Julia sat at her desk, absently drawing a doodle of a happy child in happier times. She had long ago given up on trying to concentrate – the room was littered with half-read books and unfinished doodles, the trash overflowing with crumpled drawings. She glared at the unfinished picture, and sighed in defeat. Crumpling up the paper, she added it to the growing heap.
There was a knock at the door and she straightened herself up, not bothering even to try to tidy up the mess. “Come in.”
Umbry swept into the room, her long black hair flowing behind her, her arms full with old case files. She used both elbows to shove papers off the table, then carefully laid the pile of case files down in their place. Julia watched with a sort of absent half-interest, her head leaning on her hand. The silence became thick with something awful.
At last Umbry broke the silence. “I want to see if we can find anything out about Mr. Whi–”
“I know.”
Silence again.
“It’s been a long time since someone’s–”
“I know.”
And silence.
“Then you should know I’m not good at comforting people,” Umbry snapped, glaring at her partner.
Julia almost smiled at that. “That is true. I consider it to be one of your finer qualities.” She turned to face her partner. “It gets to you, you know? This is like, what, the third person close to us in three years?”
Umbry perched herself on the edge of the table. “According to the FBI, three murders with the same criteria designates a pattern.” She was smiling a little as she said it, but it was just the ghost of a smile.
Julia could tell she was serious. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” she said gravely. “This can’t be a coincidence. It doesn’t feel right.” Then she grinned. “Hey, look at the bright side. At least now we know where the other box is.”
She hesitated for just a second and then stood up. Umbry followed her to the back of the room to an old filing cabinet, and together they opened the very bottom drawer. Reaching way into the back, Julia’s fingers touched a small bronze box. She took it out and placed it on the table.
It was a music box. On the top, lovingly engraved, was a tiny insignia of the sun eclipsed by the moon. The two of them stared at it, each of them remembering. They were still standing there, like pensive statues, when Lindsay charged into the room.
“Yo,” he called out, “you wanted some files about that Italian woman, right? Franchinella or something?”
Umbry glared at him. “Francesca.”
“Right, that.” He stopped and took a better look at his two bosses. How symmetrical they looked – they always seemed like twins when they were thinking deeply about something. They had exactly the same thinking face, he noticed. “Um, am I interrupting something?”
“What?” They both asked at the same moment, turning to look at him in unison.
Lindsay shook his head, at a loss for words. Julia was the first to move into action, half-skipping past him toward his computer. “No problem — I’ll check out those files on Francesca, thanks. You interrupted us with something relevant, so it’s okay,” she said, smiling as she passed him, but her smile seemed rushed and perhaps a little contrived. Lindsay sighed, realizing that whatever was going on he was out of his depth. He retreated to the living room to pet the cat while Julia worked on his computer, leaving her partner alone with the music box.
Umbry sighed, pulling at the top of the box, trying one more time to tease it open. As always, though, it wouldn’t budge. She ran her fingers gently over the hand-engraved symbol, and then reluctantly put the box back in its place in the bottom filing cabinet drawer. She straightened herself, turned off the light in her partner’s room and silently closed the door behind her.