Chapter 70: The Rain Keeps Falling
Theodore remained perfectly composed.
He understood that his original body had indeed encountered Jack before, but Jack chose not to reveal this connection. He didn't even mention Washington, D.C. or their previous acquaintance.
Whatever Jack's private thoughts might be, his stated purpose for inviting them was straightforward: he wanted them to appear on stage during tomorrow's campaign speech.
What he needed were the celebrated twin detectives, Theodore and Bernie, not the rebellious eldest nephew of the Hoover family.
Jack's campaign team had done their homework thoroughly; they'd researched both Theodore and Bernie extensively.
He began with lavish praise, appealing to their professional pride by calling them brilliant detectives who solved cases with remarkable speed and efficiency.
The flattery fell flat. Theodore remained coolly observant, simply studying Jack's face, while Bernie actually appeared to be pouting with displeasure.
After several minutes of pleasant conversation, Jack extended his invitation, only to be politely but firmly rejected.
Jack attempted multiple persuasive approaches without making any progress, finally conceding defeat. After some obligatory pleasantries, he escorted them out.
The following day, in addition to Lyon, his party's campaign partner, who had risen from Texas politics, Jack selected Councillor Santos as his local endorsement.
The third campaign speech proved an unprecedented triumph.
While hard-line conservatives might not personally embrace Jack, they wholeheartedly supported Santos and his reputation.
After the speech, Jack invited Santos to his hotel suite, where they remained in deep discussion until darkness fell. Only repeated urgings from Jack's younger brother finally convinced them to end their conversation reluctantly.
This extended meeting disrupted their original schedule, forcing the campaign to depart overnight for their next destination.
...
September weather in Texas proved nearly unbearable.
Theodore and Jack, both Washington D.C. natives, understood this misery intimately.
By afternoon, Felton's temperature had already climbed past 95°F, creating sticky, oppressive humidity that made everyone long to submerge themselves in cool water indefinitely.
After official work hours, not a single member of the Homicide Team had departed the West District Branch's main office.
The detectives sprawled across their desks, positioning themselves strategically before electric fans that provided minimal relief from the suffocating heat.
They planned to remain until the temperature dropped to tolerable levels.
Someone initiated a discussion about recent weather forecasts. Radio and television meteorologists had been predicting rain for the past two days, cautioning citizens to prepare for severe weather. Yet despite daily formations of ominous dark clouds, precipitation stubbornly refused to materialise.
Just as they were debating the reliability of weather predictions, a low rumble of thunder suddenly echoed from outside.
Before anyone could fully process this development, rain began falling in torrential sheets with a deafening patter.
The police station immediately descended into controlled chaos as everyone rushed toward the exits simultaneously.
Felton rarely experienced summer or autumn rainfall, but when precipitation did arrive, it came as violent downpours, biblical deluges that transformed the landscape within minutes.
Anyone who didn't reach home immediately might find themselves stranded for hours.
Theodore joined the exodus, but after reaching his patrol car, he discovered departure was impossible.
Sitting behind the wheel and peering through the windshield, he faced a wall of white water. The road had vanished entirely beneath the deluge.
The heavy rain fell as though the sky itself had been punctured and was haemorrhaging.
A group of officers who had lingered too long found themselves thoroughly soaked and retreated to the station house.
Theodore counted heads, including the on-duty personnel; more than thirty people were now stranded for the entire night. Fortunately, they were accustomed to working overtime, and the station provided adequate sleeping facilities, unlike the East District, where even two people struggled to find proper rest.
Following the deluge, the entire West District resembled a vast lake system. Sewage flowed everywhere through the streets, leaving nowhere safe to step. Many low-lying apartments found their ground floors completely submerged.
The West District Branch's emergency phone rang incessantly.
Last night's torrential rain had prevented patrol officers from conducting their regular duties, but it hadn't deterred criminal activity.
Shop theft cases dominated the reports; opportunistic criminals had taken advantage of the chaos to loot abandoned storefronts.
The entire station operated at maximum capacity, with even the Homicide Team temporarily reassigned to handle theft investigations.
Theodore genuinely despised rain, hefty downpours.
Rainwater rendered eyewitness testimony unreliable and washed away crucial physical evidence. Cases that should be straightforward became unnecessarily complicated.
Of course, rainwater wasn't entirely problematic.
That afternoon, Theodore and his colleagues were summoned back to the branch. Wenner clutched a manila folder and gathered everyone for an urgent briefing.
At two o'clock that afternoon, they'd received a report that human remains had been washed downstream and were floating in the same river where Billy had been discovered during case 600610 (the oil field investigation).
After Wenner provided a brief case summary, he didn't immediately authorise formal case establishment or task force formation. Instead, he ordered everyone to remain on standby.
He scanned the assembled detectives and selected Theodore and Bernie, directing them to lead a preliminary investigation team to the scene.
He instructed the pair to provide initial conclusions as quickly as possible after examining the site.
Theodore and Bernie moved toward the exit without delay, but Wenner called them back.
He pointed toward the forensic laboratory, explaining they should wait and depart with the scientific team.
The partners waited in their vehicle for more than ten minutes before several young forensic scientists rushed out frantically, loading equipment boxes while offering repeated apologies for the delay.
After departing, Bernie brought up Little Sullivan's recent progress.
Despite initial scepticism about Theodore's recommendations, Bernie had followed them religiously. The results were undeniably positive.
He couldn't articulate the psychological specifics, lacking expertise in that field, but he could sense that his old Little Sullivan was finally returning.
Bernie mentioned plans to take Little Sullivan mountain hunting that weekend and extended an invitation for Theodore to join them.
They then discussed the current situation.
It couldn't properly be called a case yet; the floating remains might have been washed from some forgotten grave or burial site.
Bernie had been reading the Star News with excessive enthusiasm lately, developing elaborate theories that made Theodore suspect they were living in entirely different realities.
Upon reaching the scene, Bernie's animated conversation came to an abrupt halt.
What confronted them was a surging, turbulent river transformed beyond recognition.
The water churned violently, exceptionally muddy and debris-laden.
Yesterday's torrential rainfall had sent mud and runoff cascading from the mountains, merging with the existing sewage waterway.
The shallow area where Billy had been discovered was now completely submerged. The river ran at least three feet deep, with some sections overflowing onto adjacent roadways.
This made any discussion of scene preservation or detailed examination purely academic.
They were already demonstrating exceptional dedication by responding to the call under these conditions.
The remains had been discovered by two students playing in roadside floodwater. When one boy was playfully pushed into the river by his companion, he surfaced clutching a human skull.
Both youngsters had screamed in terror before being transported back to town by a passing motorist to report their discovery.
Patrol officers had been maintaining the scene since arrival, awaiting the detectives' assessment.
Scene preservation was impossible and unnecessary.
The river flowed with tremendous force, carrying unknown quantities of skeletal remains downstream.
Bernie approached the patrol officers, and one of them handed over a paper bag containing the discovered skull.
Theodore examined it briefly, confirmed that his limited forensic knowledge was insufficient for proper analysis, and passed it to the bewildered young forensic scientist beside him.
The scientific team had remained motionless on the riverbank since exiting their vehicle, appearing completely confused about their next steps and responsibilities.
After receiving the skull, they treated it like a precious artifact, with all five scientists gathering around, chattering and conducting animated examination.
Several minutes later, predictably, they reached no conclusions.
The forensic scientist whom Samuel had previously reprimanded was nominated as spokesman and stammered his report to Theodore. They needed to transport the remains back to the laboratory for comprehensive analysis.
Theodore expressed puzzlement, questioning whether laboratory examination would yield meaningful results.
The young scientist explained that they had a new forensic laboratory supervisor, a professor from Felton University with impressive credentials, who headquarters had specially recruited.
Theodore surveyed the scene once more, concluded there was genuinely nothing more to accomplish, and decided to return with the scientific team.
"Wait."
Bernie called out, quickly wading into the turbulent river. He retrieved a smaller skull from the muddy water and placed it on the bank.
Taking a deep breath, he dove completely underwater, surfacing moments later with several bones entangled in rope.
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