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“She had a stalker, you know. He assaulted her before.”

Detective Anderson raised an eyebrow and made a note. “Really? There’s no record of it on our database.”

The victim’s sister laughed, a harsh sound with no joy. “No, there wouldn’t be,” she said. “Your lot wouldn’t put it down. They said it was nothing but a misunderstood harmless grope in a nightclub. Practically made out she was asking for it just ’cause she wore a miniskirt. We tried to tell him, this creep had been following her around for weeks, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, leaning forward with an empathetic expression, “I’m listening now. Please, tell me everything you know about this man.”

He let the sister talk and made notes, gently prompting her for details. When she finished, he excused himself and left the room.

“Jones,” he called, “Have Forensics got back to us?”

His colleague nodded and came over with a manila folder.

“Yeah,” he said. “Looks like we got lucky. They found hair, skin and fibre transfer, so if we can find the right guy to compare it to we’ll have a triple whammy to nail him with.”

Anderson frowned. “Not sure ‘lucky’ is the right word to use in conjunction with an assault this brutal, Jonesy. Any word from the hospital?”

Jones looked suitably abashed. “Sorry sir. No word yet, last we heard all they’d say was that she’s critical. I think… I don’t think they’re holding out much hope, sir.”

Anderson sighed and handed Jones his notebook. “The vic’s sister said she had a stalker. That’s everything she knows about him. Run it, and find an address. We have a house call to make.”

Jones nodded and returned to his computer, and Detective Anderson went to fetch a cup of coffee for the victim’s sister. She was going to need it.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: The Three Word Wednesday prompt this week was Brutal, Grope and Transfer, so I went a little bit CSI.)

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