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azombiewritesTitle: A Murder Hunt
- Sequel to ‘A Murder Mystery’
Rating: PG Bad Language
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven
Category: Four Corners Detectives AU
Main Characters: Ezra and JD
Disclaimers: The guys are owned by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, and The Mirisch Corp.
Notes: The April 2005 Challenge (the Mystery Challenge) - offered by Jesfrealo. Write a story where a mystery plays a key role in the story. Have one or any combination of the guys be the detective(s). It can be funny or serious and in any open universe. Extra points if you make an unusual pair of the guys work together to figure out the mystery (so not Chris and Vin or Buck and JD...). Have fun!!
Summary: Detectives Standish and Dunne hunt for a killer
Spoilers: None
Author's note: A BIG thank you and a bear hug to the person who nominated this story for a 2008 & 2009 MoM award!
Warning: Josiah Sanchez is the bad guy in this story!
Part Seven
His father was going to kill him. He was sure of it. Jeremy Stone – a fifty-three-year-old retired accountant with a balding cranium and a stomach the size of a woman who was eight-months pregnant – had only bought the Camry a week ago, as an early retirement present for himself and now the car was gone. Stolen by an un-named maniac who had tried to kill his one and only child.
His father had allowed him to borrow the car on the condition that he returned it with a full tank of gas and a clean unblemished exterior. It wasn’t going to happen. Yeah, his father was definitely going to kill him; yell at him until his son’s eardrums burst and his brain exploded.
Drawing his knees closer to his chest, Stone wrapped his arms around his legs and let his head drop until his forehead rested on his knees. He struggled not to look but his gaze forced its way to his lap. As soon as his eyes found the large wet area that decorated his trousers, the smell of urine assaulted his sense of smell causing him to first gag and then spit.
Knowing that he had wet himself caused his eyes to fill with tears. His bladder had reacted badly when the manic had placed a gun against the back of his head and pulled the trigger. Realising the gun was empty, Stone had decided without hesitation, that he now believed in God and would spend the rest of his Sunday mornings – all twenty-three of them – in a church.
“You okay?”
Stone looked up at the man who had introduced himself earlier as Chris Larabee. “No.”
Larabee nodded in understanding and sat down on the gutter next to Stone. “You will be.”
Stone snorted through his nose then wiped the snot off his top lip with the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes drifted to the gun and badge attached to Larabee’s hip. The area on the back of his head, where the maniac’s gun had touched it, began to itch like a bitch on heat. He reached up and scratched the small round spot, stopping only when he could feel the dry skin of his scalp beginning to build up beneath his fingernails.
“You ever shoot someone with that gun?”
“Once . . . self-defense,” Larabee said, “It was him or me.”
“That simple huh?”
“No, Daniel, it’s never that simple. Taking another man’s life, something I hope I’ll never have to do again, was a life-changing act. One that’s going to stay with me for the rest of my life.”
“This was a life changing moment for me, I mean if that gun was loaded . . . I’m going to start going to church on Sundays, maybe even go later today. To thank God for letting me live. I mean there had to be a reason right, that the gun was empty, there was a reason for that, there had to be a reason for that. A reason only God knows about. Right?”
“You’re one of the lucky ones, Daniel,” Larabee told him. “He’s killed two people today, possibly three.”
“The guy he had with him?” Stone asked.
“Yeah, one of my Detectives, Ezra Standish. I’m hoping to find him before Sanchez . . .” Larabee shook his head to silence his words.
Sanchez . . . the maniac now had a name.
“It’s alright, you’re worried about him, I can tell.”
“Yeah, I am and he could be dead already and I . . . fuck!” Larabee wiped his face, forehead to chin, with the palm of his right hand. “Sorry.”
Stone looked down into his lap and wondered if Larabee could smell the piss. “I’ll go to church and pray for him. Ask God to let him live . . . like he let me live.” He looked back up at Larabee just in time to catch the emotion flicker across the man’s face. Wanting an explanation for what he saw, Stone asked, “You don’t think that will help?”
Larabee shook his head and said, “If it helps you, go ahead and pray.”
“But you don’t think it will help your friend.”
“I needed God to intervene for me once before and let’s just say that he . . .” Larabee snapped his mouth shut and looked at Stone. “Was there anything that Sanchez said that would help us find him?”
“I told Officer Tanner everything--”
“I know, but tell me again. Maybe there was something you missed.”
Stone frowned in concentration, his eyebrows drawing so close together it looked as though they were conjoined twins. Taking a deep breath to relax his mind and body, Stone went over the events of the last hour for a second time, repeating what he could remember and apologizing for what he couldn’t.
“When he . . . Sanchez told me to get out of the car I thought everything was going to be okay, that he was going to let me walk away, you know,” Stone’s bottom lip trembled. “And then he got out and put that gun to my head . . . I knew he was going to kill me. He pulled the trigger and I lost control, wet myself. I was so scared, Mr. Larabee. . . I’m surprised I didn’t shit myself as well.
“Then he got in the car and drove off . . . Hell, I was so relieved, I cried.” Stone snorted again; a habit the teenager found hard to break. “If my friends found out how I reacted, they’d call me a girl, a girly girl. I still can’t believe I actually pissed my pants.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“I bet it never happened to you.”
“It did . . . once.”
Stone blinked. “When?”
Larabee ignored the question. “He didn’t mention any names, places . . . anything like that?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
Stone felt the silent anger and fear that spread out from the man seated next to him. Larabee’s emotions stretched out toward him with chilled fingers, gripping his heart and squeezing it until he felt his own guilt replace it. Was Larabee blaming him because he couldn’t remember everything that happened?
“Not your fault, Daniel.” Larabee patted Stone’s knee.
Stone nodded, his eyes looking everywhere except at the man who sat beside him. His gaze found Officer Tanner, who was leaning against the bonnet of a patrol car. Stone wanted to smile at him but couldn’t gather the courage to do so; he knew he had disappointed Tanner earlier when he hadn’t been able to give the Officer the information he needed.
“Here . . .”
Stone looked at Larabee through a shimmering haze of fresh tears and realized the man was trying to give him something. It was a small business card.
“Name and number of someone you can talk to about what happened . . . just in case God is too busy to listen,” Larabee said.
After wiping his eyes with an already snot covered sleeve, Stone took the card from Larabee and held it with a trembling hand. “You think he can help?”
“Yeah, I do,” Larabee smiled at the teenager. “He was able to help me.”
Stone raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, “Some maniac shot you?”
“Not me.”
“Who then?”
“Give him a call as soon as you can. The quicker you talk to someone about it, the better.”
“You’re not going to tell me are you?” Stone saw the sadness that filled Larabee’s eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s not any of my business.”
“Call him.”
Stone nodded and said, “Thanks.”
“And, when you’re ready, you can call me and let me know how you’re doing . . . okay?”
“Sure.” The fact that this man seemed to care caused him to try to smile; he failed miserably. “Maybe you could take me out for a beer?”
Stone watched the smile creep onto the older man’s face and then break into a dozen pieces at the sound of Larabee’s cell phone. The tune was unrecognizable to Larabee but well known to Stone. For some reason, Buck Wilmington had taken it upon himself to change his friend’s ring tone to Justine Timberlake’s, ‘Sexy Back’.
“Sorry, Daniel, I have to take this, could be important.”
Stone couldn’t stop himself. He shook his head and snorted with laughter. It felt good to laugh.
Larabee frowned at the look Stone was giving him. He ignored it and answered his phone. “Hey Buck, how’s JD?”
Stone tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation, instead looking down at the card that was still in his hand, but it was hard not to listen when Larabee was still sitting next to him. He took comfort in the fact that Larabee hadn’t gotten up and walked away from him, leaving him in the gutter wearing a pair of piss stained pants and a tear-streaked face.
His father was going to kill him.
“Good, was he able to locate the GPS signal in Ezra’s cell phone?”
It was Stone’s turn to frown, his eyes then filling up with hope.
“That’s only a couple of blocks away,” Larabee said, “I’ll get Vin to go and get it then do a house to house. Someone might have seen something . . . yeah Buck, I know.”
Manners, taught to him by his mother, stopped Stone from interrupting the conversation. His mother would always tell him that it was rude to interrupt when his elders were talking, and then slap him hard against the back of the head to reinforce the rule – Mrs. Stone continued to do it, even to this day.
“We’ve still got some time . . . there’s a chance we’ll find him alive.”
Larabee rubbed his tired eyes with his free hand then glanced towards Stone.
“No . . . I don’t believe what Sanchez told me.” It took Larabee a few seconds to read the expression clearly written on Stone’s young features; it was one of hope. “Hold on a sec, Buck.” Larabee lowered the cell phone until it rested against his thigh. “Dan? Do you remember something?”
“Why don’t you trace my cell phone,” Stone’s smile revealed a pair of dimples that reminded Larabee of Ezra Standish. “It’s still in my dad’s car.”
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
Master Fan Fiction List
- Sequel to ‘A Murder Mystery’
Rating: PG Bad Language
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven
Category: Four Corners Detectives AU
Main Characters: Ezra and JD
Disclaimers: The guys are owned by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, and The Mirisch Corp.
Notes: The April 2005 Challenge (the Mystery Challenge) - offered by Jesfrealo. Write a story where a mystery plays a key role in the story. Have one or any combination of the guys be the detective(s). It can be funny or serious and in any open universe. Extra points if you make an unusual pair of the guys work together to figure out the mystery (so not Chris and Vin or Buck and JD...). Have fun!!
Summary: Detectives Standish and Dunne hunt for a killer
Spoilers: None
Author's note: A BIG thank you and a bear hug to the person who nominated this story for a 2008 & 2009 MoM award!
Warning: Josiah Sanchez is the bad guy in this story!
Part Seven
His father was going to kill him. He was sure of it. Jeremy Stone – a fifty-three-year-old retired accountant with a balding cranium and a stomach the size of a woman who was eight-months pregnant – had only bought the Camry a week ago, as an early retirement present for himself and now the car was gone. Stolen by an un-named maniac who had tried to kill his one and only child.
His father had allowed him to borrow the car on the condition that he returned it with a full tank of gas and a clean unblemished exterior. It wasn’t going to happen. Yeah, his father was definitely going to kill him; yell at him until his son’s eardrums burst and his brain exploded.
Drawing his knees closer to his chest, Stone wrapped his arms around his legs and let his head drop until his forehead rested on his knees. He struggled not to look but his gaze forced its way to his lap. As soon as his eyes found the large wet area that decorated his trousers, the smell of urine assaulted his sense of smell causing him to first gag and then spit.
Knowing that he had wet himself caused his eyes to fill with tears. His bladder had reacted badly when the manic had placed a gun against the back of his head and pulled the trigger. Realising the gun was empty, Stone had decided without hesitation, that he now believed in God and would spend the rest of his Sunday mornings – all twenty-three of them – in a church.
“You okay?”
Stone looked up at the man who had introduced himself earlier as Chris Larabee. “No.”
Larabee nodded in understanding and sat down on the gutter next to Stone. “You will be.”
Stone snorted through his nose then wiped the snot off his top lip with the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes drifted to the gun and badge attached to Larabee’s hip. The area on the back of his head, where the maniac’s gun had touched it, began to itch like a bitch on heat. He reached up and scratched the small round spot, stopping only when he could feel the dry skin of his scalp beginning to build up beneath his fingernails.
“You ever shoot someone with that gun?”
“Once . . . self-defense,” Larabee said, “It was him or me.”
“That simple huh?”
“No, Daniel, it’s never that simple. Taking another man’s life, something I hope I’ll never have to do again, was a life-changing act. One that’s going to stay with me for the rest of my life.”
“This was a life changing moment for me, I mean if that gun was loaded . . . I’m going to start going to church on Sundays, maybe even go later today. To thank God for letting me live. I mean there had to be a reason right, that the gun was empty, there was a reason for that, there had to be a reason for that. A reason only God knows about. Right?”
“You’re one of the lucky ones, Daniel,” Larabee told him. “He’s killed two people today, possibly three.”
“The guy he had with him?” Stone asked.
“Yeah, one of my Detectives, Ezra Standish. I’m hoping to find him before Sanchez . . .” Larabee shook his head to silence his words.
Sanchez . . . the maniac now had a name.
“It’s alright, you’re worried about him, I can tell.”
“Yeah, I am and he could be dead already and I . . . fuck!” Larabee wiped his face, forehead to chin, with the palm of his right hand. “Sorry.”
Stone looked down into his lap and wondered if Larabee could smell the piss. “I’ll go to church and pray for him. Ask God to let him live . . . like he let me live.” He looked back up at Larabee just in time to catch the emotion flicker across the man’s face. Wanting an explanation for what he saw, Stone asked, “You don’t think that will help?”
Larabee shook his head and said, “If it helps you, go ahead and pray.”
“But you don’t think it will help your friend.”
“I needed God to intervene for me once before and let’s just say that he . . .” Larabee snapped his mouth shut and looked at Stone. “Was there anything that Sanchez said that would help us find him?”
“I told Officer Tanner everything--”
“I know, but tell me again. Maybe there was something you missed.”
Stone frowned in concentration, his eyebrows drawing so close together it looked as though they were conjoined twins. Taking a deep breath to relax his mind and body, Stone went over the events of the last hour for a second time, repeating what he could remember and apologizing for what he couldn’t.
“When he . . . Sanchez told me to get out of the car I thought everything was going to be okay, that he was going to let me walk away, you know,” Stone’s bottom lip trembled. “And then he got out and put that gun to my head . . . I knew he was going to kill me. He pulled the trigger and I lost control, wet myself. I was so scared, Mr. Larabee. . . I’m surprised I didn’t shit myself as well.
“Then he got in the car and drove off . . . Hell, I was so relieved, I cried.” Stone snorted again; a habit the teenager found hard to break. “If my friends found out how I reacted, they’d call me a girl, a girly girl. I still can’t believe I actually pissed my pants.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“I bet it never happened to you.”
“It did . . . once.”
Stone blinked. “When?”
Larabee ignored the question. “He didn’t mention any names, places . . . anything like that?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
Stone felt the silent anger and fear that spread out from the man seated next to him. Larabee’s emotions stretched out toward him with chilled fingers, gripping his heart and squeezing it until he felt his own guilt replace it. Was Larabee blaming him because he couldn’t remember everything that happened?
“Not your fault, Daniel.” Larabee patted Stone’s knee.
Stone nodded, his eyes looking everywhere except at the man who sat beside him. His gaze found Officer Tanner, who was leaning against the bonnet of a patrol car. Stone wanted to smile at him but couldn’t gather the courage to do so; he knew he had disappointed Tanner earlier when he hadn’t been able to give the Officer the information he needed.
“Here . . .”
Stone looked at Larabee through a shimmering haze of fresh tears and realized the man was trying to give him something. It was a small business card.
“Name and number of someone you can talk to about what happened . . . just in case God is too busy to listen,” Larabee said.
After wiping his eyes with an already snot covered sleeve, Stone took the card from Larabee and held it with a trembling hand. “You think he can help?”
“Yeah, I do,” Larabee smiled at the teenager. “He was able to help me.”
Stone raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, “Some maniac shot you?”
“Not me.”
“Who then?”
“Give him a call as soon as you can. The quicker you talk to someone about it, the better.”
“You’re not going to tell me are you?” Stone saw the sadness that filled Larabee’s eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s not any of my business.”
“Call him.”
Stone nodded and said, “Thanks.”
“And, when you’re ready, you can call me and let me know how you’re doing . . . okay?”
“Sure.” The fact that this man seemed to care caused him to try to smile; he failed miserably. “Maybe you could take me out for a beer?”
Stone watched the smile creep onto the older man’s face and then break into a dozen pieces at the sound of Larabee’s cell phone. The tune was unrecognizable to Larabee but well known to Stone. For some reason, Buck Wilmington had taken it upon himself to change his friend’s ring tone to Justine Timberlake’s, ‘Sexy Back’.
“Sorry, Daniel, I have to take this, could be important.”
Stone couldn’t stop himself. He shook his head and snorted with laughter. It felt good to laugh.
Larabee frowned at the look Stone was giving him. He ignored it and answered his phone. “Hey Buck, how’s JD?”
Stone tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation, instead looking down at the card that was still in his hand, but it was hard not to listen when Larabee was still sitting next to him. He took comfort in the fact that Larabee hadn’t gotten up and walked away from him, leaving him in the gutter wearing a pair of piss stained pants and a tear-streaked face.
His father was going to kill him.
“Good, was he able to locate the GPS signal in Ezra’s cell phone?”
It was Stone’s turn to frown, his eyes then filling up with hope.
“That’s only a couple of blocks away,” Larabee said, “I’ll get Vin to go and get it then do a house to house. Someone might have seen something . . . yeah Buck, I know.”
Manners, taught to him by his mother, stopped Stone from interrupting the conversation. His mother would always tell him that it was rude to interrupt when his elders were talking, and then slap him hard against the back of the head to reinforce the rule – Mrs. Stone continued to do it, even to this day.
“We’ve still got some time . . . there’s a chance we’ll find him alive.”
Larabee rubbed his tired eyes with his free hand then glanced towards Stone.
“No . . . I don’t believe what Sanchez told me.” It took Larabee a few seconds to read the expression clearly written on Stone’s young features; it was one of hope. “Hold on a sec, Buck.” Larabee lowered the cell phone until it rested against his thigh. “Dan? Do you remember something?”
“Why don’t you trace my cell phone,” Stone’s smile revealed a pair of dimples that reminded Larabee of Ezra Standish. “It’s still in my dad’s car.”
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
Master Fan Fiction List