Thread: Scaremonger (Mr Quixotic & Lait)

As Noakes stepped closer, the bruises on the woman's body appeared to come alive the purple and brown standing out so vividly on her caramel skin. He'd seen rape victims before, of course, it was par for the course in his job, but never one who'd been battered as badly as this that was, if she'd been telling the truth. However before he could speak, or ask about her welfare, Edwards had shot him a glare one which told him to remain silent and taken the lead. Seniority and experience counted for much in the Police Force, and the younger man knew better than to disobey orders. His livelihood depended on it. That much he'd learned in the Academy. Edwards leaned back in the seat, crossed one leg over the other, and casually scanned the medical equipment. The man despised Hospital's, they were always so dark and depressing - why the hell didn't they paint the walls in a cheerful colour something like bright green or yellow, rather than drab institutional grey? - but the sight of IV's, or the woman's condition didn't affect him. Try spending five years in Traffic, where you had to view the smashed and broken, lifeless bodies of young children who'd been thrown through the windscreen of their parent's vehicle after been hit by a drunk-driver, and impacted the asphalt with enough force to be barely still be recognisable as human beings. They were the real victims not women such as this, who regardless of how she had come to be here, had placed herself in a position to allow it to occur. As Edward's realised she'd begun to speak, his focus moved to her face. The story she told was similar to ones he'd heard before, and his countenance didn't change, however from behind, as she spoke about the violence, there was a sharp intake of breath. The two policemen's met again, and held each other's for a second, before Noakes glanced away. A look of disgust and anger had passed across his features. Edwards was going to need to have a talk to the boy emotions were best kept to yourself so as not to influence proceedings, or provide the impression that accusations were accepted as fact. Despite that, Edwards unwillingly found himself beginning to feel some sympathy for the woman as each word burned into his ears. Her tone, the surety of her words, the obvious anger, and that look in her eyes had caused him to start to believe her. Unconsciously, he leaned forward in his seat, and the hand not holding the notebook reached out to pat her arm in a gesture of consolation. Then, before fingers contacted skin, everything changed. Cole Douglas is the reason I'm sitting here on this hospital bed talking to you. Cole Douglas is the reason why my face looks like this. Cole Douglas is the genius who thought he could play it off by tossing me at the bottom of the steps and making it seem like I was some drunk whore looking for a good time. Time slowed, and the air thickened. It felt as if he were stuck in a vat of molasses as eyes widened, and neck craned to meet the similarly shocked expression of his colleague. Cole. Fucking. Douglas. The two officer's had just stepped into the biggest shit-storm imaginable, and needed to get the hell out of there. Pronto. Always the professional, and with greater experience, Edwards was first to recover his composure, The notebook snapped shut, and he stood from the seat. Pupils narrowed as he locked them on the woman in the bed. Let's see if I have this straight, Miss. Noake's could do nothing but stand motionless and stare. You attend a party that you didn't wish to attend. Spend whatever time sitting by yourself in a corner, speaking to no-one, and drinking soda, when suddenly four men you don't know from Adam decide to harass you? Subsequently, of your own volition, you walk upstairs to their location, where they take it upon themselves to drag you into a room and rape you. All without any provocation whatsoever? Edwards made a point to check his notebook, as if to ensure he'd written everything down correctly, and continued on without pause. Where after they're done, they pour liquor down you throat - which apparently explains why, according to the Doctor, your alcohol reading was six times over the legal limit - beat you with their fists, and dump you outside? All of this occurred without you managing to scream, or otherwise attracting the attention of a single person? The officer's head shook, - he'd begun to convince himself that her story was indeed bullshit, and injected sarcasm in to his tone. I assume there's no witnesses that you've conveniently neglected to mention? It was a rhetorical question asked as he motioned for Noake's to leave the room. We'll investigate, but without independent corroboration, I doubt we'll make any progress. However, if you still wish to lodge a formal complaint, I'd suggest you attend the police station when the sedatives wear off, and you've regained the full use of your faculties. Five seconds later, Edwards had left the room to join Noakes, whose face was a pasty white. Their actions went against all training and protocol, not to mention any commitment to 'protect and serve'. The irony was that it was the only way to protect their careers. Brock Douglas political connections and influence would ensure his own safety, and this sort of shit always rolled downhill. What the fuck are we going to do? Edwards gripped Noakes by the shirtfront, and jerked him roughly forward so that their faces almost touched. His tone brooked no disagreement. You are going to keep your damn trap shut, and not breathe a word of this to anyone. He shook the younger man and stared him down, until he was certain that he'd gotten the point, then shoved him away and turned towards the nurses station. They'd collect the girl's clothing and medical report. As they approached, the Senior Officer slipped the police radio from his belt. Evans, get me the Sheriff. NOW. A brief pause. Brock, we have a problem. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- And your buddies are going to give me the same story? Brock Douglas stood at his kitchen counter, arms folded across barrel chest, and stared at his only son who leaned casually against the door jamb. Don't stress, Dad, They were there the entire time, and they'll confirm every word. Cole paused for emphasis. Every word. The Sherriff's eyes remained locked on his son.No-one else was present? No-one noticed you with the girl? Cole shrugged nonchalantly. No-one. The bitch asked for it, and I gave her what she wanted. She can say whatever she likes, but that's what happened. Honestly, there's nothing to worry about. The rapist was now consoling his father. The elder Douglas' lips pursed as he contemplated the situation, then slowly he unfolded his arms and nodded. Not once had he asked if his son had done it if the girl's story were true, and that his own flesh-and-blood had brutally raped a defenceless woman, and beaten her half to death. He knew it to be true, however that wasn't the point. The point was that Cole had been smart, and there was an opportunity to save both their skins. Whatever had happened to the woman, in all likelihood had been deserved. A man could only take so much teasing, rejection, or mouthing off. God knows, he'd had cause enough to use his fists on the boy's mother. The woman was probably lucky that she'd died giving birth. The men met in the middle of the room, and Brock clapped his only child on the shoulder. I'll take care of it. Next time, just don't crap in your own nest. Or mine. Understand me? Cole smiled. Yes Sir, as his Father departed, then grabbed himself a beer from the fridge. There was a game about to start, and he didn't want to miss kick-off.