abrightboy | The Lengths That I Would Go To

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."

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From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

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?"

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

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."

From:

abrightboy

Malcolm looked at him sharply.

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

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

abrightboy

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

From:

tinstar

"30 minutes ahead of us. Everything depends on how he drives. We might cut a 3 hour drive down into two. Less than if we're real lucky," he replied, glancing in his rearview. "Let's hope our guy takes his time."

By the time they hit Harlan county lines, Raylan's jaw had stayed tensed. It would have been a great time to smoke. It was evident how fast he was going as soon as they touched dirt road, a magnificent plumb of dust kicking up behind him.

"If you won't take a gun, you'll get the crowbar out of the trunk. But make sure you don't lose it, that thing cost me 30 bucks."

From:

abrightboy

"What if it gets dirty?" Malcolm said flatly. He wasn't above hitting a man with a crowbar to save two lives.

From:

tinstar

"You say that like anything stays clean."

Raylan afforded Malcolm a sidelong smirk before unloading some details. "Place we're going used to be a farm and buchary. Lots of old knives and out of use freezers. Crowbar might come in handy for more than one thing."

From:

abrightboy

"A farm with an abattoir?" Malcolm said, sitting up suddenly. "What's the other site? What kind of place is the other site?"

From:

tinstar

"A lumber mill. The river that supplied it dried up a couple of decades ago and the trees started dying off; why? They're both set up to handle his style of bullshit, far enough away from others and both abandoned properties, not to mention how close they are comparatively."

From:

abrightboy

"His pattern is to stage the deaths like accidents. He'll go for the site with the biggest impact," Malcolm told him. "A lumber mill, a lumber mill. Does it still have equipment? Like saws? Or has it been stripped?"

From:

tinstar

Raylan glanced between Malcolm and the road several times as he weighed that. It was the moment of truth. Did he trust the oddly damaged profiler or cover all their bases? The latter would be the smarter option.

"Shit," Raylan spat, turning the wheel and u-turning them violently, town car fishtailing as it gained traction in it's new direction. "You better be sure about this."

From:

abrightboy

"My theories are only as good as the information I build them on. I take it there's still equipment there? Does it still work?" Malcolm pressed.

From:

tinstar

"You ever seen a sawmill? Things are massive. It would cost more to tear them out than anyone's got and it's abandoned for a reason. All he'd need to do is get power into it and that's not hard. Get you a good sized generator.."

From:

abrightboy

"I know it's going to shock you to learn that I've never been in a sawmill," Malcolm said dryly. An abattoir, yes. But this one sounded relatively small and largely equipped with manual tools. No splash. "Is generator easy to get? To transport? Do people leave them unattended around here?"