Terlingua, Texas.

ONE

Terlingua, Texas - 2nd May 1984

Time has a funny habit of moving deceptively slowly in situations like these. The long hand of the clock, tired of all its years going round, now bounced continually on the three-digit. Its partner had long given up on moving at all. Ada understood.

She had sat herself down on the wooden chair for the last half hour, the small splinters catching on her skirt with each movement. The woman, Mary, who sat sullenly behind the desk looked up – then back down. Ada couldn't bring herself to ask what the delay was, she feared that would be impolite, so she decided to walk out instead and come back another time.

But, once again, time decides to move when you decide to give up.

The door swung open with a whining creak and Ada looked up at the face she had been hoping for. Mr Simms (the towns only residing detective) set his copper eyes upon the young woman in the waiting room. His whiskey fuelled brain cells worked tirelessly to form a name – and they did, eventually.

"Ah, Ms Atkins. I've been told you're after me." He said slowly, desperately not to slur his words.

Ada straightened herself up and took a step forward, the scent of stale booze making itself known.

"That's right Mr Simms, I hoped you'd arrive sooner." She frowned and quickly glanced at his ruffled state.

"Well, it's a busy time around here. What can I help you with, darlin'" he asked and sent her a flash of his coffee-stained teeth. Internally, she sighed. There is no such thing as 'busy' in a town like this.

"I want to make a complaint. About one of your officers."

With this, Mr Simms shot up like a bolt and straightened his crooked tie. If that was an attempt to show how seriously this matter was, the long delay pissed all over it.

"And why's that?" he asked slowly, shooting a quick look at Mary, who was watching intently.

Ada coughed slightly and formed the words in her head. It was a habit most people acquired – plan out a sentence in times of nervousness.

"What you'd call inappropriate behaviour, Mr Simms. Remarks etc." her voice trailed off at the end and she hoped the Detective would understand what 'inappropriate behaviour' entailed.

He paused for a moment, looked at Mary again, and then asked Ada into his office.

...

"Let me get this straight." The Detective started, pointing his chubby finger at Ada, "Mr Woods made crude remarks about you at the bar on Saturday evening, then followed you to your house and continued to make unwanted advances. Is that right so far?"

She nodded her head slightly and her fingers tightened around her cotton skirt, almost painfully.

"Okay, and the only thing that put him off is when you said your partner was waiting indoors. Which is a lie, Ms Atkins."

"Yes, it was, but it says a lot. How comes I have to mention there's another man for him to back off? I told him quite clearly, I wasn't interested. He's a police officer, for god's sake." Ada exasperated and unfurled her hand from her lap.

"I understand darlin' but don't forget he had been drinking. And you're not bad looking, I dare say." He smirked and took his time to admire her cream blouse.

"I rather you didn't" she quipped, "Look, are you going to make this police report or not?"

He pushed his hefty shoulders back into the leather chair and clasped his hands together. It wasn't clear whether he was thinking, or wanted Ada to believe he was. She eyed him with irritation and didn't bother to conceal it. The police report wasn't just about the officer in question, it was also a way to stop him from doing it to other women. 'No' is lost in translation for some people.

"I'll have to think about it, miss. We don't want people to look badly at us, I'm sure you understand. I should probably have a word with him instead." Mr Simms said slowly, almost in a patronising manner.

Ada rose from her seat quickly and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. The Detective was a joke. A shit one, at best.

"I won't bother thanking you." She murmured and left the office, closing the door loudly.