ramblesandreblogs:

ramblesandreblogs:

I don’t even know you guys…

It’s the smell of smoke that’s bugging him.

Oliver picks up his phone to check for new messages, zero, and fiddles with it in his hand. He’s a little keyed up; he’s been a little keyed up for a while now. He clicks play on the video again and the local news theme chimes out of the tablet speakers. He aims for detached as he watches the segment again. It’s his sixth time through and he’s not sure what he’s hoping will be different this time around.

The solemn reporter explains that they found the body of Connor’s boss’s husband. His body was burned and disfigured. Separated into trash bags and thrown out with the rest of the garbage to end up in a landfill. The victim had been reported missing weeks ago. The police are actively investigating and have no suspects they’d like to announce at this time. Everyone is still being considered.

Oliver remembers the victim had been reported missing the day Connor showed up on his doorstep tweaking out. The office calling him into work to help handle the burgeoning crisis had been what pulled Connor away before the two of them had a chance to talk. What an unfortunate twist of timing.

Oliver remembers how the scent of smoke lingered in his apartment and the hallway for hours after Connor left. He’d had to wash the set of towels Connor used twice to get the trace of firewood and ash and something else that Oliver couldn’t quite place out of the cotton. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Everyone knew it was the night of the Middleton bonfire and everyone who wasn’t a nineteen-year-old college student also knew to give the blocks that make up Middleton a wide berth on that night.  Connor didn’t strike Oliver as the school spirit type but still Connor could have stopped by. It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. It was horrible that the victim’s body had been burned the same night of the Middleton bonfire. What a terrible coincidence.  

Oliver remembers hacking into the Department of Transportation database to help Connor in proving the victim could have been in Philly that fall night in time to kill that poor girl. He’d handed over the information with little fanfare but Connor had been suitably impressed. “Jesus Oliver. Is there anything you can’t hack?” “Quite a number of things I imagine.” “I know but—I mean—what about— like traffic cameras?” “You don’t think the tolls are going to be enough evidence?” “No—not for this case. Just in general, do you think you could hack into a traffic camera—for like fun or something?” Oliver’d been puzzled at that. What an odd question.

Alone, none of this means anything, he tells himself. Hell, none of it put together means anything. But still…

And now Connor isn’t answering his texts or calls. Connor, who once texted Oliver from the table on the middle of a date to ‘Hurry it up’ getting their next round from the bar, is avoiding him.

It’s all just a little strange, he thinks as he calls Connor’s cell again. Hanging up as the voicemail message starts (he’s already left three messages that have gone unanswered, what’s the point of leaving another one), Oliver pushes replay on the news segment and watches it all again.

Just a little strange.