the door with his phone still in his other hand.

“Nevermind. However stupid that detective is, the Angler’s clearly dumber.”

“Gonna need you to put that phone down and put your hands up, sir,” DiNardo did indeed have a firearm, and kept it pointed at the fisherman. “You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Poe Stutters.”

“Not Leslie. Fish not for you.”

Before the trigger could be pulled, the gun was smacked right out of DiNardo’s hand, and Angler’s fist was reeled back for a punch.

DiNardo dipped down and dashed past the man before the punch could land on him. The Angler’s fist ended up getting stuck into the newly-cracked wood. While DiNardo was behind him, he rammed his shoulder into his back, intending to knock him over. Unfortunately, the Angler didn’t even stumble. He just yanked his fist back and stared down the dumbfounded detective.

Poe wanted to chastise DiNardo for that stupid move, but it just came out as muffled mumbling.

“Cut me some slack, Stutters,” DiNardo seemed to know what he was trying to say regardless. “I’ll get you out of here, I just need a little—”

One backhand from the Angler was enough to send him tumbling to the edge of the room, against the wall. How strong was this freak of nature…?!

As DiNardo recovered, the Angler grabbed Poe by the front of his shirt and pulled him off the hook. Now he was held with his back to the fisherman’s chest, the handheld hook making a reappearance with the point resting right on his adam’s apple.

“Leave catch for Leslie, or fish get turned into bait.”

The threat was made through simple, crudely-arranged sentences, but it communicated the chilling intent all the same.

It took Poe all the mental grip he had not to tremble, not to give the Angler a sliver of his fear. But that hold on himself was slipping. He was staring between the hook and DiNardo, as if to tell him to just do something, but… they both knew there was nothing that could be done.

“Angler, this is no longer necessary.”

The new voice made everyone’s attention divert towards the door that nobody noticed was opened. It was Leslie, looking perfectly calm, as if this were a brunch.

He walked towards the Angler, his piercing gaze never leaving his face, as if DiNardo weren’t even there. Then once he was almost uncomfortably close, towering a few inches over the Angler, he finally looked at Poe.

With delicate fingers, Leslie tilted Poe’s crooked glasses back to their proper place, pushing them back up his nose.

“Let go of Poe, please. I can handle this from here.”

The Angler did as he was bade, handing the man over to his boss. Leslie held Poe aloft, amber meeting blue as they stared into each other’s eyes with a mixture of emotions on both of their parts.

Then, after seconds that felt like hours with bated breath, Leslie handed Poe to DiNardo.

“We will take him back to the police station. As soon as I take care of business.”

“Leslie—”

Leslie’s hand sprang from his side like a lunging snake ready to bite, closing itself around the Angler’s throat.

“It appears that you have forgotten your place, Angler,” Leslie’s voice was quiet, but it absolutely was not soft. “Your only job was to obey my orders. This was not one of them. I am not saving you from this. If you do not go quietly to your trial, I will happily serve as your judge, jury, and executioner. Do not embarrass me more than you already have.”

“…yes Leslie…”

It was surprising just how guilty the Angler looked. Did he really think his boss would have wanted him to kidnap his ex?

Regardless, DiNardo was grateful for Leslie’s help, as getting Angler in handcuffs and into the police car was much easier than he predicted.

By that time, Poe had been untied and ungagged. He watched Angler with an angry scowl.

“See you in court, dickhead!” he jeered as he was carried past by Leslie.

Biggs congratulated DiNardo for his work with a muttered ‘good job’ and a firm pat on the shoulder before getting into the police car to drive Angler to the station.

“Unfortunately, I need to interview the both of you, so if you could come with me?” Cath requested, gesturing towards her car.

“Yeah sure, I’ll just regale you with the tale of the worst day of my life,” Poe sniffed. “But fine. Since it’s procedure and all.”

“You two can get in the backseat, I need to talk to Detective DiNardo for a second,” Cath told them, walking over to her coworker.

As instructed, Leslie and Poe got into the backseat of the car that thankfully wasn’t the one that stank of dead fish.

“So…”

“So… um…”

After a moment of looking everywhere except the other person, they finally met each other’s gaze once again.

Poe made a long, drawn-out, annoyed sigh. “I suppose I should thank you for saving me. It’s not your fault your employees are fuckin’ psychos.”

“I still must take responsibility," Leslie responded with a slight shake of his head. “I’m sorry I let this happen.”

“It’s… fine I guess.”

“…”

Silence once more. 

“Okay, are we seriously just not gonna address the elephant in the room here?” Poe burst out, gesticulating with his arm. “Are we— what? Just gonna go back to avoiding each other? And— why go through all this trouble just to come to my rescue? I thought you hated me.”

“Oh Poe…” Leslie’s intense expression softened. “I had many complicated feelings when you first transitioned. You had changed so much, and you seemed so… miserable. It felt like something was lost when you changed. I only realized too late that you changed into something that was more like yourself.”

“Well… Why— Why say all this now?” Poe stammered, trying to keep the upper hand on the conversation, as he always did.

“Because now I can fully appreciate it; just how fine of a man you’ve turned into.”

Just like that, all leverage that Poe thought he had in their conversation was gone. The faux-nonchalance was dropped like a weight, leaving behind a stunned, wide-eyed face. If Poe could see himself right now, he’d think he looked absolutely foolish.

“You’re rude, you’re egotistical, and you’re petulant, and lord above, you are messy,” Leslie said with the utmost reverence. “But there’s an earnestness to that. A sincerity that Polly had always been lacking. It’s that spark of life that I want to see so much more of.”

Even with Poe’s heart beating a hundred miles a minute, he plastered on a smirk, though it looked a lot more dorky than he thought it did. “Please, you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

“I welcome a challenge.”

“You did always like the chase, huh, Leslie?”

“Don’t tempt me now, we’re not alone, you know.”

“Oh my god, you are filthy. Though, I guess I’ll indulge you.”

“How generous.”

And now they’re making out. Of course.

“…do they realize we can see them?” Cath leaned towards DiNardo to whisper to him, staring at Leslie and Poe in the backseat.

“Probably not,” DiNardo shrugged.