Seeing a dead body was something that you could never quite get over.
Sure, you only had to trip to come across them in Raye's line of work, but there was always something there that nobody could ever place. It wasn't grief, Vallace was sure that she was long beyond that. There was no room for grief in being a detective. But there was a sadness, one that followed you like a stench. And if Raye's relationships were of any indication, others could smell it on you. It clung to you, other people's misery, and it warded off everyone who wasn't directly involved in making it. Nobody wanted a flatmate who woke with screams at night or one that covered the walls with hopeless conspiracies. Nobody wanted a friend who canceled plans to study cases, nobody wanted a girlfriend who left at four am to interrogate a murderer. Not to mention that it put their lives on the line. If Raye was too good at getting shot at, why not use a hostage, one that Raye just couldn't bear to see die? That was a good tactic, and it was exactly the reason why Raye almost refused to let Joanes into her apartment.
Upon seeing the green head of hair stick out her hand to her, Raye just about slammed the door in her face. It had been a month since their incident, and detective Vallace wasn't too keen on keeping any reminders around. But those cursed southern manners of her allowed Joanes to enter, and in the meantime put her hands to work on some tea. There were obvious niceties to produce, such as a "How are you?" or maybe a "How have you been?" (Which our detective of course knew, were very different questions to ask) but the girl seemed uninterested in any kind of small talk. She set her tea down on the coffee table and looked Raye directly in the eyes.
"Mira Vadej was murdered, and I need help proving it."
Vallace pulled away from her mug, although it was more of a grimace than any kind of shock.
"Okay cool, yeah, uh, what's your name again?"
Joanes sighed. She'd been asked this by the detective before, and had given multiple answers, ranging from "T. Joanes" to "Fuck off".
"My name is T. Joanes. And I don't think that you trust me."
"That'd be easier if you'd give me something other than an initial. Do you know how hard it is to look up someone with the last name Joanes?"
"If you're so interested in me you could just give me a number you know."
The chuckle in her voice made it clear that she was joking, but there was still something.... sharp behind the way that she said it. This was someone who did not like being known, and Raye desperately needed to know more. But they could go on like this forever, and it'd only end with T. leaving, so Raye decided to back down.
"Why do you think that it was a murder?"
"We both saw it. There was a light. And a wind that practically tore the forest down. Could a sixteen-year-old do that? Could a person, even? And what about the howling?"
Raye swallowed, the hot tea stinging her throat. She'd tried to forget about the noises from that night, unsuccessfully. Slowly, she pieced this information together.
"There was a car right behind Mira, the headlights could have been the light that we saw. Winds in Minnesota can be strong. We probably just heard it going through the trees."
Joanes carefully looked at Raye, as if she were studying her. Damn those fucking eyes of hers. She looked disappointed as she leaned back against her spot on the couch.
"That's bullshit and you know it, detective."
"I never told you I was a detective."
T. snorted. "It was a bit obvious."
Seeing the confusion on Raye's face, Joanes sighed dramatically, as if she was bothered by having to explain it. She clearly loved this.
"Your coat."
"What?"
"Nobody wears a shitty trenchcoat like that for their health. You were clearly committing to an aesthetic. Or you could have been a flasher. But judging by how you liked to arm yourself you weren't just happy to see me. It was a little bit stereotypical, but I could tell by your face as well. You don't sleep, and you have way too many scars for an office job. Your nails are cut short and your hands are calloused, you obviously work quite a bit with your hands. You like to be quiet, and you don't give others much information about yourself. You prefer to listen, observe. You ran after me, even though you were clearly terrified. Oh, don't give me that look, of course you were. That takes bravery."
It seemed that she was done with her explanation. Had she really gotten all of that from a few interactions?
"Impressive."
T. shrugged "Not really. You aren't the only one to observe people." There was just a hint of a proud smile on her face, where the corners of her lips tugged upwards for a millisecond before she suppressed it. It was kind of cute.
Raye felt like throwing up.
T. coughed and stood up. "I'll be going then. You'll need time to consider."
"I've made up my mind."
T. turned, the look of disappointment clear on her face. Raye didn't like how that expression made her feel guilty.
She sighed. "Alright. I won't talk to you again then."
That phrasing was intentional. Joanes knew exactly what she was doing.
Fuck.
"No! I mean, that's not- Look. Here."
Raye extended her business card to T., who examined its contents for a moment before looking up at her. She was smirking. Raye took a moment to compose herself before speaking as professionally as possible.
"I want real evidence Joanes. I'll work with you for a few weeks. We can arrange a time to meet over the phone."
That smirk grew into a smile, a real one that made Raye feel a bit nauseous. Before she knew it, Joanes was walking towards her apartment door, card in hand. She turned briefly before exiting, looking Raye up and down wordlessly. She smiled again, showing off her sharp white teeth.
"I look forward to it, detective."
Then the door clicked shut, leaving Raye alone. Helplessly, she smiled to herself.
She did too.
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