Chapter 7: Detective Miller

After Ian's mysterious breakdown, the story now focuses on a famous and iconic detective who is bloodthirsty after the man who murdered his wife.

Chapter 7: Detective Miller

Last night

 

DI Miller was in his office, drinking a cold cup of bitter coffee. The coffee was awful, but it was the only thing he had in his cold office. It was 11 at night, and DI Miller was staying late at work. He was about to solve his case, but after 13 hours of non-stop working, his brain was fried. He wouldn’t even call himself a detective. Miller was in his early 50’s but he would never stop working for the police force. It just called to him, even when he became a widower a few months ago. He was dealing with a great force of depression, but working for cases for hours helped him. He barely had time to let his mind graze over Grace. That was all he allowed himself to think about before he shut down, knowing if he ventured further he would fall apart completely. He was numb and hurting, and he welcomed it with better pleasure.

DI Miller twirls a pen in his hand, trying to get his brain back on. The atmosphere was quiet, and there was no sign of anyone else working late. The criminal he was trying to capture was something he was working on for a few years now, either alone without the police force or with them. This man was something worth more than a criminal to Miller, something way more. He looks down at his papers scattered all over his desk, a dim lamp trying to spread its light across the wood. There were several pictures of the man, having fake tattoos or changing his appearance. He was spotted several times out in the city, and disposed burner phones were found out in a land dump with his fingerprints attached to them. That was a while back though. The police force stopped looking for him after all these years, but Miller continued his search. This criminal was very valuable to him.

Miller looks at the phone on his desk, everything silent around him. He picks up the phone and dials a number, waiting silently until it picks up. “DI Miller. What a pleasure.”

“Cut the bullshit Den, get out of bed with whoever you’re with now and get down to the office. That’s an order.” Detective Den cuts his breathing short, and Miller almost thought he was going to backtalk his orders. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way in 10.” Miller puts back the phone, the plastic clanking was the only noise in his big office. Miller rubs at his eyes with fists and sighs. He was getting tired.

Miller looks down at the papers once more, a mild headache ringing in his mind. The man had several fake identities, using fake names to get into the black market business. He was working somewhere in the city, and every time Miller got close enough to finally catch the man he would slip away from under his nose with a clever trick up his sleeve. The criminal reminded him of all the clever delinquents he tried to catch a long time ago. But they didn’t get too far from the city. Apparently, this one did though, and it angered Miller. He shuffles papers on his desk, trying to be productive without thinking. It was no use though, so he just sat there quietly and waited for Den to arrive.

 

Den arrived 30 minutes late. Miller just sat there the whole time, a defeated look on his face was present. Den closes the door quietly and casually sits in a chair, his face smug. “Having fun with your girlfriend in bed?” Den’s face falls. “Sir, she wouldn’t let me leave. ‘Bloody work,’ She would always say, trying to keep me stay.”

“Enough with the excuses okay? What we need is to find him. He can’t be too far from the office, a hideout in the city maybe?” Den just shrugs. “I’m not so sure, sir. Nothing I found out would be useful.”

“I know, you’re such a failure.” Den smiles deviously. “I know, sir. I am such a failure.” Den grabs a paper from his desk, looking it over and tossing it back on the table. He was a good-looking man, in his early 30’s too. “Why don’t we focus on the latest? Last sightings were at some low-level bar at midnight. He was giving the man drug cash. Traced it back and it was from the heist a couple of years ago. Now we found it.”

“And where did you get the information?” Den asks. Miller sighs, “Security camera. Too dumb to go into the bathroom.”

“Who was the man?” Den asks, taking another report from his desk, then scans it thoroughly. “There’s supposed to be three of them there. Suspect included.” Den says, looking up from the paper. He smiles. “S**t, were they?” Den hands Miller the paper, and Miller reads it with hungry eyes. Den was right. There was a sighting of three men together, though the third looked like he was ordering a drink. The fuzzy, black and white picture had the criminal included. The third man was taller than the suspect, and he stood by his side, looking at the bartender instead of the group. What were they trading untraceable money for?

“Do you identify the taker?” Miller asks. He studies the picture then hands it back to Den. “Negative. I’ll search it right now sir if you want me to.”

“Yes go ahead and do that.” Den gets up and goes to a counter, one of the perks of having a big office. Miller scans through other reports but finds nothing else useful. When he looks back, Den was typing furiously away. “Any luck?” Miller asks after a few minutes. “Almost there. S**t, this guy is sheltered well. There are only a few matches of reports in a few cities spread out from the state. All were at bars or terrible clubs. The man is short from some security cameras, but he doesn’t seem like a filthy criminal. Must be black market. No wonder why the drug money was being used. They were trading something, but what?”

 

“That’s what we're trying to find out here, Den? Do you know his name?”

“Yeah, just came up. There’s a bunch of fake IDs here. How did we not find this guy sooner?” Den cries.

“I’m not sure. Must be well-protected here. Very cautious, but from what you’re saying he must be clean. This guy must make millions. Have you found any name yet?” There was a moment’s silence when Den replies with a positive. “Uh, yeah, I found an old driver’s license. Name… Is…. Uh, John Vedder?”

Miller writes down the name on a clean sheet of notepad. Then writes complicated questions related to the trading. What were they trading for? And if they have the money, was the heist on their part? “I hope they are still in our area,” Miller says, his thoughts spinning puzzle pieces. But he couldn’t catch the pieces at all. DI Miller starts to bite his thumb. “Search the other man. Not the suspect. We already know who that son of a b***h is.” Den gives a silent thumbs up from behind his back and starts to type again.

 

Ten minutes after searching for the man, results became positive again. “Found him!” Den says.

“Who?”

“S**t, you’re not gonna like this.”

“Who is he?” Miller says, impatient.

“Derrick Shay,” Den says. “Criminal charges the last few months, and sightings were out of the city limits, along-“

“Of course, with the man himself. I know. They're working together most likely. They were both spotted in the same exact area, so there must be something there.” Den nods his agreement. “Exactly, sir. But my question is what are they planning? Suspect hasn’t gotten any charges since the starting of August. He must be planning something big, considering the trading and area he was found in.”

Miller nods his agreement. Whatever he was planning, DI Miller was going to catch him no matter the cost.

 

Den left after an hour or so of brainstorming. Miller went through papers from there, trying to find missing pieces of the puzzle, but nothing came related. He searched more about John Vedder, not knowing him. He was a criminal from a young age, the first record was stealing at a 7-11. Speeding records, moving cities, and even accused of murder. How did this man not be found? He was accused of murder, from what records say, 2 years ago. Was on the move from there, and he probably ended up somewhere here. How did the police not even catch this man? He’s been living in this city for a while now, and searches of his ID should have come up by now. Miller sighs. A famous detective couldn’t even solve this case, and that even lead to other cases. His mind spun with thoughts, trying to catch them, but he came up empty handed. He needed to catch his first suspect, then the others. Interrogate him, then dispose of his body after, wiping everything clean from his records. The police force wouldn’t suspect him if he was careful, which meant the plan was less risky. Den didn’t know, but the only person that knew was a dead person, and yet dead men don’t tell lies. Miller thought about the man dead, and he smiles. This was only between Miller and him, and nothing was going to get in the way. Miller picks up the original report with the three men, and looks at the man himself. He blood starts to boil at the sight. “I swear to God, I will find you, and I will kill you ever so slowly. I tell Grace this and I tell you, I will kill you. You did this to Grace, and I’ll do this to you.” Miller hisses under his breath. And with that he crumples the paper and tosses on his desk, standing up and leaving his office, shutting the door behind him with a slam.

I’m sorry Grace, but I have to do this.

 

As DI Miller left the office, a scorching hot heat engulfed his back, and he felt himself go flying off his feet and rolling on the concrete. Miller immediately pulls out his gun, which he always kept on him when known as one of the most famous detectives that kicked a*s. He gets to his feet and looks behind him, his heart sinking in his chest. The whole office was in flames, and all his work was destroyed. But he was glad his blood wasn’t raining down into the flames. There was no time to investigate though. If somebody just blew this up, they were obviously intending to kill him. Miller runs, not even taking a glance back. Behind him, he could hear screams bubbling up, but he paid no attention to them. He was running and weaving towards the side of the forest, looking up every so often. But the night held nothing more than thick smoke and star lights. Miller could only hear nothing but his heavy breath and the crackle of fire as he pumped his legs. He follows a dirt road and turns left, more or so into the forest. He sprints from there, and takes a quick glance behind him. There was nothing pursuing him. So what was the explosion? Miller runs for another 5 minutes before ignoring his instincts and slows down. It was black from here, and Miller was glad he didn’t trip on anything. The only thing that penetrated the silence of the night was his heavy breathing. It was too silent, and Miller’s mood became eerie. There was no chirping of crickets and no generic night owl hoots.

Miller looks in all directions, gun pointed to soft earth. Nothing came out and tried to shoot at him, but he still stayed on end. He walks slowly now, wishing he could have taken his car. Miller takes out his own cell phone, dialing Den. He answers five rings late. “What the hell is going on here!” Den answers. Miller could hear he was running by his heavy breath and the crunch of gravel. “Where are you?” Miller says, trying to act calm in front of him, but his heavy breathing gave it away. The sprint killed him. “She’s dead! She’s dead! Miller, she’s dead!”

“Who’s dead?” Miller could hear Den was trying to hold it together, but he completely fell. “She’s dead Miller! She’s dead! Please,” Den cries. Miller takes in a deep breath. “Who’s dead? Den you have to stay calm. Where are you?”

“For Christ’s sake Miller! D****t she’s dead! Ren’s dead! She tried to-“

“Ren? What happened? Where are you?”

“She tried to, like bite me. Please Miller, don’t make me do this!” What the hell did he just say? Miller stops walking and focuses on his phone. Ren just tried to bite him? “Was she attacking you? What happened exactly tell me. I’m on-“ Miller looks around, trying to find a street sign, but he was surrounded by forest. Up ahead was an opening, and behind him was still dirt. He hoped it would change to road, and hope surges inside of him. Miller was going to get to the bottom of this and find out who caused this.

“Den, you have to stay with me,” Miller says, running at the same time. With the gun in his right hand and phone in his left, he tries to calm Den, but it was no use. He was mumbling, and Miller couldn’t hear a word he was saying. “Miller! She tried to bite me. Please, oh please, please, please.” Miller needed to know what was happening, and Den wasn’t helping with his crying. “Shut the hell up! I need to know what’s happening right now.” Den says nothing, and Miller could almost see his jaw clamp and tighten. “Where are you?”

“I’m working on it.” Miller hisses to him, wasting no breath on his attitude. Miller reaches the opening, and finds it was an intersection. The next step he took was on smooth and cold concrete, which made him relieved. Miller squints up to look at the sign. “I’m on 47^th. You didn’t get far before this happened. Where are you now?” There was a moment of silence then Den says, “I see you!”

Miller turns to his right, and sees Den running towards him, his dark figure taller and lean. Miller pockets his phone, and looks behind him. The road he just traveled was empty. “What the hell happened to you?” Den says, panting as he approached Miller. But he wasn’t replying anytime soon. He motions for Den to follow, and Miller sprints back into the woods, where they were fully engulfed. Once there, Den repeats the question. “Nothing, the police station just exploded into flames, almost got me there. I ran from here, do you know what’s happening?”

“Yeah, almost getting blown up is nothing.” Den says sadly. He must be taking Ren’s death badly. She was his girlfriend, but the relationship only started a few weeks ago. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No, sir. I went back, and Ren was there. She didn’t look too good, and I noticed a bite mark on her shoulder and-“

“Wait what? She had a bite mark on her shoulder? From what?”

“I, I couldn’t tell. I’m not sure but our front door was open. She was convulsing and then like, you’re not gonna’ believe this bullshit!” Den snaps, he grips his hair and turns away from Miller. Miller waits patiently, though inside he was screaming at him to grip it together. Den turns back and breathes silently, scrunching his eyes up. “S**t s**t s**t! D****t why? Why!” Den thrashes and punches a thin tree, the bark snapping and flying in little pieces. Miller could see something gleaming on his knuckles and realizes it was blood. “Jesus calm down Den! Get it together man!” Den glares at Miller, and hatred gleams in his eyes, but he says nothing. “She’s dead. I had to kill her after she attac-“ Den chokes up. “attacked me. It was like out of some movie. Her eyes were all black and her major arteries were all like, black! Okay? She attacked me like a zombie and I had to kill her!” He sobs. This wasn’t connecting to Miller. His office got exploded and now it was like he was thrown in some zombie movie. Miller curses loudly, and Den’s body trembles. “Is the news working?”

“I already tried. Nothing’s responding. What do we do now?” But Miller couldn’t reply. A question still burned in his mind before he did anything. “Did you get hurt?” Miller asks. Den gives him a weird glance. “No, she didn’t bite me.” Miller pulls out his phone and dials the police station, but there was no answer. It kept on ringing and ringing, but no one picked up. He dials 9-11, and to his suspicion they don’t pick up either. DI Miller curses once more, and looks to Den, who was leaning against a tree. He seemed pretty calm, which was nerve wracking to Miller. “They’re not picking up…” Miller says, but the conversation goes into empty silence. For once, Miller really did wish he died with Grace.

“We run as far away from here, I’ll tell you. Grasslands or some s**t. Just not in the city.”

 “But,”

 “Do you want to die, Den? Do you want to go see someone? Well guess what? You can’t. If what you say is true and this is some crazy s**t, then we need to leave. ASAP.” Den looks uncertain, but what was he going to do? If he left Miller, than he would probably get killed. He could tell by the way Den was just standing there, his whole body shaking with fear. Miller himself was scared half to death too, but he sure as hell didn’t show it. That could get you killed.

 

Author's Note

Please comment and tell me what you think (On the verge of becoming desperate)