Secrets Of The Guilty [Nanowrimo 2019]

ONE

Eli Marlow steps out of her car just shy of the blockade, the street sectioned off by police cruisers, the light bars on top of them casting shadows across the manicured lawn. Each of the cars has its doors pulled open. Officers crouch against them, backs to the house, loading their firearms.

Sliding under the yellow tape, Eli pulls the phone from her ear tucking the thing into her coat pocket. The air outside unseasonably cold for early September. Three unmarked cars are parked on the grass, flanked by two officers and a woman in heavy kevlar.

One of the officers notices the lanyard hanging from her neck, her lack of a badge. He steps forward to stop her from coming further into the active scene but he's waved off at the last second, by the man who called Eli here. The tall, sharp edges face of the man focuses in the dark. The strobing of the reds and blues flash across his square nose.

The star at his chest details his rank well enough. Lead detective Alex Tanner.

Dark circles ring around his eyes like he hasn't been to bed yet. A long shift turned into an even longer one.

"Thank you for coming," he says.

"How bad is it?" The detective simply nods. The action is answered enough. Her fingers start to itch wanting to curl around the neck of the bottle maybe if she was lucky the end of a smoke. Not five minutes out of the car and she could feel the sting of the cold in her toes.

"Have you ever done anything like this? Been coached beyond interrogation and interview techniques?" The sirens start up again, a new wave of emergency vehicles dot the other end of the street. A flash or two out of rhythm from the lights telling her the media press has arrived. Detective Tanner pulls aside an officer asking about the perimeter from the back.

"I've interviewed politicians how different can it be?" That catches his lips, turning the corner in.

"First interaction was six-forty-eight. We made contact with him after a neighbour called in hearing gunshots."

He breathes into his hands, rubbing them together as he leads her to a group of people standing in the floodlights next to a bulletproof control van. All sleek black. Tinted windows. Heater on full. Tanner knocks his knuckles against the side of the command. One of the people straightens as we round the side of it.

Eli steps slightly to the right, into the little heat there was being thrown into the night.

"Roughen, how we doin'?"

"Ready. We have a team at the back watching the neighbouring houses and his activity. She the reporter?" Roughen asks. Tanner turns to face him, flashing him a smile.

"Yes, she is." Eli said, moving past the guy to stare into the camera feed. Tanner keeps his eyes on her, assessing his team and her response. He stationed himself at the head of the command table eyes focused in on the surveillance feed. Occasionally tapping his hand against the radio at his hip. The view zoomed into the front room of the house. The curtains drawn over the large windows. Lights on. "What's his name?"

"Charlie Fenton. He's a lawyer. The clientele is high stakes, big money. Hostage negotiators have been trying to talk to Mr. Fenton, but he's demanding to speak to only you, Marlow."

"Did he mention why?"

"We were hoping you could tell us." One of the women casts her a side-eye. Pretty greens against dark shadows.

"This is Sergeant Forman. Head of hostage negotiations, she'll be on the call with you." Says Tanner. "When you're ready."

"I am. How many people inside?"