She giggled and pushed forward. His hands struck out and grasped her arm with negligible force.
He edged toward the crusty bread that locks lettuce and his favorite ham cheese. "Are you going to finish that?"
"Are you constantly thinking of food?" Her palms crossed her breast in a stable tuck.
"You bought it. Might as well eat it."
In a split second, her body lifted from the gravel and launched herself with a gasp. His caress ignited her body with a pleasurable burn. Although, it's not the hands of a man. His hands worked wonders on her body that had her screaming. Aching for his brush and they wake the dorm to a growl. Her eyes locked to his and pulled out the smudged sandwich from her bag. At first glance, the remains were still and more than chilled. She settled between his legs and the sandwich fell from her hands, followed by screeching as she shook.
The boy spun around on the edge and had his views falling out at the sight. Her eyes are closed, her flesh of an arctic body and hair floating on the surface. His gut lurched, and a churning mixture of digestive fluids filled his mouth. His cry pierced her ears with a swing of his arm and tumbled into the fountain, inviting her for a morning swim.
Later that morning, the square grounds were full. Yellow tape. Police tape. Surrounding the patio as students and news reporters swallowed the scene of a bolt from the blue. Blackhawk stayed with his 5-buttoned cardigan, black shirt and faded blue denim. His hands found his pockets and hooked four fingers deep as his thumb caresses the material.
He closed the notepad and handed over to Kate. "Jack the jock's shaken up and Ms Sunshine Elle can't stop drawing at her brow wigs."
She sighed. "So otherwise worthless. What about the fountain maintenance?"
"Seth Miller, project manager, claims it takes about one week to drain the pond which holds one million gallons of water."
"And not once have they seen a dead body floating around?"
"They found a mattress once. I'm sure remains aren't as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party.” His eyes roamed the place.
Everyone's eyes set to the body packed in black and men in white overalls rooting about for sinking evidence. Blackhawk observed the crowd until he was sure they were minors. They were very skinny. Everything turned out to be typical. If not comfortable. He looked high and low for out of the ordinary. The girl standing between the two boys was slim. Her blue eyes well up and tears streak down her face, her lips trembling until she bites them. The scene sought to strike her in ways that hadn't moved the others.
"Petite and wet at 6 o'clock.” He stared ahead and his head dipped to her shield of blonde.
Kate turned and quests her eyes around the crowd. Upon landing her eyes on a woman no less than an undergraduate, she darted across the yellow tape.
• • •
"Milly Powell. What's your relationship with Michaela Jones?"
She inhaled a gust of wind and shook with release. From her mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of Kate were suddenly wet with tears. Blackhawk's eyes danced facetiously. Her mouth gulped with words unsounded and her pale skin burned and blue eyes leaked her cheeks. Her chin trembled and breathing heavily. It's almost too painful for him to watch and get her to form words. He's losing his mind... again. His hand found its way into his pocket and whipped out a handkerchief.
"Thank you." She trembled as she blew. "We were friends."
Her hand raised toward him.
Blackhawk shook his head and held out a hand in questioning. "Were?" He watched her pass it on to Kate–instantly declines it.
"We haven't spoken in days. If not months."
"She got a never-ending quickie?" he asked.
She laughed. At first it was soft but turned into a blare. "She would show up for class and disappear the next."
"Typical Uni behavior."
Milly bit her lip and rolled. "She worked a lot. Hung out with the sketchy kids. Drank. Did pot."
"They're stocking that in the pond, too?" He turned his neck and settled his gaze in the direction of the water basin.
"When was the last time you saw her?" Kate asked.
"A month ago at the Brain Disorders lecture."
"You haven't thought to report it?"
"Like I'd said, she's never around." Milly stuck the handkerchief in her bag and dashed off into the crowd.
"Our victim took a direct blow to the head resulting in blunt force head trauma to the occipital bone. She must've drowned unconscious," Liz, the coroner said.
"Any signs of a struggle?"
"We'll be able to determine the additional injuries, T.O.D and collect evidence back at the lab," Liz nodded and joined the body in the van.
The air felt heavy and thick as a bullet cannoned down and ragged edges formed the dark red hole that oozed thickly. Blackhawk kept his face passive while blood soaked into his sleeve, radiating outward. Kate raised her hand to her mouth and gave a yell of fear. In the background shouts a panicked voice–a man, perhaps for clearance. Suddenly, the silence surrendered to the haunting scream of footsteps, shaking hands and legs explodes into violent motions out of campus.
• • •
The approaching footsteps of her ground breaking leather boots awoke his heart. She shuffles toward the door and instantly bursts inside with a boy on her hip. Blackhawk jumped in the bed and inwardly flinched at the pain and the acidity in her voice.
"Are you crazy?" she moved toward the bed before settling the child into a baffled Kate's arms.
"Well, hello to you too, baby?" he smirked.
"What if it went to your chest? Your heart?" she gasped. "I told you to quit!"
"And how am I going to support you?" he pulled her hands down. "Baby, this ain't my first rodeo."
"This will be the last–" he sealed her mouth with his. Tongues poking out and about and his hands reaching down to her thigh to lift her to his chest. The scatter of his love had severely affected Clarissa's blush.
A slight ache roamed from his arm to his chest but hadn't stopped him from caging her in. "Yes ma'am."
The bed dipped again and this time, a lighter touch. Kate cleared her throat and stood at the end of the bed. His knees pushed between Blackhawk's and hands crawling for comfort. The boy's giggle and shrieks of laughter echoed through the room. He straddles Blackhawk's chest and arms rounded his neck. The sensation was heart breaking. His touch alone had voiced the pain to sleep and his heart pounding with love. Then came the words. Loud and pinpoint as the first target he strikes. "Dadda," came the word. Clarissa's eyes welled with tears.
Blackhawk ran his hand over his thick black curls, the soft hairs tickling the tips of his fingers. It was only his eyes that remained unchanged, love swirling around with his reflection on the inside. He envies the love consuming him and hadn't known how to return it. His fingers curled around the boys face, caressing his smooth skin as he brought his lips to his plump cheek.
"That's my boy."