Gwen sat up carefully, chest sore from her aborted punch into the other woman's sternum, but otherwise she felt alright, surprisingly. Carefully she hung her feet over the edge of the bed and slid to the floor, the hand rail having been left down on both sides for the last day. That was good, because she still had doubts about being able to work the mechanism on it. She'd looked before, but couldn't find a latch or anything that looked like a catch mechanism at all.
Her legs held, which shocked her a little, after days of bed rest. The sound waves or whatever must have helped her keep her muscle tone at the same time as helping her heal faster. Handy. It meant she could probably go to the bathroom now, instead of using a bed pan. Something worth getting up for. She could go in front of the nurse, but it wasn't exactly her favorite thing. If it had been, she'd be worried about herself.
Walking carefully to the door, she put her head out, looking up and down the hallway. Seeing a nurse, Gwen waved her over and motioned her inside the room, keeping her voice low, in case other people were still sleeping.
“Detective Westmorland had a breakthrough in a pressing case while she slept. She'll need food and her clothing as well as transportation back to her district house. I know that this isn't your job, but since this may literally be a matter of life and death...” Her voice sounded stronger than it had, and she breathed more easily than she'd remembered doing here so far.
The nurse, wide-eyed, nodded and left.
It seemed that the silent nurse felt they needed more for Bethany than what she'd listed off, coming back not only with her clothing, but a small wicker basket of toiletries as well, and told them she'd be back shortly with food.
Gwen still wasn't up to helping her brush her teeth or hair, but the other woman managed just fine when reminded to do something, as if her brain just had so much going on that simple actions had to be coached in her world.
“Bethany, just how much of your mind are you using to figure out this case?” She wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer to such a strange question. It was probably too rude to ask anyway.
The other woman stopped brushing her hair, looked into the distance, and spoke clearly after a few seconds.
“At any given moment, the amount of activity in my mind that addresses some aspect of the case at hand, while in this work mode, approaches ninety-four percent. Not including basic biological functions needed for survival.” Then she stood, brush in hand, waiting again.
“Oh. Remember to finish brushing your hair,” Gwen told her.
Interesting. So, this woman wasn't handicapped at all, not even autistic probably, she simply focused almost all of her processing power on the case at hand, making it nearly impossible for her to do anything else not related to it without someone reminding her. No wonder the others kept talking about her needing a keeper of some kind.
By the time Bethany had finished brushing her teeth, and her hair – which Gwen tried to mimic herself, the hair brushing felt unfamiliar and pulled at her left pectoral muscle more than a bit, even using her right hand for the task – the food came. The nurse brought two trays, each identically filled. It was still early for Gwen, but maybe it was rude to make the other woman eat alone?
She got Bethany to eat all of her food easily enough, simply suggesting she do so.
The other woman merely stood when she was done, not just waiting, she realized, but chasing down every possible lead in her mind somehow. Her standing around didn't mean lack of activity at all, instead it seemed like a sign of hyper-intense focus.
A few minutes later the same nurse returned.
“Ma'am? I've placed a message to the district, the code was left by a detective Chu-an? They're sending someone to retrieve the lady detective as soon as possible. They figure the time at about forty minutes.” Before Gwen could thank her, the woman left.
Gwen climbed back into bed, so that she could remain near the machine that the doctor had told her about, just in case it really worked, and motioned for Bethany to take one of the chairs, since getting into and out of bed fully clothed seemed like a hassle.
They waited in silence. Since Gwen knew that she didn't have any new information, she tried to think through what she'd do if she knew the area a crime might take place in.
A five mile area was huge, searching that kind of area in a city would be nearly impossible unless you had hundreds of people on the task. So first she'd want to try and narrow down the area if possible, finding places similar to the ones the previous killings – sacrifices – had taken place in. If that could be established, if there were a pattern, that could narrow things down. Then if the area were small enough, and if they could find enough manpower, maybe they could find them in time? Just out of curiosity, she asked Bethany if there were any similarities in the sites where the previous murders had happened. It was stupid to let her own boredom interfere with the lady's real work, but she was kind of involved. A little, thanks to being a witness. Not a good reason, but it was all Gwen had for now. She'd have to think of something better if she actually wanted to help and not just be a burden here.
The other woman looked at her for a moment, the look blank and vapid, but the voice that followed had a dull certainty to it, a clear recitation of fact it felt like.
“All took place below ground. Two of them in private dwellings, two in an industrial district with underground storage. The spaces were all converted to the purpose beforehand. The tables, altars most likely, were established as virgin stone, having never been used for ceremonial purposes before. Granite each time.” She stopped talking.
“So, if these tables were of granite, then where did they come from?” This seemed a likely next question to her, but Bethany stood, going more still than she'd seen her.
After nearly a minute, she answered.
“Unknown. There were no manufacturing marks on the stone.”
Gwen frowned.
“I wonder... In my world, a geologist could probably narrow down where a large chunk of stone came from a lot, possibly even to the quarry it came from. If we had that information, maybe we could track them to the supplier. I mean, I suppose it's possible that someone dug them out by hand, but if they were cut, doesn't that take special machinery? It does where I come from.” She shook her head, there were so many things that could be different here, the best she could do at all right now was try to learn what she didn't know.
Trying to play detective here wouldn't work, she just didn't have enough knowledge of things to know what made sense or not. Probably best to just let the woman do her job and try to give her any information she could remember for now. Trying to be Nancy Drew would just be getting in the way. Which was sad. Gwen had always thought she'd make a great girl detective.
They sat in silence until a man she'd never seen before came, the nurse escorting him into the room, seeming more than a little intimidated. Gwen could see why.
He wore a green suit that had a shine, a bit like silk only heavier, a mustache adorned his upper lip, but it wasn't thick enough to hide how his upper lip pulled back in disgust. Gwen knew that kind of expression well, having seen it on the faces of thousands, tens of thousands, of people over the years, directed squarely at her. This time though the man glanced around the room, and focused on Bethany, looking as if he'd rather be almost anywhere else.
“Westmorland, come!” He ordered as if speaking to a dog. A misbehaving dog at that, not a tractable and easily managed one.
Bethany simply stood and walked out, following the man without speaking or turning to say goodbye. He didn't say anything more. Apparently he didn't need to.
“Well, he seems like the biggest asshole I've met here so far,” Gwen muttered to herself. If that kind of treatment was what Bethany normally got, she needed to find someone to protect her fast. Hopefully this jerk just didn't like mornings or something. If Gwen could have managed it in this strange place without getting lost, she'd have followed them to make sure Bethany got to the district house alright.
A-holes like that were almost always bullies at the very least, and seemed to use violence as a first response when thwarted, especially by someone they considered a victim. Gwen wasn't an expert in a lot of things, but bullies she knew pretty well as a subject matter. Better than most in fact. Life had made her a pro in that area, if only to simply survive.
Nothing much happened until later in the day, nearly tea time, she figured, trying to become accustomed to the new schedules here. The two detectives came back, Bethany and Chuan, along with a third man, older than the other two, stocky, but not fat, with a shaved bald head and brown mustache. Behind them came her doctor, Schmidt, and two other people, a man and a woman. Attractive but with worried faces, who looked to be in their late forties.
Schmidt walked to the front of both groups.
“Miss Farris... These people are the Vernors, the Father and Mother of Katherine Vernor, whose body you're currently inhabiting? While I don't know that I agree with the decision to see you, it's their wish, and since this is their daughter's body...” He made that peculiar gesture with his hands again, just turning both palms up without lifting his arms, that Gwen took to mean about the same thing as a shrug would back home.
She hadn't even considered the family of her body, having been too preoccupied with her own worries. And good fortune. These poor people. What could she say to them? Sorry I stole your daughter's body, how do you do?
“Uh...hi?” she said, trying to make eye contact with them – the woman first – since she looked the most anxious. She had on a plain gray dress, with a shawl made of the same type of material, a light tweedy looking substance. The hat on her head looked like a rounded black box and sat on top of her hair with a bun behind it. It had some kind of see-through material, like black toile, that sat over the back, covering her hair.
The man looked concerned as well, possibly sad. He wore a suit in a blue color, almost gray, as well, with a white shirt beneath. His hair, mainly brown, had hints of white in it. His eyes though were a steel color, unlike the woman's brown. Clearly Katherine had taken after her mom in coloration, she thought, looking at them both.
The man looked at her, as if searching for his daughter in her eyes for a few moments. Gwen didn't want to be mean, but she doubted that, whoever Katherine had been, she was anything like the girl, even sitting in her body it was probably clear. Finally he started talking, not breaking eye contact.
“They, the doctor and the Constabulary detectives, they told us what happened. I... we, wanted to apologize for our daughter's actions. To... to pass herself into another like that, even to save her own life, knowing, or at least thinking, that you'd die in her stead... it's unforgivable. Please know, if we can ever do anything for you, funds, a place to stay, anything... we'll do what we can to make this right. I know we can't...” His voice choked up on the last words, his eyes teared a little, but he didn't let go of control, holding them in.
Gwen shook her head, noting how much better she felt, since it didn't hurt at all.