SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 25

CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.

Officers rushed towards us, a stampede of furious animals, bulldozing us to the ground, swarming around like frantic wasps, stinging and loud. Befuddled and protesting, I shot my hands into the air, exclaiming. "Hey–!" An officer shoved me, barking TO THE GROUND like I didn't hear him the first time. I wore a face mask of wet soil, the earthy smell crawling up my nose, dribbles of mud slipping into my mouth. I turned my head to Irvin amongst the confusion and loud noises and saw he was in a similar position to me except he was being searched. A man in uniform patted him down rather aggressively and I had a feeling he'd make a beeline for me once he was done.

I was right: he took my phone, keys and money. "Alright. Alright." I recognised that voice: Chief Michaels. "Get up. Help them up."

I pushed away the hands that offered, scrubbed my dirty face and glared at the old whiskered man, hands in his overcoat, scarf around his neck, cosy. I'd like to lunge at him and strangle him with his own scarf if I had the chance. "What the hell was that!?"

"We had a tip off–"

"From who?"

He gave me a stern, teacher-like look. "Let me finish. We had a tip off from a neighbour about suspicious activity in this back garden. Clearly" he pointedly looked around at the unearthed flowerbeds and half-dug front garden "you're doing something you're not supposed to be doing."

"This is her house," Irvin shot angrily, he turned to the officer who'd nabbed our things. "Can I have my shit back?"

Chief Michaels gave the nod, and waited until we stuffed our pockets with our belongings before continuing. "Exactly. This is your house. Your father's house. This is a crime scene and I can have you arrested for obstructing my officers while they're trying to–"

"What are you doing?" I demanded an officer who had picked up my shovel. "You can't do this. This isn't a crime scene. Are you serious?" Irvin was fighting with an officer for the ownership of his shovel, yanking it back and forth between themselves like it was a game of toss and catch, the officer threatening to arrest Irvin if he didn't back off.

Chief Michaels stared us down, watery brown eyes hard, lips pressed together, face browned like he just got back from a sunny holiday. "It's almost three in the morning. I highly doubt you kids were planting seeds. Why don't you come inside and make us a cup of tea? Let my officers do their work."

"Electricity's out." Stubbornly, I jutted out my chin, crossing my arms and levelling a stare back at Michaels. Irvin wasn't about to let go: he was fighting off another officer who had slammed him to the ground, twisting his arms behind his back as he screamed I know my rights! He was trying to throw off the bigger man to no avail. The handcuffs were slapped tight around his wrists.

"Come inside," Michaels was beginning to fast lose his patience with us, "and we'll have a talk. Simmons, bring in Tehrani."

"I can walk." Irvin growled to the woman who hoisted him to his feet, guiding him inside. "I'm not disabled, back off." She ignored him. Michaels didn't wait for another rebuttal from me, swiftly disappearing inside the house.

I sunk my shoulders in defeat, throwing one last begrudging glance at the officers who were digging a whole lot more effectively than Irvin and I ever could and retreated into the house.

The rain intensified, the clouds darkening, ominously promising of the unpleasant future. There was comfort in naïveté–something I wouldn't have the pleasure of keeping after today.