High Tide

── THEY SAY YOU don't miss something until you no longer have it, and swallowed by darkness in an abandoned warehouse, Claire missed lights. It seemed ridiculous, for she'd always assumed that she would miss something more important if she was going to bother missing something at all – like food, shelter, water, or even Lisa. Lights were far beyond insignificant in comparison to such things.

Although she supposed she could understand why someone might miss lights if they were trapped in the dark on their own. Finding yourself in such a situation would unsurprisingly be frightening. Not that she was frightened, of course. After all, she solved murders for a living – some of them particularly gruesome – so why on earth would she be frightened of a little darkness that amplified every tiny sound and prevented her from seeing even her own feet?

Okay... Maybe she was a little bit scared. But only a little bit, and the sudden sound of hurried footsteps echoing from somewhere within the surrounding darkness definitely didn't make things worse. She was sure there was a reasonable explanation of some kind for the sound. Perhaps it was just Tyler or Lisa rushing around trying to find her. Yes, that had to be it – see? There was no reason to be frightened – and, just to be sure, she called out to confirm her suspicions.

"Tyler?" The way her voice sounded made her feel uneasy, echoing throughout the darkness as though it wasn't her speaking but, in fact, multiple different people from all around her. She was the opposite of reassured when no response came after several seconds.

Despite common sense telling her to keep her mouth shut, lest the footsteps belong to someone she didn't want to run into, she decided to try again and called out, slightly quieter this time, "Lisa?"

Claire didn't know whether or not to be concerned when only the silence of the shadows taunted her in response. At least one of them had to have heard her; unless the darkness had suddenly become as deafening as it was blinding.

In the absence of a response from either of them, she couldn't help but wish she'd taken a leaf out of Lisa's book and brought her gun along with her instead of leaving it in her desk at the precinct. For in a creepy, labyrinthine warehouse where her colleagues had gone walkabout only God knew where, she certainly would've felt considerably safer with it by her side.

"Okay, Claire," she whispered to herself as she continued shuffling along, trying to be careful about where she placed her feet on a floor she couldn't see. "The sooner you find the stupid exit, the sooner you can get out of here."

Up until that point, she'd managed to hold onto at least some semblance of calmness, spurred on by Abigail's voice in her head. What seemed like an eternity later, however, and things were beginning to unravel much quicker than she'd have liked, her sanity included. After all, this was not how she'd intended to spend her so-called afternoon off.

She'd planned to go home and catch-up on some much-needed sleep, buried under blankets that she would've happily let smother her and left to dream about being swept off her feet by– Okay, what she'd planned to dream about was besides the point. The point itself was that she'd wanted to get some sleep.

Instead, she'd reluctantly agreed to Tyler's offer of scoping out a local warehouse in search of a new lead for their current case. It was a good idea, she supposed, even if she wasn't exactly prepared for anything they might find, but she'd been sent home early to rest after working for three days straight, not do the opposite.

Claire slowed her pace slightly as she pulled her hand away from where she'd been running it against the wall and fumbled for her phone where it was buried in her cardigan pocket. Up until that point, it had been abandoned after failing to connect a call to anyone on Claire's contact list, but now that so much time seemed to have passed, she was ready to find out if she could finally reach someone who would be able to rescue her.

As a consequence of being deprived of light for so long, the screen's brightness was beyond blinding even while on the lowest setting, and it took Claire's eyes several seconds to adjust well enough for her to be able to draw in the correct pattern on her third attempt. It didn't seem worth it, however, when the little symbol at the top of the screen only told her what she didn't want to know – there was no cell service.

God, she was going to kill Tyler. Claire came to a standstill, glaring down at the screen as though she could make the device connect to a network through sheer force of will. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened, and she gripped her phone tighter in frustration.

She'd be less annoyed about the lack of cell service if there were any lights in the building to help her find her way out or if she at least had a flashlight. It was only fitting, then, that Claire noticed the faint glow of her screen lighting up her feet and finally realized something she couldn't believe had bypassed her up until that point.

Her phone had a built-in flashlight.

There she'd been, wandering around blindly because Lisa had gone off somewhere with their only flashlight, and she'd had one of her own the entire time. Already she could hear Abigail's voice in her head, as clear as if she were stood right beside her, "Seriously? How could you forget that your own phone is a light source? Not even a rookie would make that mistake."

Okay, so Abigail definitely would've been a lot nicer about it all than the voice in Claire's head assumed she would, but the point still stood: Claire was an idiot. If she'd have been slaughtered before now by some murderer prowling around in the dark, then she knew she would've deserved it for her own lack of common sense.

Not a moment later, and the corridor ahead was drowned in light, the darkness retreating to the walls and the corners beyond the scope of the flashlight. Claire relaxed slightly – but only slightly. The corridor wasn't much more inviting when lit-up. It was still empty, still rundown, and she was still hopelessly lost.

She glanced down hopefully at her phone again, but five steps forward hadn't been enough to change anything, and she turned the screen off with a sigh. It seemed as though nothing was working in her favor today – even her common sense had betrayed her for what seemed like hours on end.

It was clear now that if she ever wanted to get back home and take the nap she'd wanted to, then she wasn't going to be able to rely on anybody but herself, which likely meant she'd never see her bed, friends or the light of day ever again. She groaned at her own pessimism, and then at the fact that the corridor ahead branched out in every direction possible – as if she wasn't lost enough.

Having been stuck on a path that had consisted almost entirely of left turns up until that point, she decided to favor the right this time, already hugging the wall on that side as she walked. The closer she got to the break in her path, however, the more sinister a feeling it seemed to exude – as though the space between the four branching corridors was rife with malevolent spirits naked to the living eye. A shudder ran down Claire's spine at the idea, and she tried to push all thoughts of spirits from her mind.

It worked, for about a second, until she went to round the corner and something abruptly jumped out at her.

Its monstrous growl was drowned out by Claire's much louder scream, and in her attempt to back-pedal down the corridor, she tripped over her own feet in terror. Her phone left her hand the second she hit the floor, disappearing along the corridor with its still-on flashlight marking the spot where it finally came to rest.

"Oh, fuck," the something said, emerging fully from the adjoining corridor to reveal itself as none other than a tall man with unruly hair and a very guilty look on his face. He made a move towards Claire, still laying dazed and breathless on the floor, but the sound of running from the neighboring corridor stopped him before he could get close enough to help her up.

A second later and the source of the footsteps was revealed to be a woman, who emerged from the corridor with both a gun and a torch held out at the ready. One look at the scene in front of her, however, and she lowered them both with a frown.

"Tyler?" she asked, and Tyler visibly winced at the tone of his name. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Nothing!" he lied, his guilty expression more obvious now than it had been before, but the dark look on her face confirmed that she didn't believe him. "Seriously, Lisa, I was just-"

"Save it," Lisa snapped, shining her torch right in his face. "We both know you're a terrible liar."

"Oh, come on, don't say that," he whined, holding his hands over his eyes to try and shield them from the light. It did no good – considerably shorter, Lisa was at the perfect angle to blind him. "I was just trying to have a bit of fun!"

"Does she look like she's having fun?" Lisa asked in annoyance, briefly waving her flashlight in Claire's direction where she was still sprawled on the floor – despite now knowing that she wasn't in any danger, she'd still neglected to actually get up. "There is a serial killer wandering around out there somewhere; what in God's name made you think scaring the crap out of her would be a good idea?" Tyler opened his mouth to answer, even though he knew the question was rhetorical, but Lisa wasn't finished. "You're lucky Abigail isn't here; she'd kick your ass if she was."

"I'm not scared of Abigail," Tyler said without missing a beat, although the look on his face at the idea of her witnessing what he'd just done said otherwise. As Lisa crouched down to help Claire to her feet, neither of them missed Tyler glance uncertainly over his shoulder into the darkness as though he was worried Abigail would suddenly lunge at him from beyond the shadows.

"You should be," Claire warned, fixing her cardigan as she finally got to her feet. "She could kill someone with just one look." Lisa glanced at her from the corner of her eye, not quite seeming to agree but saying nothing.

"That may be so," Tyler said, "but she wouldn't kill me." He didn't sound as sure as his words suggested.

"She would if I asked her to," Claire told him, giving him one last smug look before she turned away to retrieve her phone.

"Why, because you're her favorite?" Tyler's bitter emphasis on the word didn't go unnoticed, and it only made Claire smirk as she checked her phone's screen for cracks.

"I'll have you know I worked hard to become her favorite," she said, and while she knew such a thing wasn't quite true, Tyler knew it more.

"Worked hard, my ass," he said, crossing his arms in a sulk. "All you did was smile and bat your eyelashes."

"Well, it's not my fault that I'm irresistible." To emphasize her point, Claire exaggeratedly brushed her hair back over her shoulder.

Tyler scowled and said, "I wouldn't go that far." Claire made to protest, despite agreeing with him, when Lisa chose to remind them both that she was still there.

"Are you two done?" she asked, looking between them with a blank look of boredom.

"Maybe," Tyler said, but Claire had other ideas.

"Yes, we are," she said firmly. "So, can we please get out of here now?" She looked pointedly at Tyler. "Before I really do get Abigail to kill you."

"Fine, fine," Tyler sighed, pretending to give in – really, he too wanted to leave. He hadn't planned to waste quite this much of the afternoon they'd been given off after all. "But let's get one thing straight: I'm not doing it because I'm scared of Abigail." Claire and Lisa swapped a doubtful look. "I'm doing it because I'm hungry and I want a burger."

Even with Tyler blasting the latest pop hits on the radio, car journeys didn't fail to make Claire sleepy, so when they finally dropped her off outside the precinct, she almost tripped her way out of the backdoor.

"Are you sure you don't want us to wait?" Tyler asked, watching as she gathered her hair. He'd been surprised when she'd asked to be brought here instead of home, knowing full well she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but she'd said something about a journal, and Tyler knew from experience that it was better to avoid arguing with Claire.

"I'm sure," Claire said before gesturing down the street. "You know I don't live far; I can walk."

"I know." Tyler drummed his fingers against the wheel. Clearly there was more on his mind, and it was mostly to do with a serial killer. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Don't worry," Claire said, waving at them as she backed towards the building's entrance. "I can pack a punch, believe it or not." Tyler shook his head in disbelieving amusement, and when they'd driven off, Claire turned away with a smile before heading inside.

She waved at the woman stationed at the help-desk as she passed and disappeared into a surprisingly empty elevator. Only needing to go one floor up, she supposed it would've been quicker to simply take the stairs, but the doors were closing before she could change her mind.

When she emerged on the second floor, she quickly realized that it was slightly quieter than she'd expected, although not so quiet that she couldn't hear multiple different conversations from across the room.

She hadn't thought it was that late and glanced down at her watch – 6pm. No, not that late at all, but perhaps people just had places to be, and she knew she wasn't the only one who'd been on her feet for three days straight.

She made a beeline for her desk and was hunched over it the second she was within reach. She'd come back here, instead of going straight home, in search of her journal, and she wasn't going to leave again until she was 100% convinced it wasn't hidden among the general neatness of her desk.

When she couldn't find it under a single piece of paper, case file or even her keyboard, she resorted to looking through the draws she was unfortunately certain weren't going to yield a different result.

She was distracted from her fervent searching less than a minute later, however, by the sound of her own name. "Claire?" She looked up and, having immediately recognized her voice, was nowhere close to being as surprised to see Abigail as Abigail was to see her.

"Hey, Abby!" she said cheerfully, sparing her a bright smile before she went back to flicking individually through the alphabetized files in her top drawer. Slightly surprised by her friend's unexpected return, Abigail couldn't help but stare at her for a moment.

"What're you doing back here?" she asked with a frown. "I thought I sent you home to get some sleep."

"Yeah, well, that was the plan," Claire sighed, not even bothering to look up. "But Tyler convinced me and Lisa to go with him to check out some abandoned warehouse." Abigail almost choked on her coffee, immediately lowering the cup – that was the antithesis of what she'd told them to do.

"I'm sorry, he did what?"

"Don't worry, nothing happened," Claire lied. "It was just a waste of time."

"Right," Abigail said, Despite knowing there was more to it than Claire claimed, she refrained from questioning her any further. If it was important, Claire would've told her.

"So, I saw you hanging out with Robert again earlier," Claire said, briefly eyeing Abigail over the edge of her desk. Her teasing tone didn't go unnoticed, and Abigail groaned as she fell into the chair behind her own desk.

"God, I hate you," she muttered, casting a glare in Claire's direction although there was only mirth behind it.

"Of course you don't," Claire said, unable to help but beam in response as she rifled through the lowest draw of her desk. "Was he asking you out for drinks again?"

"Yes," Abigail admitted with a sigh. "Do men ever know when to quit?"

"I wouldn't know," Claire told her with a faint shrug. "I thankfully don't get a lot of attention from men, and the ones who are interested usually back off when they learn I'm gay." She sighed, briefly tidying up the contents of the draw she'd been looking through before she closed it in defeat. "So, did you give him the usual excuse?"

"That I had plans with you?" Abigail said. "Obviously. But I think he's starting to catch onto the fact that I'm lying."

"Well," Claire began, making an impatient start on the next draw up, "next time just tell him you're doing something with Lisa instead. I don't want him coming to me next."

"But Lisa barely has a social life," Abigail pointed out. "Saying I'm going to the bar with her is even more far-fetched than saying I'm going to the bar with you."

"Because I don't drink alcohol?" Claire asked, shutting the draw harder than she had the last one.

"Because you're boring," Abigail clarified, and the scowl Claire threw her way only made her grin. "And you still haven't told me why you came back here."

"Well, I came back to look for my journal," Claire said, rising to her feet, "but it's not here, so I guess I'll have to search at home again." With her entire desk searched from top to bottom and no sign of the book in question, she was ready to give-up and finally head home to her bed.

"I can look around here some more for you later," Abigail offered, sitting up. If it wasn't her sketchbook, Claire was usually hunched over the journal in question at some point during the week. It was a pretty thing – navy blue with a gold design on the front – and Abigail found it odd that Claire had managed to misplace it.

"Oh, you don't have to." Claire knew before she spoke that it was pointless – Abigail would look regardless of what was said – but she also knew that Abigail wouldn't even entertain the thought of going through the book. That was something Tyler would do, forever enthralled by other people's business. He was the biggest gossip out of them all.

"Maybe not," Abigail said with a shrug. "But it's important, right? So I'll look."

"Thank you." Claire pulled her collar out from under the strap of her bag. "But don't look too hard, okay? I'm sure it's at home somewhere, and I just missed it." Abigail frowned. Claire was one of the most organized and down-to-Earth people she knew. Losing something in the first place was rare enough for her; not being able to find it again was completely unheard of.

Instead of mentioning that, however, she got to her feet, gestured towards the elevator, and said, "Right, well, I was just about to go out and grab some food; if you're heading home, why don't I walk with you?" She'd originally planned to drive, despite how close the restaurant was, but knowing that Claire wouldn't accept a ride home, and still wanting to make sure she got there safely, Abigail instantly made the decision to walk instead.

"Sure," Claire said, stepping around the wastepaper basket beside her chair. "If you think you can keep up with me." Abigail couldn't help but laugh, walking with her to the elevator, and Claire quickly forgot all about her missing journal.