Cops Or Criminals

Murder is something that I’ve had to deal with as part of my job. It always makes me wonder why people do it. What circumstances brought them to the conclusion that they must murder someone to fix their problems. Having said that, a murder very rarely touched me on a personal level. It got very personal with Evan’s murder.

We had been friends since primary school. Second grade to be precise. We were as close as any two friends had been. Sure, we parted ways when he got higher education and I took a job at the library, but we just didn’t get as much time to see each other anymore. He went on to become a scientist of sorts – I could hardly ever understand what he was talking about. I managed to get into the police force.

More recently though, we both found ourselves some free weekends, and it was like we were back on school holidays. Admittedly, it did seem as though something had been bothering him.

Naturally his death was a shock to my system. I’d been sleeping when the call came in. But in recent times, that wasn’t unusual. The case I was working on had been wearing me out like tires on a racecar. I found myself asleep more often than not when I wasn’t on the sites or at the station. My case killer had left almost no clues, and yet they had committed two murders that we knew about. Both in the same fashion. With Evan’s murder, the count grew to three. Three within a week. The bastard had just gone too far. He just fucked with the wrong bull.

I was laid off the case because of personal attachments, or some bullshit. That, and apparently it looked like I needed a break. The way I figured it, I should have been allowed to stay just because of that. Either way I was still going to get the murderer.

I’d managed to keep a hold of some of the notes, the information from the crime scenes, and also some dirt on Evan’s murder through another officer who owed me a debt. I sat for hours on end looking over them, hypothesizing, analysing, and creating scenarios – anything that would help me to work it out.

Nothing. I couldn’t work a damn thing out. Not the way I was doing it anyway. None of the angles I normally covered in a murder case showed up anything. This guy clearly had a good idea of how murder investigations were run.

In a moment of complete clarity, a solution came to me: the victims all had an association with each other at some point. This guy was killing them for a reason. They all had a connection to each other, but it must have been something else about them that warranted their deaths.

Before I could think the matter through any further, I found my fatigue catching up with me. I looked at the clock: only 2.30pm, but I’d been awake for nearly forty hours straight. I could hardly make it to the bed before I collapsed.

*

I woke up, confused, cold, and nowhere near my bed.
I tried to stand up, but my legs gave way. I held my arms out to stop my fall. My arms felt tired. I felt tired. More so than when I’d gone to sleep.
I was in the bathroom. A look in the mirror, and I saw that my looks agreed with my feelings.

I stood up again, this time moving slower. I moved through to the lounge where all my notes were. I froze in the doorway. I couldn’t believe it. All the notes I’d kept, the ones I’d made, were all over the room, ripped, torn, spread all over.
All the work I’d done, was literally torn apart.

Could someone have entered my apartment while I was asleep and done this? Did they drag me to the bathroom? Why wouldn’t I wake up if that were the case? Was I that tired? Was I somehow drugged? Was it someone trying to stop me from figuring out the case? Was it the killer? If so, why didn’t they kill me too?

Crazy thoughts were flying all through my head, questions with no answers, statements that made no sense, and random flashes of thought that were only there long enough to be recognized as such.

I let myself fall onto the couch. I was at a loss. I was too tired to clean up the mess. I sat there, just staring at a sheet of paper lying upright against the opposite wall for an hour or more.


Eventually I got up. Made myself a strong hot coffee. I didn’t particularly enjoy coffee, but it always helped to wake me. It didn’t fail now.

With my slightly better awareness I moved around the room picking up all the bits of paper that I could find. It was clear that a lot of it wouldn’t be possible to be put back together again.

I was putting the papers back onto my desk when I saw it: a message written on a page, which had previously been facing the other way.

“Drop it, or I’ll come back”.

It seemed obvious to me that this guy was letting me off with a light warning. He could come back at any point in time to finish me off. Well screw that. I’m going to take what I’ve learned to my superior. Catch the bastard before he gets back to me.
I picked up what I wanted, packed it into the car and drove to the station. I could feel my eyes starting to droop during the drive. It’s a good thing I live near to the station otherwise the drive may have been too long to make it awake.

I had the audience of the lead investigator and my superior. I told them what I’d figured out and what had happened. The whole time I was struggling to keep awake. After a half hour of explanation they both left the room, claiming to be coming back shortly.

I felt myself slipping in and out of awareness. Images flashed past my eyes, the crime scenes prominent, the mess at my house, sitting in Evan’s lounge, two other friends of Evan’s with me.

At first I didn’t recognise them. But as I fought away my sleep, I realised that they were the other two victims that Evan’s killer had so methodically disposed of.

The metaphorical shit hit my internal fan as it dawned on me that I had met with all three of the victims shortly before their deaths.

I rushed out of the room in search of my superior, managing to keep myself awake, but only just. I was nearly dead on my feet. My superior was in his office talking to the lead investigator. I entered the room, interrupting their conversation, told them what had come to mind, in slurred, slow wording. Sleep, took care of me from that point.

*

I woke up in an uncomfortable bed. I had a massive headache too. I eased myself into a sitting position, and massaged my head.
After a few minutes I stood up, taking in my surroundings. I was in one of the detainment cells, usually used for overnighters.

They must have carried me here after I fell asleep in the superior’s office. I went to push the cell door open, but it wouldn’t move. Someone had locked it. I called out. Once, twice, three times before I heard footsteps coming towards me. It was one of the other officers I worked with.

“Hey, it’s locked. Can you let me out?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. Chief’s orders,” he said, looking concerned.
“What do you mean?” I demanded.

He just apologised and walked away. I couldn’t believe it. How dare they detain me! And without any reason either! I sat back on my bed. Maybe they thought I had something to do with the murders, but that was nonsense. Of course I didn’t have anything to do with them.

Not two minutes later, I heard more footsteps. It was my superior and the lead investigator. I stood to speak with them.

“Why have you locked me in?” I demanded. I fought to control the anger boiling under the surface.

“There have been … recent developments in the case. Two, actually,” my superior answered.

“And what does that have to do with me?” I spat out.

“It has everything to do with you, Tyler. Tell me, what is the last thing you remember before waking up in this cell?”

“ I was talking to you about something in your office. About something I don’t remember doing.”

“That’s what we thought.” He looked sad, upset. “We also recovered a home video from Evan Poole’s apartment. Unfortunately, that video puts you in a bad spot. However, it is evidence that you can’t be held totally responsible for your actions. Something we saw in my office after you came in.”

“What? What do you mean? I was so tired I just fell asleep. I didn’t do anything else!”

“Yes, you did. You’d fallen down, exhausted. We thought you were sleeping. Then you stood up, quite awake. You said… you said some terrible things, Tyler. It appears that you have a split personality. There are times when you are not yourself, it’s like there is someone else in there. Someone far more sinister and dangerous.”

“Bullshit! You’re setting me up! Trying to use me as a scapegoat! You’re taking an easy way out! Using my weakness against me!” I roared back at him, my anger reaching out.

“It’s true, Tyler. I’m sorry.” The lead investigator said. “If you come with us we’ll show you the video. We’ll have to keep you in ‘cuffs though. You got rough with us earlier.”

I couldn’t believe what they were saying. My own colleagues, my friends had turned against me, and at a time I needed them most. They couldn’t possibly have a video that shows this “split personality” nonsense. I called their bluff.

They led me out of the cell, back to the room we’d initially spoken in that afternoon. They set the video up, and started it.

The date indicated that it was shot about two weeks ago. It seemed the camera-man was hiding behind a doorway, filming into the lounge. In it, I recognised two of the murder victims and myself. We were sitting on chairs talking, although I looked about ready to drop off to sleep.

It was apparent the other two were making jokes about me falling asleep with company. Not long after, I was lying on the couch, asleep. I heard Evan’s voice from behind the camera telling the other two to get ready.

They visibly tensed up, obviously preparing for something. Could it be true, what the chief had said? I don’t even remember being at Evan’s place when he had friends over. But wasn’t that the flash of memory I’d had earlier? So could it be possible that another “personality” had been there in my stead?

I had lost focus on the TV, but when I heard shouting and crashing, I was brought out of my thoughts.

There I was. Very awake. Very angry. I was attacking both of the victims, screaming profanities and death threats. The camera suddenly fell, and landed on its side, as I saw Evan entering the fray. It took all three of them to hold me down.

Then I just stopped moving. I just stopped shouting. They backed away from me, and it became clear that I was asleep again. There was nothing to indicate that I’d behave like I did.

They stopped the video. I felt the blood drain from my face, my head swimming.

“I- I didn’t- that wasn’t me! I don’t even remember being there!” I exclaimed.


“We think it was your other personality, but it was you. There was undeniable evidence found at Evan Poole’s house. It links you directly to his murder, and indirectly to the others.”

I sat there, numb with shock. It was me. They had proof. I was the killer I’d been chasing. It was me all along. That’s why I couldn’t find myself; I knew how I’d investigate. I knew the tricks.

The video just proved it. The other me was volatile, dangerous. It was me. I did it.
My legs moved as I was led away, but I barely registered it. All I could think was that I had murdered my own best friend in cold blood. Me. Myself.

I was locked back into my cell. The chief said something, but he may as well have said nothing, for all I heard.

I was a murderer. A monster. I suddenly had the vivid memory of the first murder scene cross my conscience. I felt disgusted, sickened; I lost whatever food I’d had, spraying it all over the floor.
I couldn’t believe that I had committed such an atrocity. All I could think about was what the victims looked like. What I had done to them. I could feel the bile rising in my throat again, just at the thought of it.

Again, I was violently sick. This time I made it to the toilet.

I stood up on my shaky legs, trying to wash my hands in the basin. As I washed my face, I caught my reflection in the mirror. It made me ill to think my victims had seen me in their last moments, as they had. I quickly looked away.

I felt an irresistible urge to look back. Who I saw wasn’t me, but someone far more deadly and vicious. Someone who had killed others, apparently just because they had discovered him.

He was smirking at me, reveling in the power he had over me. I could do nothing. He’d done the deed, and there was nothing I could do stop him in future. Because of him, the cell was my future.

Evan’s laughing face drifted across my memories, eternally happy.