So, erm. I've seen 'The Hunt' and my savior's complex just kicked in. Because it was unbearable to see how quickly it escalates, and how crazy those people are. Here's my take on what should have happened :p

I pursed my lips, looking at the man in front of me. Mid-length brown hair mingled with blond falling upon his brow, intense eyes – hazel – watching me like a hawk, sensual lips and sharp features. He should have been beautiful, had his distress not permeated the room.

Terrified, but not ashamed.

It didn't show on his face; the man had trouble expressing emotions. This, coupled with his almost non-existent eyebrows, probably set people on edge. The perfect culprit. The lack of readable expression always frightened people, because they didn't know what dwelt behind the façade.

But I did.

How convenient my gift was to question people. Being a medium had its perks. Aside from images and emotions, I could delve in anybody's head and extract memories, motives … anything that made them tick. An instant lie detector; I knew, within five minutes, whether the party was guilty or not. Where he hid his loot, whether he had a dissimulated bank account. I could sniff his darkest desires, retrieve the perfect memory of the killing blow, or any illegal action for that matter.

The most difficult was to prove it, scientifically. But when you knew where to search, it was easier to find the incriminating facts.

And what made this man tick – Lucas Madsen - really broke my heart. He was so tender-hearted, so devoted, so incredibly broken by the accusations thrown his way. He would remain, for years to come, my most difficult assignment.

Oh, I'd heard, and seen gruesome things. Being a medium was, sometimes, akin to a curse. I didn't only know what paedophiles did, I saw them, experienced them in my bones. I'd met victims, parents of their assaulted children. I'd seen despair tear youngsters apart, and sick men abuse them without a second thought. I'd seen … more than a woman should have in my ten years of career.

But this man's pain called to my heart so strongly that I felt like crying. Even if it was bottled inside, the crushing weight of his sadness hit me in waves. So strong, so overwhelming that I had to take a few breaths before I started the interrogation. I saw a gleam pass in his eyes, wonder, curiosity, fear?

- "You are aware, Mr Madsen, of the reasons you are here."

The man nodded.

- "What can you tell me about the accusations made by the kindergarten's director?"

- "I didn't do it. Whatever they are accusing me off, I didn't do any of it. I would never…"

His voice broke, and I frowned.

- "What do you mean? Do you not know exactly?"

- "They won't tell me a thing."

I bit my lip; things were starting to make sense. How could a man defend himself if he had no idea what he had supposedly done wrong? My first interview with Grethe, the kindergarten's director, had pointed many flaws in her handling of the crisis. I could understand it; people weren't used to facing such dire circumstances. Still … they did not realise what it meant to an innocent man.

Yes. Innocent. I had absolutely no doubt. Accusing Lucas Madsen of child abuse was akin to accusing a 2 year-old of murder. It just wasn't in his nature. I would, for sure, fish more details from his mind without his knowledge. It wasn't playing fair, but it would get the job done. The faster he was cleared, the less damage to his life.

Even though I knew I was too late already to save him the heartache. Damn that kindergarten director who had, unwillingly, spread the word already. Rumours, in small towns, could be difficult to handle.

- "Little Klara seems to have mentionned that she saw your penis in erection in the psychomotricity room"

Lucas' eyes widened slightly, and I couldn't help but remark how his eyes seemed golden in the artificial light. This single sentence held more information than he'd been given until now. What a pity!

- "As I told her father, she is lying", he stated.

I could see the stiffness of his spine, the attempt at steely resolve that miserably failed. Not that I wasn't swayed by his attempt, but the issue laide elsewhere. It wasn't a matter or truth or lies, but of fear. Would he hear me if I tried to explain ?

- "As you are probably aware, children this age don't have the same awareness we have when it comes to lies or truth", I started. "Their mind construction is more unstable than ours, and they always fear the disapproval of adults. Emotions can blur things; maybe Klara is not even aware of it being a lie. But she has used words that a girl her age should ignore. Hard-on and stiff penis."

Lucas paled two shades, and I could feel his concern in the air. His shoulders, now, had started shaking. Out of concern for the little girl.

- "How?"

I caught an image of Klara's wide eyes and blond locks in his mind, of them walking together on the side of the road. He felt … affection for that child. Fatherly affection that she lacked. How could people be so blind?

Reining in my anger, I trapped Lucas in my gaze, and told him seriously:

- "The interrogation was badly held, and it will be done again by competent people. If only to put Klara at ease with the mess that surrounds her. But those notions scream of abuse. Where could she have heard, or seen that?"

The man leant forward, wringing his hands together with a painful grimace.

- "I don't know, officer," he stuttered.

I could feel his breaking point coming, and decided to give the poor man a break. I stood from my chair, and gave him a gentle look.

- "Mr Madsen. I'll get some coffee, and in the meantime, think about everything you can tell me about Klara. Her background, your relationship with her, and how she came across those adults notions."

The man blinked, the deflated on his chair, defeated. I left, heels clicking on the floor. I wouldn't be surprised in Lucas Madsen had a fit of crying while I took my time making a fresh batch of coffee. My heart went out to him; the world was unfair. I'd treated so many cases of real abuse than seeing such a gentle soul being taken apart by rumours called my anger. Determination set in; I would do my best to restore the truth. Starting by finding who, actually, had shattered the innocence of that child.

I returned five minutes later, and handed the man a mug of warm coffee. A spark of gratitude passed in his eyes as I sat at my desk again. He took a sip of the warm brew, and his features relaxed. Good; I didn't master the art so well so expected it to be bad.

- "No coffee for you?" he suddenly asked, seeing my hands empty.

I shrugged, touched that he would, even now, be thoughtful.

- "I hate coffee"

Lucas watched me intently, his hazel eyes carefully hidden below the loose bangs that framed his face. Probably wondering why I was being nice to him. I schooled my expression, extracting a heart shaped token – ironing pearls – out of my drawer; the item was given to me by Grethe, the kindergarten director.

- "So. Does this ring a bell?"

Suddenly, Lucas' face brightened in realisation. He'd just made a connection, and I stole the scene for him easily enough. Memories triggered by emotions were always the easiest to catch. I watched as Klara, the blond kid, rushed to kiss him on the lips. I caught a glimpse of his gentle scolding as he gave the heart shaped token back to her, spotted her utter dejection…

I had to refrain from smiling. This was getting somewhere. I steered my questions easily enough to get the big picture written down.

- "So… Klara had a crush on you, and you rejected her gently. Then, the same evening, she spoke of having seen your penis."

- "Yes. Yes … how did I not see it before? She was just angry with me."

He'd caught on rapidly, but I couldn't give him too much hope. And too much information on why I believed him so easily. And there was still an issue in this equation…

- "Possibly. But it doesn't explain how she knows about what an erection is…"

The man facing me sobered instantly and I hid my disappointment. The hope I had instilled was mercilessly crushed at the idea of abuse upon this little girl he loved so much. And he wasn't out of the woods yet. So I did what I knew best, and dug deeper.

- "Could it be from a stranger in the street?"

His eyes got distant, fixed on the window behind me.

- "It is possible. I find her quite often by herself in the streets. But we don't have many strangers here."

- "Her parents, perhaps? She might have walked on them in the act?"

This time, he shook his head vehemently.

- "Her father is…"

He paused, his tongue darting over his upper lip.

- "Yes?"

- "He was my best friend. He's pretty careful about those things."

Darn. With the past tense swelled so many emotions within him that I struggled to keep myself afloat. I'd never been hit with such deep feelings when questioning a child abuser; they were usually much crazier. And cold.

- "Cousins? Siblings?" I chanced.

- "We are a pretty tight community, you know. The children play together so often, I couldn't tell… She has an older brother, a teenager. Perhaps a friend ?"

That didn't help much, but it was a lead I could follow. If Klara was in contact with teenagers often enough, she might have heard those words … the issue was that she had used them in context, understanding the meaning. Or so Grethe and her so-called child investigator said. I needed another's take on this, and I just knew who to call to get it done properly.

- "All right, Mr Madsen. I'll look into it"

- "Do you have any idea when …?"

I shook my head.

- "I don't know, sir, I'm sorry. I know it must be difficult for you, but I need facts to give my conclusions. Both of you may be victims, or just one of you. I cannot afford to rush and be wrong."

The man seated before me nodded solemnly; he understood the weight upon my shoulders.

- "I understand. I just … miss my son."

My eyebrows knitted; why would he not see his son? Did he live far away?

- "Can he not visit?", I asked.

The façade cracked, muscles turning into a grimace when his voice broke.

- "I … his mother forbid him to…"

Horrified, I watched as tears started falling down his cheek. That man was desperate, and there was nothing I could do, for now.

- "I was just about to get him back," he whispered.

Damn, his pain was so stifling that my chest constricted.

- "What happened?"

A rictus of anger twisted the sides of Lucas' mouth.

- "The director called my wife, she doesn't want me to see my son anymore."

Deep, frightening anger swelled in the pit of my stomach. The more I dug into this affair, the less I liked this kindergarten director. She thought she was protecting her children, but what right did she have to throw this man to the hounds? She could have pushed him to suicide with such moves!

- "This is not the right procedure. I'll make sure to speak to her. And I will see your ex-wife and your son as well."

Wide, doe eyes peeked at me under the fringe. Incredulous.

- "You will?"

- "Yes, for questioning. She's the one that knows you best, after all. I can probably talk to her and remind her of her duties in the meantime"

Tears turned into a river, and I watched, helpless, as the man before me crumbled. His hand covered his face when he started sobbing. His grief was escaping the tight lid, and it hit me full force. I had to bit my tongue to refrain from crying like a baby.

At last, Lucas Madsen sniffed, and I handed him a tissue over my desk.

- "I'm sorry…"

I shook my head, careful not to stare while he dabbed his face; giving him a little privacy.

- "You are allowed to cry, sir. I understand how this situation is difficult for you. I will make light on this, trust me."

- "I do"

His smooth voice, like a caress, caused me to freeze. This stranger, accused of the most despicable of crimes, handed me his trust without flinching. Wow. I had to return the favour, somehow, and let him know he wasn't alone in this struggle.

- "For what's it's worth, I believe you."

His eyes, red rimmed, widened slightly. I was probably the first one to tell him so. And from what I had seen until now, it didn't even occur to me that I might be wrong. I was probably going to lose sleep on this case. I was glad the kids were at their grandparents this week; I would need all my wits.

Lucas Madsen left my office ten minutes later, and I jumped on the phone.

- "Hey, Denise? I need a favour"