The Lengths That I Would Go To

[abrightboy]

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Comments

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughed, genuinely.

"I do try to spend most of my time working. Too deep in my head is not the best place to be." He considered Raylan. "That seems like something you might relate to, actually."

[tinstar]

"It's why I'm a divorcee," he supplied with enough humor to make it seem like that loss didn't still hurt him. "She said she couldn't stand wondering if I was going to come home with a hole or bring a gunfight to her front door. I keep saying I'll quit, get a desk job but.."

Raylan gave a sheepish look and a roll of his shoulders. "One more big case up here and I'll be able to transfer back to Miami. Do something a little less volatile."

Raylan might transfer but he was fooling himself with the idea that men like him lived a less volatile kinda life.

[abrightboy]

"Is that what you really want?" Malcolm asked. "I mean, if you couldn't do it for her...."

[tinstar]

"I am doing it for her. Once I deal with Boyd, I can get outta this hellhole, do what I said." The statement was given with a sure nod. He was resolute..

Too bad it would fail him. But the effort was what was important, right?

[abrightboy]

"If that's what's important to you, why not let someone else deal with this Boyd character and do it now?" Malcolm pressed curiously.

[tinstar]

Something shifted in Raylan's face as he looked down into his coffee cup. It was in his jaw and the way he held his shoulders. Subtle was the word, unless someone knew him well enough to pick it out because as he continued, there was a carefully controlled casual tone behind his words.

"Because Boyd is smarter than the average hillbilly. A former Nazi and born again preacher and a bomb expert, not to mention being a well read asshole. A dangerous man that's going to burn the county down with his bullshit and the Marshal's have been trying to keep him behind bars for several years. I hit Boyd's trigger." He hit Raylan's.

"All I gotta do is catch him doing what Boyd does best. Help them build an actionable case. Then I'm out."

[abrightboy]

"Seems reasonable," Malcolm told him. "How long have you been working on it?"

This was personal. Intensely personal, from what Malcolm could tell, but he'd let Raylan say it if he wanted to. Or not, if he didn't want to.

[tinstar]

"More years then I'd like. Slippery little bastard keeps getting out of prison."

Sweet relief came in the form of their breakfast being delivered and Raylan greeted it with open hands, instantly in a better mood for it. Grabbing up his fork and knife, Raylan wasn't shy about digging in.

"There's only a few big crime families in Harlan. Crowder was one of them. Mags Smith was the other." Then there was the Givens, but Raylan didn't mention that. "People that didn't grow up here, they're known. Stick out like a sore thumb and nothing makes Harlan county clam up like carpetbaggers or a badge. I'm the only real leverage that the Marshal's service has out in these lands."

[abrightboy]

"Because you're one of them," Malcolm surmised, taking a small bite of plain scrambled egg. The slice of ham was bigger than he'd like. He cut it in half. "Complete with crime family," he noted, recalling the stories of Arlo's misdeeds. He gestured to the ham. "Do you want half of this?"

[tinstar]

Raylan nodded. There was no better way to put it. The question got a shrug and nod. Sure he could tuck away whatever Malcolm didn't want.

"Gets me into doors, gives me a.. social currency that they don't have." The words were followed with a healthy bite. After all, Raylan wasn't sure when his next meal would come.

"I'm sure you've got some version of that, with your situation."

[abrightboy]

"Some version of that?" He laughed lightly, pushing the extra ham towards the edge of his plate closest to Raylan. "Oh. No. I have the opposite of that," he said, punctuating the word 'opposite' with his fork in the air. "My name opens zero doors, hearts or minds. I don't tell people who I am and I hope they don't figure it out while I'm worming my way inside their head."

[tinstar]

Malcolm was just looking at the wrong doors. The wrong coin of life. But on second thought, Malcolm using that currency was.. probably not a Great Thing. It would be a fine line to walk for anyone slightly fractured. Malcolm Bright was significantly more damaged than 'fractured'.

"Knowing enough to worm inside their head is the currency." That was a better way of looking at it from that side. Raylan speared the extra ham and drug it over onto his quickly emptying plates. "Just not one you can use everywhere." Just like his own.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm took another small bite of egg.

"I can use it everywhere," he countered, "but people do not like it, so it can close the door just as easily as it can open it." He shrugged a shoulder and cut a small piece of ham off of his half slice. "But I can't always help it, either, so I mostly just live with people finding me annoying but effective," he explained, popping the bite of meat into his mouth.

[tinstar]

"Just because you can, doesn't mean doing it gains you something." Aka Should do. "But I guess not being able to help yourself kinda takes that choice away." See? He wasn't that dull.

It would have been helpful for Raylan to remember that own advice when his hand was itching to get onto his gun.

"Everyone is." He'd learn that, sooner or later. The people that managed to have full and healthy relationships? Those were the rare ones. Raylan frowned a little as his hip started ringing and his knife was traded for his phone.

"Givens," was the greeting, but the instant steel and sternness that changed Raylan's face was telling as to it's importance. "Yeah? Where from?"... "Sonofabitch. Yeah, I'm on my way. Bring the files with you then."

He nodded, despite the caller not being able to see the motion before he hung up.

"Second girl's gone missing. A few miles outside of that property I found." He was driven.. and also hungry. Raylan stuffed a few more ungraceful bites into his mouth as he scooted out of the seat to pull out his wallet and dig out some bills.

[abrightboy]

That had Malcolm's attention.

He'd eaten half an egg and one bite of ham, but he left the plate, throwing some money on the table as well. Probably far too much for one egg and a piece of ham, but the waitress had put up with his order without saying anything.

"How long will it take us to get there?" he asked, right on Raylan's heels on the way out of the restaurant.

[tinstar]

"Same as it took us to get here," he replied, hat readjusted as he dug out his keys and slid into the car. As soon as Malcolm was in, he was tearing out of the parking lot and racing down the highway.

This wasn't going to be a Sunday drive.

"I hate the fact that this is a question that I've gotta ask but.. How long does this guy take, how much time does he invest into an actual killing."

[abrightboy]

"There's an art to it, but it depends how much time he's already spent planning this particular murder. It's hard to tell, because he's had his audience to deal with, which he hasn't had to deal with before. Do we know when she was taken?" Malcolm asked. "Do we know when he took her exactly?"

[tinstar]

"No telling. She was supposed to show up for work, just like the last one, and didn't." Raylan sucked his teeth shortly. "We've got one shot and two places to check out."

The car accelerated. This was why he'd wanted to stay in Harlan. If this girl died because he decided to be soft, Raylan was going to be pissed.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm stared out the window.

He was the reason they left Harlan. Him and all his problems. It wasn't going to be Raylan's fault if she died; it would be Malcolm's. And he knew it.

Suddenly he said "Drop me off at one and get to the other."

[tinstar]

They could argue about blame rights once they knew if blame needed to be assigned.

"So you can do what? Get yourself sawed or thrown down a mine shaft? They go up to 500 feet, some of 'em - you fall in there, you're a goner. I got Tim and Rachel. They'll take the second property. I'm not dropping you off with nothing but your bag to try and stop this guy."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looked at him sharply.

"I was in the FBI for ten years. I know how to take down a suspect," he said.

[tinstar]

"More people get shot out here than do getting injured by stupidity or drunk driving," he said back, glancing at Malcolm as his right hand took to gesturing, thumb finding his middle finger as his index moved around aimlessly towards the window.

"It's not about your skill, it's about what you got and not doing it without backup. You can shoot but you don't carry and anything you do that comes back is going to be up to it's ass in paperwork."

This wasn't about Malcolm's ego.

[abrightboy]

It wasn't about Malcolm's ego, as far as he was concerned. It was about saving a woman's life. Two women's lives.

"We shouldn't have left," he mumbled, looking out the window again.

[tinstar]

"Shoulda headed back sooner." It was a clipped reply, short and to the point.

There was life past other's death. It was a point of struggle and contention for the Marshal sitting next to him, and half of why he was stuck in Kentucky right now. He had to suffer consequences. Responsibilities.

"But wishing in one hand and shitting in the other only leaves you with a dirty palm. No point in crucifyin' yourself."

[abrightboy]

"How far away is Tim? When will he get there?" Malcolm asked.