A Victim's Diary

16

My clothes still smell like you
And all the photographs say you're still young

Alistair had not been looking forward to this. He had not been looking forward to confronting Ruby's father with the evidence that they had gathered. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation and Alistair knew it would take a lot of patience for him not to jump at his throat. He had barely been able to sleep all night, because the interview was living rent-free in his head. He was on his third coffee for the day when Greg Daniels came into the station and was brought to the interrogation room.

Alistair was taking his time with him. He was in absolutely no rush to get this interview done. The only thing that was motivating him was that he could go and visit Frances this evening. Alistair wasn't sure whether he could call her his best friend or not. Somehow it felt strange to call her that, mainly because she was so young and because she was also so odd sometimes. But also, they were working together.

It somehow just didn't sit right with him to be call Frances his best friend. It felt like he'd be overstepping some unspoken border. Plus, they only really saw each other at work or work-related events. So could he really call her a friend? Alistair wasn't sure. Either way, he did enjoy her company, no matter how much she annoyed him sometimes. And she was the closest thing to a friend he had (besides Diana, that was, but he wasn't sure whether Diana counted, either). The end of it was that he much preferred spending time in Frances' little cabinet of horrors than interrogating Ruby's father about how he had been abusing her for years and how he had gotten her pregnant.

But he knew that he would have to talk to him. He had to ask all the uncomfortable questions, he had to listen to him lying and then talk to him about his perverse ideas and philosophies. It was always the same. Those men were living under some kind of delusion that their victims loved them, actually, that they were asking for it, that they were way more mature than they seemed – it was all wrong.

Alistair had heard it all more often than he liked to remember. Every time he had to hear it again he wanted to take his brain out of his head and soak it in bleach to get rid of any trace of memory about these interrogations, all these stupid lies. It was disgusting and it was horrifying and Alistair wouldn't touch any of that with a ten foot pole if he didn't have to, but this was also part of his job and someone had to make sure these people got locked away before they could do even more damage than they had already done.

He took another deep breath and looked over his notes once again. He would have gotten himself his fourth cup of coffee, if he didn't still have the third full cup of coffee right in front of him. Maybe it was time to get this all over with. He could see that Greg Daniels was getting a little nervous, waiting for such a long time for him. He was probably wondering why he had gotten called back in for more questioning. And Alistair was sure that he knew exactly what he had done wrong – he knew what was at stake.

After another deep breath, Alistair gathered up his notes and made his way down to the interrogation room. He wanted to have some time between this ordeal and seeing Frances in the morgue to calm down and relax. Maybe read some more of Ruby's diary, if he thought that he could stomach it. But first he had to get this done. Maybe there wasn't even any need to do anything else afterwards.

Alistair opened the door and sat down opposite Greg. He could barely look him in the eyes, but when he looked up at him, he wanted to punch him in the face for wearing such a cocksure grin. He should be crawling on the floor in shame and embarrassment, not acting as If he was the king of the world.

"Good morning, Mr. Daniels. I assume you know why you're here?" Alistair said to him. He was hoping to make him a little more insecure, but that didn't seem to be working. Greg just smiled and shook his head.