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]

"Yeah, I'll text it to Dani," Malcolm told him, pulling out his phone as he got in the car. "She'll get us a location if he's known to police, which - let's face it - given the company he tends to keep, it's likely." He looked around at them. "Are we headed to Jersey in the meantime?"

[tinstar]

Raylan scoffed as he slid in next to Art in the drivers seat, car prestarted by Rachel before she slid into Tim's car.

"'Course. Crime doesn't sleep and we barely do," he said as Art keyed in the first address. It was going to be a 45 minute drive at least, with traffic. Malcolm would have to help.

"So," Art started, unable in the southern way to deal with silence. "Raylan tells me you're from around here."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considered him a moment.

"Yeah. Born and raised. Then I lived in DC for... about ten years. Then I moved back here." He leaned forward. "How long did you live here?" he asked with real interest.

[tinstar]

Art scoffed. "Like I'd live here." His eyes drifted guiltily out the window. "I stayed in the Village for 8 months on assignment up here."

Raylan couldn't help but chuckle, earning a sharp look from Art before he glanced back at Malcolm. "It was hell."

"Oh c'mon Art - you were in the center of a cultural revolution of cocaine in the 80's," Raylan protested. Art didn't appreciate the comment, and half turned back to look at Malcolm to explain himself. "Nice people but too many and no porches or sweet tea to be found."

[abrightboy]

"They're not all nice people," Malcolm admitted easily. "You lived in the Village in the 80's? Were you undercover? It wasn't just drugs," he surmised, his eyes fixed on Art's profile. "It was the mafia. They ran the trade like they ran everything else before he gangs moved in. But it was more personal than that. Why was it personal?"

[tinstar]

"Indicative of the whole of New York," Raylan quipped with a huff, having already had an experience or two in the short time he'd been here. But Malcolm's question was an interesting one and he turned curious eyes towards his boss.

Art hrumped and shifted uncomfortably. "I had a lot riding on it." That wasn't all, but that was all he was willing to share. Art caught the faint questionable lift of Raylan's eyebrow before continuing, "Oh shut up and drive." Art glanced back at Malcolm. "You always ask this many questions?"

Raylan scoffed a laugh. "Yes."

[abrightboy]

Since Raylan had answered the question, Malcolm continued with his own.

"You had to prove something," Malcolm deduced. "And you don't want to talk about it. Does that have something to do with how Sol eluded you?"

[tinstar]

Art grunted, unsurprised that Malcolm didn't protest Raylan's answer.

"It's a twenty year old case that we spent seven on beforehand. What the hell do you think?" Despite his gruffness, he wasn't angry, just old and spent too much time chasing ghosts. "His family mixes with the Dixie Mafia. He's responsible for a lotta deaths." And that was enough to generally piss him off, much like it did Raylan. They were cut from a similar cloth.

[abrightboy]

"You're a career lawman and he's the one that got away," Malcolm noted. "Does he still run the operation? Does he still get his hands dirty?"

[tinstar]

Art breathed another disgruntled breath as he stared out the window, answering anyway. "He still runs it, but he has men and generals to handle higher stuff now, since he's gettin' on in years. Sol dreamt of being a Mob Boss, but he's just a two bit thug with a lotta history, blown up and outta proportion."

[abrightboy]

"The head and the body," he noted. "We only have to get one thing on him to open up his life," Malcolm pointed out. "Once we catch Quarles, we can help you with that."

[tinstar]

Art shifted in his seat to look back at Malcolm, not an easy maneuver for a man his shape and size. "The NYPD doesn't normally reopen cases that far back. Not useable in court, statutes of limitation. We'd have to get him on something now."

"Not that I don't think there's probably a metric ton of bullshit hiding in all those alleyways," Raylan quipped. "He's been there for so long, he's got dirty roots in a lot."

[abrightboy]

"The squad that deals with organized crime probably has a file open on him," Malcolm pointed out. "But that isn't Gil. Major crimes does... major crimes." He pointed out the window. "Wasn't that our exit?"

[tinstar]

"Shit." Raylan swore tightly as he glanced between his windows. "So we work on Quarles and hope we get enough to kick it up to Major crimes. I don't care who's on him so long as someone is."

Art nodded in agreement.

"One thing at a time. Like you focusing on driving and not enjoying all this bullshit," the older man said with a good natured smirk and glance back at Malcolm. No offence was taken; Art knew people were quirky and knew a few people that fell a little to hard into their work.

[abrightboy]

"If you get off at the next one and turn left, you can catch the road you wanted further up," Malcolm offered before settling back in his seat.

Art was free for the moment.

"I don't expect he'll find shelter in the sort of criminal element where he'd have old connections; most hardened criminals won't abide gruesome sex crimes against children. Do you have access to his computer? Did you search his residence? Is there anyone else he's been in communication with? Message boards on the dark web? Forums for the like-minded? That kind of thing?"

[tinstar]

Raylan was doing just that, forgoing the blinker entirely until they were turning left and back onto the interstate.

"That's if they know," Raylan replied. "He's the kinda man that's built up a reputation of cleanliness to go with the trigger happy record he's got." Art glanced at Raylan, causing him to roll his eyes. "Allegedly," he conceded almost sarcastically. "He'd keep that kinda news to himself. Did you just say 'Dark Web?'?"

There was a slight furrow of Raylan's brow, mostly hidden aside from one side under the brim of his illfitting baseball cap.

[abrightboy]

"That's a real thing," Malcolm said, settling back into his actual seat in the back. "It's a part of the internet where people anonymously indulge in less savoury... 'hobbies'. Not just child exploitation, either. White supremacy, misogyny and sexual violence, incel communities. That sort of thing. But if you have a good tech department, they can usually find the login info for those sites if they can get into their computer."

[tinstar]

"You know last month and for the last 13 prior, he's mostly been hanging out in a Winnebago, right? I'm not saying it ain't real but.. Harlan ain't known for its technological stability. Then again, I don't know where else you'd source little boys.."

"Let's hope he's got his computer then," Art said from the passenger seat.

Ten minutes later, they were pulling up to the first house. Raylan looked at the both of 'em. "I suppose it would be a waste of breath to tell you two to stay in the car, wouldn't it?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm leaned forward again.

"Gil has actually stopped telling me to wait in the car," he volunteered helpfully.

[tinstar]

Raylan gave a long suffering sigh, adjusted his hat before shaking his head at the both of them; Art gave Malcolm a smirk before rolling himself out of the car along with his long legged deputy.

Raylan adjusted his baseball cap and unlatched the gate that led them to the front door and knocked, glancing appricencivly at his company.

A rough, large, tattooed man answered the door. "Yeah, what do you want?"

Art flashed his badge. "US Marshals - We're looking for Robert Quarles. You seen him?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm, unarmed, was at least polite enough to stay behind the Marshalls. When the man opened the door, he watched his face for microexpressions: stress responses...fear responses.

And he saw both.

"Ain't seen 'im," the man said, preparing to shut the door.

"Yes you have," Malcolm countered with certainty from behind Raylan's elbow. "Recently. Today?" He considered the man's face. "No. Yesterday? Yes. Yesterday. And he frightened you. You're scared he'll come back."

"I ain't fuckin' scared of him or anyone else, pipsqueak," he spat, making to take a step towards Malcolm.

[tinstar]

Raylan stopped the man from getting more than a half step from his door with a firm palm on his chest and a dangerous look from under his eyebrows, despite the easy smile on his face. "Let's.. not get ahead of ourselves," he said, shoving the man back into his home. "We're just here to get some information, that's all," he said, casual smile oozing soft southern reassurance.

There was no way Raylan was going to let some ignorant ass step outta line and hit their consultant; the paperwork would be crazy.

The guy didn't seem to appreciate the shove, but if he was going to make more of it was yet to be seen.

"Like I said - I ain't seen him."

Raylan raised his eyebrows. "Then you won't mind us taking a brief look around," he half questioned, inviting himself in with a manner not meant to be argued with, despite the sputterings of the man that he brushed past.

They wouldn't find anything, not here, but Raylan wasn't going to be slacking.

[abrightboy]

Sticking close to Raylan, Malcolm continued asking questions conversationally.

"What did he want? Supplies? A place to crash?" Malcolm considered his facial response to that and followed the question up with "How many nights did he stay here?"

[tinstar]

It was Art's turn to take in the weird bluntness of the well dressed New Yorker, and the seemingly fearless way that he eyed their guy with his questions, as the older man followed in behind to put one hand on the guy's arm as he started to try and join Raylan on his search.

"He didn't," the guy protested just as firmly as he had before. Dude glanced at Art and then at Raylan who was pushing a back bedroom door open with three spread fingertips before looking over at him. "No? Huh. Not a lotta people get away with telling Robert Quarles No. Not without getting a little scrap or blood on 'em," Raylan reasoned, ambling his slow walk back towards the group. "Looks far too pretty in here for you to have said no to Everything..."

Raylan glanced down with a slight spread of his smile. "Hows about you tell us what you said yes to and we don't get a warrent to turn this place upside down, hmm? We'll take what you know and go, no trouble asked."

[abrightboy]

The man looked at Raylan, some stubbornness remaining in his face but a twitch of uncertainty in his expression and the way he shifted his weight.

"It's more than that," Malcolm interjected. "Your stress responses are through the roof. You saw something or he told you something and whatever it was, it freaked you out."

The man turned and grabbed Malcolm's neatly pressed lapel. Malcolm held up one hand towards Raylan, who he was sure would intervene, and one towards the man now giving serious consideration to assaulting him.

"I think I was pretty clear about you shuttin' your mouth or gettin' it shut for you," he burly thug said.

"You were pretty clearly lashing out to protect yourself, definitely," Malcolm allowed, "and you're also pretty clearly a hardened criminal type. So what could he have said or done that would have freaked out someone like you?" he pointed out, holding the man's gaze.

He looked about to snarl but then, suddenly, released Malcolm and turned around, running a hand through his hair, before turning to the Marshals.

"I'm no fuckin' snitch," he said firmly, but his resolve was gone. He took a breath. "But a couple nights ago, I came in late. He was sitting on the couch over there with his laptop, jerkin' off, except when he jumped up to put his dick away, I saw the screen. It wasn't some chick with big titties givin' someone a blow job or somethin'. It was a guy stranglin' a kid. Couldn't've been more than ten. I didn't look close enough to see what else was goin' on. I told him I wanted him gone by morning and left the room. When I got up, he wasn't here no more. I don't know where he went, but he said the first day he was here that there was someone in the city he wanted to visit for a long time, someone who could give him good advice, but he didn't know how he could go see him because the guy's in prison. That's all I know."