Officer Smith was in interrogation when Woody got to work the next day. It hit him like a ton of bricks, Officer Smith, the one from the pictures, those pictures hadn't meant a lot until now, and they were still waiting to be processed come to think of it.
"This is Officer Smith." Woody asked a black and white posted out front of the interrogation room.
"Yeah, he's a real charmer." The black and white stated mordantly, opening the heavy metal door open, allowing the young detective to walk threw. His feet felt like iron when he walked threw that threshold of that cold interrogation room; something wasn't right about this guy. Blonde hair and dishwater eyes, broad and big boned, defiantly not the kind of man you'd want to mess with.
"Good morning Officer Smith, I'm-"
"I know who you are Detective Hoyt." He said, taking a long drag off of his Marlboro cigarette. "Seen you on TV with that Cynthia Montgomery case."
"Okay, I have a couple of questions about Jennifer O'Brian." Woody barreled on; he didn't like to hear about that case, from anyone.
"Officer, were you and Miss O'Brian close?" Woody waited patiently as the tall officer took another drag off of his cigarette
"We dated for a few months before Officer Freedmen was murdered, she was real shaken up about that, they were friends."
"Did she ever talk about Allen Rodriguez or Chief Haralson?"
Suddenly the man's demeanor changed, he began to sweat, a look of anxiety and pressure entered his stormy eyes. "I can't talk about this anymore." With that he got up and stormed out. Woody was furious, it was like a bit of the puzzle was missing, only one piece, but without that piece the picture is never clear. Woody sat in the interrogation room, fuming, his hands crossed on the table in front of him, head down. Finally he got up quickly, grabbing the files off of the end of the table headed for the door.
Woody watched as Officer Smith got in his silver SUV, the man looked cocky, not the face of a man whose ex-lover was found murdered in a cheap hotel three blocks from the red light district.
Slowly, and every so carefully Woody followed keeping a safe distance from that silver truck. He had reached the end; this was it, the breaking point. He pulled out his gun, the sound of the metal as it slipped from the holster echoed in his mind, pounding in his skull, throbbing behind his eyes.
Buttery sunlight glistened off of the fresh snow that packed the sides of the sidewalk. Woody was sitting silently in his car, his mind racing, his nerves shot. He had barely slept in two days; he had no signs of slowing down either. His faded blue eyes stared at the picture in front of him, Officer Smith, sauntering into that sleazy motel like he owned it. It sickened Woody, all the corruption, greed had taken over the justice system, it was ironic that greed was what he was suppose to be keeping from the justice system. Slowly, he pulled the car from the ignition, gun hidden in his hand carefully, badge in the other, he caressed it, like it was the only thing keeping him real anymore, the only thing telling him that he was better than those scumbags.
"Hi" he told the receptionist idly, picking at a bit of worn paint on the partition. "Did an Officer Smith just come in here?" she looked at him as if he had two heads.
He held out his badge for inspection. "Detective Hoyt Boston PD." He announced himself "What room?" he demanded, his patience shot. She looked aprehinsive but pointed out room 213, he nodded in appreciation and walked towards the door...
"Officer Smith..." he whispered in a deathly calm voice, staring at the Officer stooped in the middle of the room "I have to know what happened, I know you called in sick on Tuesday, the day she was killed... why what was so important! What do you know?!" Woody's mind had snapped, three days, 72 hours with only four hours of sleep, twelve cups of coffee and half a jelly doughnut. Slowly and deliberately he raised his gun, and cocked it.
"Officer Smith, I have to know what happened... you know, you know the answers, you're the missing link." His hand shook slightly, but he kept a tight grip on the gun held out in front of him.
"Listen, anything I say can't be used in court, you have a gun to my head." Officer Smith reasoned, Woody had enough of reason, there was no rational reasons for anything anymore.
"Guess what Smith," Woody whispered, kneeling down to face the stout officer. "No one knows we 're here" he pressed he barrel of the gun against Smith's forehead, he was sweating now, looking in the stone blue eyes everyone in the force thought belonged to an amiable detective from Wisconsin, no these eyes were cold, heartless and mean.
"Jansen and Tandy had a deal with Shelton, they wanted her dead because she was testifying and because she was a liability, Freedmen gave her the files, go by her apartment... she'll have the files, everything that has to do with everyone... they met her at the T-Line, killed her there, then took her here, dumped her and made it look like she was the one dealing."
"How did they know that she was going to be at the T-Line?" Woody demanded, exhausted of the run around.
"Because I told them." The man whispered, lowering his cowardice, drab, gray eyes in fear and shame. Woody closed his eyes, it was all clear, now he had to get to her apartment before Tandy and Jansen, if that was possible.
"Why would you tell them?" Woody asked, swiftly regaining himself. "What did she hurt you that bad, when she left?" He was baffled at how this man just gave her away, like that.
"they told me... they told me they wouldn't hurt her." He stated like it was some consolation or Validation to his act.
"So, you just took a sick day off while they killed her, and kept your knowledge to yourself... she was twenty four, still a child with a life in front of her, she was someone's daughter, someone's best friend... she was a good kid." Woody got up to walk away, shaking his head self righteously, his frame towering over the cowering officer in the middle of the room.
==================================================================
"Jordan, Jordan!" Woody called out, looking around the well lit room in astonishment.
"Hey Wood. How do you like it?" she called from the other room. He was a little surprised to see Christmas lights and garlands, and one very drunk Santa on the porch.
"I love it! Honey get out here, what is all this?" he gave her a kiss on the cheek mixed with a confused glance
"I wanted you to have a Christmas like you would at home... you know the whole country Christmas thing." He chuckled.
"Well in Wisconsin we usually have sober Santa's, but this is B-E-A-Utiful sweetie." He stole a kiss before remembering himself. "I have something for you," He went out to the porch, retrieving four boxes from the porch, three of medium size and one that was large, she watched him as he set the perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree. He couldn't seem to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. "Those have to wait to open those... this one... you have to open now, or it will suffocate." He held out the largest box to her, like a little kid watching a parent open something they made, he watched her every move.
"Suffocate? You bought me something that breaths?" she asked quizzically, looking to him for answers.
"Well I didn't exactly buy it, I found it, it was lost and alone and it needed a friend."
She gasped when she saw the pup in the box, looking a little confused but happy as a clam, when it saw her, it yelped and wagged its tail.
"You got me a puppy?!" she asked already clutching to the wiggling mass of fur as if it were her child, speaking to it in hushed tones, stroking its head.
"Well I can't have a dog, and you need someone to talk to when I'm not here, something so I will be sure you won't run." He smiled as he watched Jordan, her hair falling in her cocoa eyes, in the baby blue low-cut sweater she looked as beautiful as the day he saw her in the Pouge in that barely there red dress "Now, get dressed, we're going out." He announced "I have somewhere very special to take you... you'll like it." She giggled as she ran into the other room to change, he smiled, he loved her more than anything. Images of that dream entered his empty mind, her colorless expression, he wanted it to stop all of it, he could hear her in the next room, it was like she wasn't there. He was on one side and she was on the other. He had brought her back to the side of the living and he promptly fell to the dark side.
"Hello? Wood?" she was standing in front of him, waving her hand in front of his eyes. "You okay Hun, you look, drawn." For the first time, he noticed she was dressed in a hunter green silk halter dress, stiletto heels, her toes were painted lilac, that was the first thing he noticed the beautiful shade of purple.
"Yeah, get your purse, lets go."
Footnote: I know I stopped a little short on the case, it will resume next chapter
"This is Officer Smith." Woody asked a black and white posted out front of the interrogation room.
"Yeah, he's a real charmer." The black and white stated mordantly, opening the heavy metal door open, allowing the young detective to walk threw. His feet felt like iron when he walked threw that threshold of that cold interrogation room; something wasn't right about this guy. Blonde hair and dishwater eyes, broad and big boned, defiantly not the kind of man you'd want to mess with.
"Good morning Officer Smith, I'm-"
"I know who you are Detective Hoyt." He said, taking a long drag off of his Marlboro cigarette. "Seen you on TV with that Cynthia Montgomery case."
"Okay, I have a couple of questions about Jennifer O'Brian." Woody barreled on; he didn't like to hear about that case, from anyone.
"Officer, were you and Miss O'Brian close?" Woody waited patiently as the tall officer took another drag off of his cigarette
"We dated for a few months before Officer Freedmen was murdered, she was real shaken up about that, they were friends."
"Did she ever talk about Allen Rodriguez or Chief Haralson?"
Suddenly the man's demeanor changed, he began to sweat, a look of anxiety and pressure entered his stormy eyes. "I can't talk about this anymore." With that he got up and stormed out. Woody was furious, it was like a bit of the puzzle was missing, only one piece, but without that piece the picture is never clear. Woody sat in the interrogation room, fuming, his hands crossed on the table in front of him, head down. Finally he got up quickly, grabbing the files off of the end of the table headed for the door.
Woody watched as Officer Smith got in his silver SUV, the man looked cocky, not the face of a man whose ex-lover was found murdered in a cheap hotel three blocks from the red light district.
Slowly, and every so carefully Woody followed keeping a safe distance from that silver truck. He had reached the end; this was it, the breaking point. He pulled out his gun, the sound of the metal as it slipped from the holster echoed in his mind, pounding in his skull, throbbing behind his eyes.
Buttery sunlight glistened off of the fresh snow that packed the sides of the sidewalk. Woody was sitting silently in his car, his mind racing, his nerves shot. He had barely slept in two days; he had no signs of slowing down either. His faded blue eyes stared at the picture in front of him, Officer Smith, sauntering into that sleazy motel like he owned it. It sickened Woody, all the corruption, greed had taken over the justice system, it was ironic that greed was what he was suppose to be keeping from the justice system. Slowly, he pulled the car from the ignition, gun hidden in his hand carefully, badge in the other, he caressed it, like it was the only thing keeping him real anymore, the only thing telling him that he was better than those scumbags.
"Hi" he told the receptionist idly, picking at a bit of worn paint on the partition. "Did an Officer Smith just come in here?" she looked at him as if he had two heads.
He held out his badge for inspection. "Detective Hoyt Boston PD." He announced himself "What room?" he demanded, his patience shot. She looked aprehinsive but pointed out room 213, he nodded in appreciation and walked towards the door...
"Officer Smith..." he whispered in a deathly calm voice, staring at the Officer stooped in the middle of the room "I have to know what happened, I know you called in sick on Tuesday, the day she was killed... why what was so important! What do you know?!" Woody's mind had snapped, three days, 72 hours with only four hours of sleep, twelve cups of coffee and half a jelly doughnut. Slowly and deliberately he raised his gun, and cocked it.
"Officer Smith, I have to know what happened... you know, you know the answers, you're the missing link." His hand shook slightly, but he kept a tight grip on the gun held out in front of him.
"Listen, anything I say can't be used in court, you have a gun to my head." Officer Smith reasoned, Woody had enough of reason, there was no rational reasons for anything anymore.
"Guess what Smith," Woody whispered, kneeling down to face the stout officer. "No one knows we 're here" he pressed he barrel of the gun against Smith's forehead, he was sweating now, looking in the stone blue eyes everyone in the force thought belonged to an amiable detective from Wisconsin, no these eyes were cold, heartless and mean.
"Jansen and Tandy had a deal with Shelton, they wanted her dead because she was testifying and because she was a liability, Freedmen gave her the files, go by her apartment... she'll have the files, everything that has to do with everyone... they met her at the T-Line, killed her there, then took her here, dumped her and made it look like she was the one dealing."
"How did they know that she was going to be at the T-Line?" Woody demanded, exhausted of the run around.
"Because I told them." The man whispered, lowering his cowardice, drab, gray eyes in fear and shame. Woody closed his eyes, it was all clear, now he had to get to her apartment before Tandy and Jansen, if that was possible.
"Why would you tell them?" Woody asked, swiftly regaining himself. "What did she hurt you that bad, when she left?" He was baffled at how this man just gave her away, like that.
"they told me... they told me they wouldn't hurt her." He stated like it was some consolation or Validation to his act.
"So, you just took a sick day off while they killed her, and kept your knowledge to yourself... she was twenty four, still a child with a life in front of her, she was someone's daughter, someone's best friend... she was a good kid." Woody got up to walk away, shaking his head self righteously, his frame towering over the cowering officer in the middle of the room.
==================================================================
"Jordan, Jordan!" Woody called out, looking around the well lit room in astonishment.
"Hey Wood. How do you like it?" she called from the other room. He was a little surprised to see Christmas lights and garlands, and one very drunk Santa on the porch.
"I love it! Honey get out here, what is all this?" he gave her a kiss on the cheek mixed with a confused glance
"I wanted you to have a Christmas like you would at home... you know the whole country Christmas thing." He chuckled.
"Well in Wisconsin we usually have sober Santa's, but this is B-E-A-Utiful sweetie." He stole a kiss before remembering himself. "I have something for you," He went out to the porch, retrieving four boxes from the porch, three of medium size and one that was large, she watched him as he set the perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree. He couldn't seem to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. "Those have to wait to open those... this one... you have to open now, or it will suffocate." He held out the largest box to her, like a little kid watching a parent open something they made, he watched her every move.
"Suffocate? You bought me something that breaths?" she asked quizzically, looking to him for answers.
"Well I didn't exactly buy it, I found it, it was lost and alone and it needed a friend."
She gasped when she saw the pup in the box, looking a little confused but happy as a clam, when it saw her, it yelped and wagged its tail.
"You got me a puppy?!" she asked already clutching to the wiggling mass of fur as if it were her child, speaking to it in hushed tones, stroking its head.
"Well I can't have a dog, and you need someone to talk to when I'm not here, something so I will be sure you won't run." He smiled as he watched Jordan, her hair falling in her cocoa eyes, in the baby blue low-cut sweater she looked as beautiful as the day he saw her in the Pouge in that barely there red dress "Now, get dressed, we're going out." He announced "I have somewhere very special to take you... you'll like it." She giggled as she ran into the other room to change, he smiled, he loved her more than anything. Images of that dream entered his empty mind, her colorless expression, he wanted it to stop all of it, he could hear her in the next room, it was like she wasn't there. He was on one side and she was on the other. He had brought her back to the side of the living and he promptly fell to the dark side.
"Hello? Wood?" she was standing in front of him, waving her hand in front of his eyes. "You okay Hun, you look, drawn." For the first time, he noticed she was dressed in a hunter green silk halter dress, stiletto heels, her toes were painted lilac, that was the first thing he noticed the beautiful shade of purple.
"Yeah, get your purse, lets go."
Footnote: I know I stopped a little short on the case, it will resume next chapter