The Dark Places by R. Whitfield (novel24 TXT) 📕

Surin immediately followed him, noticing the tension in his stride. She entered the kitchen as he was trying, with shaky hands, to grab a teabag out of the cupboard. Several bags fell out of the packet and floated down onto the tiled floor. Surin ignored them.

“Den, you all good with this one?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t be offended by her offer of help. Sometimes female victims liked to deal with female cops — it was something most male detectives understood and occasionally used to their advantage. Dennis turned and looked at Surin. His eyes were wild with anger, and she could see his hands visibly shaking, and he clenched and unclenched his jaw as he stared at her face.

“Dennis,” she cautioned, lowering the tone of her voice in a warning. She needed him to calm himself and not fly off the handle. He had, a few times of late, especially in cases involving children, and his conduct had been questioned.

“This one, Surin, this one I just… I know we see some fucked up shit, and the worst part is that this isn’t even close to the most terrible case I have handled, but it’s getting to me, day by day it’s wearing me down.” He placed both of his hands on the kitchen bench and dropped his head. Surin stood next to him, not touching and not saying a word, just being there.

They all have days like this, a lot of them. No one understood, no one but the person who was standing beside you when you watched a baby being pulled out of a washing machine or when a wife is killed after the tenth call out for domestic violence. That was why the family thing just didn’t work. You don’t want to go home and look at your children knowing that a ten-year-old was just raped by his mother’s boyfriend, and then your husband says, “How was your day, dear?” It’s the same reason doctors marry doctors, and cops stick to cops. No one else will ever truly understand. So, Surin just stood there listening as Dennis took some deep breaths and calmed himself down.

“I’ll interview her with Parker and put the report on your desk,” she stated matter-of-factly. Dennis looked up, silently nodded and Surin walked out of the room.

She approached Parker, who was sitting at his desk typing up the incident report regarding this morning’s call out. “We’re up,” she said, and with that, he stood and gathered his notebook.

Surin walked over to Dennis’s desk and squatted beside the young girl. “Hi there, my name’s Surin, and this is Parker,” she said, gesturing to Parker who had kept his distance. “Can we ask you a few questions?”

The girl stared back, her eyes slightly glazed, she turned around looking for Dennis.

“It’s Kealy, right?” Surin asked.

The girl looked back, nodded and pulled the blanket tighter around her small frame.

“See that room over there, Kealy?” She motioned towards interview one. “We’re going to pop in there, close the door, and get you away from all this noise. How does that sound?”

The girl nodded again, and Surin helped her stand up. They walked hand in hand over to the door. Parker opened it and helped Kealy sit down once again. Surin gently closed the door behind her. Instantly the room became quiet, and she could see Kealy visibly relax. Parker sat in the furthest chair from the table, which was smart, Surin thought. He was a big man in stature, and his presence may seem intimidating to a small girl. He kept his distance which made him appear non-threatening. Surin sat close and hoped that Parker was taking notes.

“So, Kealy, what grade are you in?” Surin started.

The question seemed to catch the girl off guard. “Oh, um, grade eight.” She looked at Surin perplexed, her voice hoarse from crying.

“Wow, that makes you a teenager, right?” Surin continued, trying to make the girl feel comfortable in her presence.

“I just turned thirteen last month. We had a party at the ice-skating rink near my home — it was awesome,” she replied. A small smile breached her lips but was gone so swiftly that Surin thought she might have imagined it.

The silence stretched out between them, and Kealy’s eyes dropped to her shaking hands, and she clasped them together quickly.

“Kealy, when you’re ready, tell us as much or as little as you want about what happened tonight. There’s no rush, there’s nowhere else we need to be, OK?” Surin sat back in her chair and waited.

“There were three of them,” Kealy whispered, her eyes growing wide. “I-I thought they were my friends.” Tears began to stream down her swollen cheeks. “You can’t tell my dad! This is all my fault,” she yelled and buried her head in her arms.

Surin watched the girl weep. Her life was never going to be the same.

“This is not your fault, Kealy, not for one second,” she said quietly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, it is!” she replied. “I got in the car with them! I didn’t say anything when they missed the turnoff to my house, or when they gave me some wine. I just sat there, thinking I must be pretty cool getting to hang out with these guys.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Then Clint put his hand on my leg, I didn’t move, not an inch. I haven’t even really held hands with a guy before, so it kinda freaked me out. He moved his away after a while, and I breathed, thinking that wasn’t so bad.”

“Where were you all?” Surin asked casually.

“We hung out for a bit at someone’s house, kinda like a party, I guess. After a while, everyone else left, and it was just them and me. I asked Pete to drop me home. I knew it