Monday, August 3, 2015

Piecemeal Terror - Pt 3

Dedicated to Silent Hills. Kojima, Del Toro, Reedus
“This is special detective Bordeaux. She’ll be conducting the interview alongside me today.”   
“What’s happening? Why am I here?”
 “State for the record your full name and current occupation?”
“Please, Why are you doing this? Where is he?”
“I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”
There’s a pause in the recording.
“My name is Francine Dwyer and I’m an officer at the Central Police Station.”
“Francine, can I call you Francine?”
“Dwyer then. As my friend here stated, I am special detective Emile Bordeaux. Can you confirm that you recently visited a crime scene with Detective Simon Argent on the third of July 2012?”
“Answer the question Dwyer.”
“Now, now, Harley, we’re in no rush here. Dwyer take your time.”
“Please. Where is he?”
The recording again becomes quiet, a soft sniffling noise barely coming through.
“Yes what?”
“Yes I visited the crime scene of case number 35679-F with Detective Simon Argent on the third of July 2012. Now please, I’m begging you, is he okay? Just tell me that! Please!”
There’s a pause.
“Offficer Dwyer, the detective was found last night. He was rushed to the ICU,”
“Please, no, he was right there! I swear it! I just rounded the corridor and then he was gone! But he should have been right there!”
“Officer Dwyer do we need to give you a moment to calm yourself before we continue?”
“Excuse us. Harley? A moment please.”
There is the sound of shuffling as two people leave the room. Sobbing comes through, cracked and indistinct, muffled words too unclear to be deciphered. After two minutes, the sound of a door opening can be heard, the investigators taking their seats again.
“The interview is suspended. Time is 15:37 on the tenth of July 2012.”
There’s a click as the interview comes to a brief end. As it starts up again the first few words are lost.
“… … 17:53 on the tenth of July 2012.”
“Can you confirm that you are Officer Francine Dwyer of the Central Police Station?”
“And you worked with Detective Simon Argent?”
“You were the last reported person to have seen him, can you please confirm that for the record?”
“That is correct.”
“I’m going to be handing over the questioning to special detective Emile Bordeaux.”
“Thank you Harley. Are you alright to continue Officer Dwyer?”
“Officer Dwyer what was your relationship to Detective Argent?”
“I was his partner.”
“For how long?”
“We had been partnered for,” there’s a pause, as the respondent blows her nose, “nearly six months.”
“Why were you at the crime scene?”
Dwyer sighs, “We weren’t getting any information from the suspect. We had been interrogating him for days and all he did was repeat numbers over and over again. We thought maybe we could, I don’t know, find something! Anything!”
“The numbers 924586?”
“I think…”
“Can you confirm this?”
The tape winds itself off.

Bordeaux leaned back into her chair, arms crossed as she considered the distraught officer, frantically glancing about.
  “What’s going on?” Exhaustion had hit the weight of her partner’s death weighing down upon her. Bordeaux tapped her pale lips with a manicured finger, “This is off the record naturally. When we found Detective Argent he was repeating those numbers over and over again.”
“His left eye was missing,”
“There was a deep cut to his abdomen,”
“What!?” Tears poured down the officer’s drawn face, eyes distraught at the new information.
“Before we found the detective the suspect of case 35679-F did indeed begin to talk. Harley the transcript please,” 
“No, no.” Harley begins, voice monotonous.
“Please god, I’m sorry. Whatever it is I’m sorry. Please, where is she? What did you do to her?”
“Where’s Dwyer? No, no, no, no…” 
“Stop! Please...” Dwyer’s arms encased her head as she sobbed bitterly, her body shaking at what were potentially the last words she would ever hear Simon say. He was terrified! Yet at the end of it all, he had been, as he always had, looking out for her. 
“What do you want from me?!”
“You.” Bordeaux’ voice lowered.
“I need you because you are the last lead we have in this case.”
“You’re going back into the field Dwyer,” Harley slapped a manila folder in front of her yet there was no case number.
“Dwyer, you have no real choice in this. You’re going to have to get yourself together because till further notice, you’re assigned to special investigations.”
“And what is it you’re investigating tell me?”
“Well for starters,” Bordeaux smiled, “We’re going to find out what those numbers mean.”

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