Notes: Not the same as the others RE OC-insert fan fiction stories. Hopefully. It has its cliché element and everything. But definitely aiming towards a variety rather than relying on the norm. Still under editing. But meh.
Prelude
Lightning strikes and the dark night momentarily splashed with hue of silver and white; illuminating the heavy clouds and the supposedly slumbering town below.
Upon a closer look towards Fairview Township, thick-black smokes arise from a suburban neighbourhood at the edge of the residential areas. Fire trucks after fire trucks arrive at the scene of the crime as is the authorities that situated nearby, crowds of concerned neighbours and equally intrigued strangers stand behind the yellow tapes that the police officers manage to set up in time.
Each of these individuals attempt to peek through the forming security, thinking that information might be given to them if they stare enough; some even tried to sneak in, but were easily stopped due to the keen eyes of the officers in charge. Lieutenant Linda Jones scowls as she scrutinises the building before her, both hands on each hip—a pretty little blue house with white trims, and cozy atmosphere that suits the resident of a happy family—nothing out of the ordinary if not for the large gaping hole at its upper right side.
The lieutenant drops her hands and moves closer to the scene of the crime; its smoking, but with no fire in sight, from the look of its burnt-blackened edges and the way they curl outwards—it'd seem that the cause is due to an explosion of sort. Could it be an act of terrorism, or an arsonist perhaps?
The lieutenant frowns absent-mindedly at the thought; both accusations are a possibility. But if that was true. Why any of them would target an innocent civilian housing? The jam-packed town's schooling areas or the heart of the marketplace in Fairview Township would be a much preferable location than here, no?
Lieutenant Jones clicks her tongue in mild concern, thoughts going a mile per minute as different reasoning and rationale course through her mind, focusing more on the impact of this kind of event would do towards the good folks here in Fairview Township.
Something catches her attention at the corner of her eyes. Several flashing something to be exact.
Great. The reporters are here; and she thought it couldn't get any worse.
Lieutenant Linda Jones straightens up before setting her lips into a thin line and moves towards the raucous and the headache and a half that's going to be the multiple troublesome inquiries thrown in her way.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but we have not yet found the cause of the incident that happened here, and it'd be lovely if we can ask for everyone to co-operate in our investigation." The deep, warm baritone voice carries out to the crowds forming in front of him. Green eyes making contact with each of them and a comforting smile to keep them at ease; a tactic use to prevent resistance in any kind.
It works, despite the concern gazes thrown around at each other or at the house that has become the main crime scene—the crowds begin to recede, as adults usher the young ones to their respective homes; it's a good thing that the incident took place around midnight. Officer Robert Brown couldn't help but to sigh in relief, but turns slightly tense at the sight of a few arriving vans with varying logos that he knows to be the medias.
Out of the belly of the crocodile, into the mouth of a tiger; shit just cannot get any worse than this. Officer Brown really hopes that he didn't just jinx himself with those famous last words. Each of the vans' door open almost simultaneously, and a minute after, several reporters and cameramen instantly begin to fill the area, expression eager and excited for a hot scoop—just like a pack of starving wolves.
Officer Brown mentally berates himself for the jinx and inwardly wince at the wild look in their eyes; green orbs surreptitiously glance around to look for backup in case things get a bit rowdy. Officer Davis and Miller catch his subtle pleas for help and are quick to lend a hand or two—bless their emphatic souls.
The moment the reporters reach a feet of the yellow tapes, that's when the constant flashes of camera go off and the onslaught of incessant questions start—how the heck did these people manage to get a hold of his and his comrades names in such short notice are beyond him. "Do not cross the yellow tapes!" The shout that's laced with a warning growl and an impressive bone-chilling glare are enough to silence the reporters' down.
But even he knew that it wouldn't last for long; unless you're the infamous Lieutenant Linda Jones of course. She is known to put the threats-going-literal in a whole other meaning; and is a firm believer towards 'you done me bad, I'd give you worse; you're nice to me, I'd be kind to you'. Let's just hope that this wouldn't end up like the last time a reporter decided to be a smartass and take her as a doormat.
Officer Micheal Davis is strucked speechless when the lieutenant orders him to usher the reporters to the side, whereas his drinking buddy, Officer William Miller is ordered to watch over the cameraman as they are permitted to take pictures of the house behind the "do not cross" yellow tapes.
"Try to cross the lines again and you're going to spend the night under lock-up," The lieutenant warned, dark eyes clear with the intention of carrying her words through—Officer Davis has a hard time to not end up smirking like a loon, that's lieutenant for you, but it still confuses him that she's being lenient about this; even as she begins to answer the reporters questions in clipped, and simple replies.
"We don't really know what happened here, but all we did know is that the incident took place around midnight; estimated time of 00:00—the cause is still undetermined at the moment, but give some time for our forensics to do their job, though it'd be advisable to any residents to be on guard and lock the windows and doors of their homes just in case, if there's any more information regarding the incident here tonight; it'd be a real help for them to contact the FTPD as soon as they can."
Officer Davis inwardly wince, completely understanding that Lieutenant Jones is trying to divert their attention from the most important question of all, but they'd know that the attempt is futile at best.
"But, Lieutenant Jones?" A female reporter that goes by the name Barbara Wilson speaks up, eyes narrowing in an inquiring light. "Surely that's not everything to it; how about the family that lives in the house; has anyone been injured; if the cause is still undetermined by the forensics, then do you have any idea what might've caused it instead?"
Almost everyone in the vicinity of the area turns to focus on Lieutenant Linda Jones of the Fairview Township Police Department; their gaze heavy and penetrating even as the woman in question stare at them back with stern dark eyes.
After a moment of silence, the lieutenant relents and finally begins to speak.
"I can tell all of you what I know at this point and time. But in turn, I want every last one of you to put a low tone on what you're going to write on those papers. I do not want the entire residents of Fairview Township go on a panic spree because of this. So here's the thing," The lieutenant continues, "The Peterson family resides in this house. But at the estimated time of 00:00, an explosion occurred and rocked the entire neighbourhood—there are no noted injuries amidst the family of seven; except for one. Hope Peterson were found near the edge of the forest, bloodied and severely injured for some unknown reasons—and no, they were not self-inficted. I believe that this might be caused by a second party."
"Can it be an act of terrorism, Lieutenant?" Another reporter speaks up; a male with a casual outfit of blue and red; a pen and a notepad in hand.
"Might be. But this is just my personal take on the matter. Unreliable at most, and speculation at best." She answers; turning to him before asserting eye contact with the others. "Not to mention that Fairview Township is a small community; unlike the other, much larger cities of Pennsylvania. So, it'd beg the question of why they choose a suburban house such as the one behind me and how did they manage to infiltrate such a small residential housing without alerting its occupants and its neighbors."
"But can it be assumed that the Peterson family might've connection with unwanted people that they target the child in return?" The inquiry came from a woman no more than twenty years of age; big brown eyes eager for a scoop that'd bring her to the top of the food chain. Something that Lieutenant Linda Jones abhors to come across.
So the blank, calculative eyes descend on the woman is a given. Chilling silence overwhelms the horde of medias as Lieutenant Jones remains stoic as her gaze never strays from the woman standing before her. It causes the woman to take a step back and gulp in unease at the unwavering stare.
"What's your name?" She asks out of the blue. The others glance at each other in confusion at the question, not noticing that the three officers subtly inch away from the ticking time bomb that is the ranked officer in their department.
The woman stumbles in her words as she answers, "Moore, Elizabeth Moore. Uh, ma'am." She adds in afterthought; not liking the way the lieutenant's gaze piercing through her similar to a sharp syringe.
"Alright, Miss Moore." Lieutenant Jones begins, "In the world of journalism, I think you'd learn that there's two types of story you'd want to write on the news." Her eyes narrow almost dangerously at the so-called female reporter. "One is a story true to its facts and common speculations. Something that can be made through the common sense and rationale. While the other; is a story that is filled with baseless rumors and accusations. Simply put; utter bullshit."
Elizabeth flinches at the clear reprimand of the older woman's voice.
"I think everyone in the area can attest to anyone asking that the Peterson is a close-knit family; father is an office worker, mother is a housewife, sons are either into sports or technical skills that requires them to fix the house if any repairs are needed to be done; daughters are the youngest whom is just a toddler at best and the eldest being the victim of this unfortunate incident." Lieutenant Jones practically emphasizes the last words; gaze finally breaking to stare at the others.
"I think there's that. Interviews over. We have our jobs to finish and you have yours. Any further questions will have to wait until we get a clear look on the situation as a whole. Any further insistent inquiries would be dealth with accordingly. Thank you for your time. If you'll excuse me." Lieutenant Jones nods her head towards two more officers nearby and they move to add more force in the flank.
She ignores the call for her name and continues to walk towards the scene of the crime. Stopping at the opened front door of the house, with the forensics team littering about and carrying out their respective duties in gathering the evidence, Lieutenant Linda Jones takes a deep breath before exhaling; one step passes the entrance with a thought in mind, "What the hell happened here?"
Notes: I might have some terms and facts wrong. But, please bear in mind. This is a fan fiction story. With equally fictional plot. Blame nothing other than the over-imaginative workings of my mind. There's a lot of plot bunnies in there. On another unrelated note, I'm actually suppressing them as you read this. Hooray for DENIAL!