Elliot's throat was on fire.
He had been drawn here by the scent of dried blood. The instincts of a hunter took control over his rational mind at that moment. A crowd had gathered around a house with a shattered window. In the darkness, Elliot could see through the window from the distance he kept. The blood spatter was inconsistent, as if it had been painted there. But his burning throat told him it was blood nonetheless.
Elliot kept his distance as the police worked the scene. Forensic scientists were continually going in and out of the house. There was no way he would get in until they were finished processing. He watched for a long time until finally, it appeared as if the last of the scientists left and gathered around a van. The uniformed officers were busily questioning the crowd.
Finally, a new-looking sedan pulled up to the scene, as close as he would dare with the crowd. A tall man with sandy blonde hair and a clean-shaven squared jaw stepped out. He looked as if he had dressed in a hurry. His button-down shirt was wrinkled, his tie was crooked, and one of his shined shoes was untied. A sports-coat was left behind in the car.
Finally, the detective had arrived.
He didn't have much time; Elliot knew as he approached the house. He took one last look around before entering the house, fast enough the human eye wouldn't have seen him but careful enough not to make a noise. He found himself in the living room of the house, where he had seen the blood spatter, now he had a chance to see the room up close, but most of the evidence had been taken. A blood-stained couch and loveseat sat in the room, but an indent on the floor showed that the couch had been moved to its currently crooked position. The loveseat had two long gashes through one of the cushions. Elliot took a moment to examine them, then a large patch of dried blood on the floor.
It was then that he was nearly immobilized by thirst. It was as if he had swallowed a match that had caught in the upper part of his throat. His mouth was ashen, longing for moisture. Particularly what was currently running through the jugular vein of the detective standing directly behind him.
"Salem PD, put your hands where I can see them!" The Detective called out, calm and confident. Elliot heard the bullet enter the chamber of the gun pointed at him. Elliot closed his eyes, willing himself not to attack the human who had so foolishly entered the room. He slowly raised his hands to shoulder height, keeping his eyes closed.
"Stand up!" The Detective commanded, and Elliot obeyed.
"There seems to have been a misunderstanding, officer," Elliot said. "I am on your side."
"Put your hands behind your back," The detective said.
Elliot obeyed again, lowering his hands. "If you will give me a moment to explain, I believe we can clear this up."
"Oh, this should be good." The Detective said as he pulled handcuffs from a pocket.
"My name is Elliot Carson, a licensed Private Detective in the state of Massachusetts. My identification is in my jacket." Elliot explained calmly, expending most of his energy on not attacking the vulnerable prey behind him and not accidentally breaking the handcuffs as he had done many times in the past.
"Well, Mister Carson, we will verify this down at the station." The Detective said. "As of right now, you have the right to remain silent..."
The Detective continued to list Elliot's Miranda Rights (which Elliot had memorized as well) and led him out of the house. Elliot watched as the officers turned to gape at Elliot. Most of them had a confused look on their faces as if trying to figure out where they had missed the man being led out. Elliot of slightly amused by their dumbfounded expressions as he allowed himself to be led to a squad car.
Out of the corner of his eye, Elliot spied a small white light floating by a nearby chimney. He winked in its direction and the light fluttered out of sight again. He was pushed into the back of the squad car and he found himself surprised by the amount of legroom he had. He drew in a long breath as he was left alone in the car.
It was going to be a long time before he could have a drink.