Mr. Munson was kind.
And his kindness wasn't from fake smiles and reassurances, or pleasantries that left little earthquakes in your stomach. His kindness and compassion was the raggedy old blanket over her shoulders, a cup of black coffee, and a simple silence demanding no explanation, conversation, or anything from the girl.
The cops were half way to the trailer by the time Eddie's uncle arrived and Joan had finally got the power to push herself out of the suffocating scene when she ran straight into the man's arms.
It must have been a sight to see.
A random teenage girl running out of your home in near hysterics and a body behind her in the middle of your living room. It took him seconds to process the situation and only a second longer to push the unknown teen out onto the bench and return with a blanket.
He had seen his fair share of bodies and more.
Joan apologized and tried to explain, but what was there to explain? She walked in on... Chrissy's body after she was with the guy's nephew. But there was something that screamed supernatural from the random onslaught of dizziness before she even left her car to the inhumane way Chrissy's body laid.
Chrissy was supposed to be different. She wasn't supposed to die. Joan had finally come to terms with letting in a new friend, but suddenly...
"And can you tell me why you were at the Munson trailer?"
"What?" Joan snapped back out of her head and fidgeted on the bench at the two offers sitting in front of her. She shook her head. "Y-yeah, uh Chrissy... she asked me to pick her up after I dropped off my brother and his, uh, friends."
Chief Powell was no different from his son who would one day follow in his footsteps as Officer Powell - fondly referred to as Junior by the town - who would pull a gun on Joan Destiny for breaking and entering... because the third in the line of Powells was a dick and deserved it...would deserve it?
The Powells were straight to the point after jokes were aside, but had a presence that could calm anyone boarding mania. He was obviously new to the role, but these must have been some of the defining moments that led him to being the chief of police that everyone respected in the future.
"Why would she ask you to do that?"
"Because she wanted to talk to Eddie and Eddie drove her here." She really didn't want to make Chrissy seem like a drug addict... and part of her didn't want Eddie implicated in this but... she just didn't understand. "I-I offered to drive or come with but she... didn't want to be a nuisance... I guess she felt like a burden."
"And what was the relation between the Munson-boy and Miss Cunningham?"
Even though Joan knew all points pointed to Eddie being nefariously involved, something about the way the officer gave respectful title to Chrissy and not to Eddie made her lips frown.
"Friends." There was a pause and Officer Callahan raised an eyebrow as if he expected more. Joan swallowed down the Henderson-curse desire to over explain like she so wanted to do, but she remembered Uncle Lucas' advice on the law.
Don't give out more than required.
"...Okay, and were they... together or?"
"No." Her leg shook and she bit her cheek because no they weren't but mentioning that she had a boyfriend would make the two seem like they were having an affair that went sideways.
The partnered duo of chief and officer stared at her doubtfully and Joan gave nothing more, allowing the awkward silence generated to fester.
The questions continued and her coffee got cold. She didn't drink coffee anyways, but the warmth was something she found herself missing along with the presence of Mr. Munson - whom she didn't even know his first name.
"And what is your relationship with Miss Cunningham?" Chief Powell liked to stare with a pressure to answer the questions while Officer Callahan wrote intentionally loud on a scratchy note pad. It was quite amazing the intentional interrogative atmosphere they created together. "We're you both on good terms?
"Chrissy i-is... was a good friend of mine and my cheer captain. We, uh... go to sleepovers, hang out, we've been pretty close I guess." Joan swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to force the flash of bloody eyes and twisted body out of her head. "S-she knew she could ask me for a ride or whatever and, trusted me with that."
"What about Munson?"
"Excuse me?" That was probably her first mistake. The surprise at being asked about Eddie and her's relationship had both officers pausing because it was so obvious something was there between the two. "I-I mean, Eddie and I... we used to..."
Hang out? Be friends? Laugh together? Eat food? Stand each other?
How much could she lie without self-implicating herself with suspicion? Being associated with the drug dealer could cause a bad image if their previous relationship got out... but lying could get her in trouble.
But didn't she lie every day about what really happened to Heather and her family?
"...I used to be friends with him over the summer." Joan admitted with a sigh while drumming her fingers in the bench. "He taught me how to play guitar and I... sang in his band."
"Uh huh, past tense?"
"We had a falling out because of some stupid drama. So we turned to insulting each other at school and keeping our distance."
Another pause and a change of subject made Joan's shoulders relax for only a moment before the stress of what just happened was thrown back to her. She recounted her events of feeling dizzy, but instead of her weird twin following her Joan quickly fabricated a lie that a nearby camp fire sent her into a panic attack - because she was at the mall when the fire happened - and the mention of the previous trauma sent both officers in a softer disposition.
When she tried to escape the panic by entering the front door, she saw... Chrissy.
No Eddie.
No van.
No sign of him anywhere.
The police asked a few more questions and would eventually be able to somehow prove that she had no hand in it - Joan was pretty sure being a middle class white teenaged girl had a lot to do with it - and Joan would be forced to wait in the cold for hours.
She dodged the media with claims of being a minor without her parents - where were her parents?! - and as time went on more and more people appeared at the outskirts of the scene. It was maddening.
"Oi, is it true that you saw Munson hang the girl?!"
"Tell us, was she dead already? Did she kill herself?"
"Was she buying drugs or selling them?!"
"Was she sleeping-?!"
Joan angrily picked up a stone from nearby and threw it at the reporter who tried to insinuate the relationship between Chrissy and Eddie. She would not have Chrissy's name get dragged through the mud! The rock hit the man's hand and he hissed, staring in disbelief at the rage filled teen behind the line.
"That's my final warning! Leave me the fuck alone or my fist will be in your face next!" Joan raised her right threateningly, hoping that her appearance was as crazy as she felt because she wanted them to leave her alone. But when they didn't, Joan picked up another stone and went to throw it again but was stopped.
Mr. Munson once again extended his kindness by carefully leading the teen back to the picnic bench nearby. He sat her down on the seat facing away from the horde of curious humans, readjusted the blanket around her shoulders, and sat down quietly on the table top with an air of closed conversation.
They didn't speak to each other and Joan relaxed even as the man pulled out a cigarette. Eventually the noise of the crowd faded and Joan was able to take a nap, exhausted. That was until Nancy Wheeler sat across from her with a face of concern and confusion.
Joan had found Chrissy around midnight, Mr. Munson had come 10 minutes after, and the police 5 after that. By the time the crime scene was set up in the small town it had be dawn, the media came around 8, and the body wasn't transported out until 8:30 in the morning. It was now 10:00 am and Joan was tired.
Which was why the moment Nancy asked if she was okay Joan threw her arms around the familiar face and Nancy wasted no time in gifting the attention needed. She tried to draw out whatever comfort she could, squeezing and probably babbling to the girl apparently she had once bullied. She was cried out, but worn all the same.
Eventually she calmed down and Nancy sat Joan down at the bench, but Joan clutched Nancy's hands like a lifeline. She felt like a baby, but... she needed someone and no one was there for her beside the quiet man whose closest family is steps away from being accused of murder.
"Joan, I didn't realize you were the one who..." Nancy trailed off, not wanting to say it but Joan nodded slowly feeing absolutely worn out. "Can you... can you tell me what happened?"
Joan opened her mouth to speak, to pour out her misery, but stopped. She hesitated and looked over at Mr. Munson who was on his fourth cigarette and staring hauntingly at nothing.
"...I don't know if it's my place to tell." Joan said instead looking back at the brunette and gave a final squeeze before letting go. "It's... it's not real and I don't know if it would be fair..."
Nancy took the hint and looked towards the man, explaining her position and what she was intending to do. Joan wasn't sure if she really wanted to write for a paper or if Nancy's desire to uncover the truth was what drove her here... both were probably true.
"M-Mr. Munson." Joan interrupted when the man didn't seem sold on Nancy's product. "Nancy... is a friend and so... so was Eddie." She winced at the small cock of an eyebrow from the man. "At some points." She amended. "He used to come and help me tune my piano and taught me how to play guitar."
"...So you were that girl he was talkin' about."
"...I guess?" Joan replied weakly, rubbing her face with her hands as a headache started to bloom. "I... we had a falling out, but I-I don't think Eddie would ever be capable of...that." He was silent, not answering as he pondered over the words and Joan wondered if being that girl wasn't a good thing. "Nancy, I trust her. She'll tell the truth and even if ten people know the truth that would be..." she trailed off unable to find the words.
Honestly, she wasn't sure what to believe but there were contradictory events and facts that just weren't adding up. If Joan hadn't been at the mall this summer, she would have believed it was Eddie who murdered Chrissy. But now her mind was open...
And she wasn't sure if knowledge was power or a curse.
When Wayne spoke about Eddie, Joan couldn't help but to remember the times when they were friends and the days when they were... almost something more. The school year had been long and short, filled with moments that Joan would both forget and treasure forever... some of the memories had already been forgotten but others were immortalized in a Polaroid.
Like the photo in her glovebox of a metalhead shoving his head into frame, hands on her shoulders and chin on the crown of her head, with a grin as mischievous and alluring as the moon. His eyes were closed but her eyes were trying to look up at the boy, the corners crinkled with the soft smile on her face.
But how could she forget their friendship the sequel followed by the return of the falling out?