Eyes welled with tears, reflecting the terror and desperation of a woman who had survived the animal attack.
"All through the night." she sniffled, her voice quivering amidst her tears.
Detective Mjölby pondered another inconsistency in her account, asking, "How did you realize it had departed if you never actually saw it?" Her story remained enigmatic, a puzzle with missing pieces.
She simply sobbed, unable to provide any further insight. Detective Mjölby left Mrs. Pearson alone at his desk, stepping outside for a breath of air.
The evening settled into tranquil quietness, with the sun's warm embrace as it dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows. Stagnant air mingled with lingering morning mist, still lingering in swampy pockets. Frogs serenaded the scene, their chirps punctuating the calm.
Upon his return to the lab, Detective Mjölby listened to Mark and Earl. They exchanged words, their similar voices alternating between the roles of the smartass and the dumbass. As they chatted about the chilling topic while munching on sandwiches, Mark paused to light a cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the detective's presence.
Clearing his throat, Detective Mjölby made his presence known, the act marked by his characteristic toothpick. More chewing, more face-touching followed, the detective bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of information—pertinent or not.
"Well if they do have a lab with Ebola, somebody somewhere is eventually living next door to it, relatively speaking, of course," Mark interjected, referencing an earlier part of their conversation.
"For nerdom." Detective Mjölby mused, raising a shot he had poured from Mark's desk and downing it before resuming his role as an active listener.
"My notes?" Mark inquired from beneath his bottle, his attention shifting to Detective Mjölby's unspoken thoughts.
"Man's best friend." Earl offered, prompting an image of a dog. "The hair of the dog that bit you?"
"It is a dog. That much is clear. What else?" Detective Mjölby sighed, feeling the frustration in his voice.
"This is the authentic account of the invisible dog's actual events in 2018. Everything in this story is real—people, places, all of it. Invisible dogs are real." Mark explained, displaying images ranging from flowers and insects to strands of DNA. Detective Mjölby smirked at the man's flair for the dramatic with his PowerPoint presentations.
"The," Earl interjected, frowning as he pointed at the screen, then he elaborated, "Daphavirus." He proceeded to shed light on the South American virus, once exclusive to a specific firefly species, now genetically altered to affect reptiles, including a chameleon rendered invisible.
"Who did this?" Detective Mjölby questioned, his stance firm.
"Who do you think?" Mark retorted, a touch of exasperation in his voice.
"The military-industrial complex—behind this creation, this monstrosity. It's a conspiracy." Earl chimed in, embracing the theme of intrigue.
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"I've got real detective work to do here. People are dying, and patterns are emerging. There's motive, a human motive. How can I ignore a pattern? I need to follow it, predict and put an end to this." Detective Mjölby informed his slightly eccentric lab cohorts.
"Sorry, boss. What do you want us to tell you then?" Mark spoke, a mouthful of food muffling his words.
"If all these victims' lives intersect at some point, where is the convergence? What's the connection?" Detective Mjölby inquired, gesturing to the place where the victims' remains were kept.
Back at Mrs. Pearson's residence, she cradled her cat, Lucy Fur, who had spent the night in a tree. With dawn's arrival, the coast was finally clear, prompting Lucy Fur's descent from her arboreal perch. Retrieving her cat from the lawn, Mrs. Pearson picked up her phone from where is had lain in the grass and then went indoors, dialing the police and then her husband who was in Las Vegas. She attempted to recount her ordeal to him.
The police had more questions than Mr. Pearson did.
Returning home, after the police detective had left her sitting at his desk, Mrs. Pearson resolved to add 'have an affair' to her bucket list, preferably with a young divorced cop, igniting a spark in his world until his strength waned. Her life had been one of impeccable virtue, but now, driven by newfound resolve, she intended to venture into the unknown. It served as a distraction from the haunting memory of her recent ordeal, as she sat alone, apprehensive of the world outside.
"Freaking monsters are real," she swore, the word 'freaking' not fully masking her frustration. Her husband's laughter still echoed over the phone, his tone light as he enjoyed his Vegas business trip.
In contrast: the police took her seriously. One officer had even offered a comforting embrace as she wept.
Then, she heard her cat outside, but this time, it wasn't a tree that offered refuge—it was a dog. A substantial dog at that. She dialed the number on the homicide detective's card.
"How did she end up out there again? Darn pussycat," Mrs. Pearson muttered, her accent adding a touch of uniqueness to her words. As she dialed, she said, "I might just let the dog have my darn pussy this time."
"Brightside Police Department, Officer Kelly speaking. How can I assist you?" the young police officer inquired promptly.
"I'm trying to reach Detective Mjölby, but the extension kept ringing," Mrs. Pearson explained.
"Uh, Mrs. Pearson?" Officer Kelly guessed.
"Yes, that's right." she confirmed. Mrs. Pearson thought to herself about how Officer Kelly was about to get an unexpected opportunity. Watching Lucy Fur in the tree and twisting off her wedding ring, she made a decision.
"He's currently unavailable." Officer Kelly replied.
"Could you come over, right now? It's an emergency. I need someone familiar with my case urgently. I'm sure Detective Mjölby would authorize you." she insisted, her tone wavering on the edge of desperation.
"Let me call him first." Officer Kelly offered, dialing Detective Mjölby's number. After a brief conversation, he received authorization to assist Mrs. Pearson.
When he arrived, Officer Kelly remained in his car, opting to call a dogcatcher instead. However, the dogcatcher took longer than expected to arrive. Eventually, the dogcatcher appeared on the scene.
During this time, Mrs. Pearson's gaze shifted to a television repair van, complete with antennas, that seemed to be keeping an eye on her home. Initially focused on Officer Kelly, she noticed the van's unrelenting presence.
With her cat finally out of the tree and the dogcatcher dealing with the collie, Officer Kelly prepared to leave, not even stepping out of his car. At that moment, Mrs. Pearson turned her attention to her bucket list on the fridge, adding the letter 'A' in red marker—an addition for another time.
She noticed the van being replaced by another one with the label 'PC repair' sporting a similar appearance. A growing sense of unease enveloped her.
Amidst the turmoil, it felt as if shadowy figures akin to men in black were surveilling her home—nothing overt, just a subtle watchfulness. Mrs. Pearson unleashed her frustrations. sleep deprivation and the anger she felt - converted from her fears and a feeling of helplessness.
"There's nothing to see! You can't see it!" she yelled, chasing after them, hurling a rock that shattered a taillight.
Abruptly, the van started and drove away.