LaSalle Crossing (Season 11)

Episode 1: The Perfect Patsy

"Season 11 isn't just back. It's getting personal."

Welcome Back To LaSalle Crossing.

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Trigger warning: This scene contains a bad cop on the take and his less than desirable thoughts and actions. Read with care. - L.R.

LaSalle Crossing General Hospital
Emergency Room
12:15 p.m.

"So where'd you get the wet cigarettes, Hudson?" Sergeant Kit Boltman sneered at the pale-faced, trembling young substitute teacher, Brooks Hudson, who cowered beneath a thin sheet on a long steel stretcher. There was an ominous IV tube poking from Brooks's slim arm and other machines attached to his fragile body, but none of that particularly bothered the short fireplug LaSalle Crossing police officer as he loomed over the wide-eyed patient.

Brooks swallowed. He was feeling weaker than ever and it wasn't all from that stupid cigarette he'd found outside of the medical clinic before his physical exam appointment with Dr. Len Lamon. He shouldn't have picked it up. His nose twitched. Why did he pick it up? He didn't smoke, drink, do drugs. He was literally dull as dishwater.

So why had he picked the darn thing up? Then Brooks suddenly remembered as he blurted out tensely," I found it on the sidewalk." He swallowed. "Before I went in to see Dr. Lamon. I was going to throw it away. I hate litterers. But I didn't see a trash can nearby. I should probably write a letter to The Gazette on availability of disposal containers. Or do you think it'd be better to inform the mayor? I don't want to bother Mayor Guillory though. What with her cancer and all."

Kit barked out a rough laugh. He knew this idiot wasn't a junkie or even connected to the wet cigarette ring, but his real boss Jasmine Rousseau was the head of it all, and would definitely appreciate if this fool took the rap.

Then the organization could lay low for a while in town.

Maybe do more business in McMuck; those losers would do anything for a quick buzz. What else was there to occupy them in stinky McMuck whose only claim to fame was when Elvis stopped there upteenth years ago to take a shit in some honky-tonk bar? They'd even put a plaque over top of the crapper his regal butt had perched on. Fools.

Yeah. This Brooks character was the perfect patsy, Kit mused, as he poked the man sharply in his paper-gown wearing chest. A surge of pleasure shot through him at the puny nerd's small moan. Outsider from Texas or Oklahoma or wherever he'd came from. Wasn't even a real teacher; just some moron the superintendent called in to work every now and then. Not that Brooks Hudson would be getting those calls anymore. The school employees signed a morals clause just like the cops and other town workers.

Overdosing was a definite violation of morality. Kit smirked. Even if if the geek claimed it was an "accident." If Kit claimed this guy, this unemployed junkie, was behind all of the drugs in LaSalle Crossing who the fuck was going to contradict him? He was a sergeant, for God's sake. One who should have either Boudreaux or Lane's jobs.

"Riight, Hudson. You just happened to do your civic duty and pick up trash that later on after your appointment ended up lit up in your hand? As you were ODing? His voice rose a little too loud. "Do I look like a moron?! You not only belonged to that tainted cigarette, but you the one selling it to our kids at the school. You put poor lil' Emily Lefleur in a coma. Doc said she might be a broccoli if she ever wakes up. You screwed up Kathie Price's worthless kidneys so she had to beg one from Officer Billy Jack Bellows, her son. Admit it and we'll go real easy on your skinny butt."

Brooks's green eyes filled with tears just as the flowery curtain pulled open to reveal a narrow-eyed Chief Chick Boudreaux standing there. Behind him was one of those two ridiculous co-principals at the jr.-sr. high school, Lyle Anderson, and Kit's girlfriend Sara in her puppy dog nursing scrubs.

Chick looked pissed, Lyle worried as usual, and Sara was rolling her eyes insolently at him.

"Get out, Boltman," Chick snapped, dislike edging every word. "Questioning doesn't mean abusing someone who had to be given Narcan not too long ago. This man is not under arrest anymore than Kathie Price or Emily is. He's a victim until we know more. And I don't appreciate the entire damn ER hearing one of my cops acting like a bully on the playground." His finger pointed at Kit, who was now coldly eyeing his superior officer. "Go over to the Care Clinic and help Faith and Nina questioning witnesses. I'll take over here."

Lyle crossed his arms firmly. "And I'm staying too. I've never known Brooks to be an issue before. I'm sure there's a... perfectly... reasonable explanation for all this."

Kit snorted. "Sure. No problem." Under his breath, he muttered," Like your drunk ass will find out anything. Unless ol' Lyle looks in his crystal ball and has one of his so-called visions."

Chick's face tightened. "You say something, Sergeant Boltman?"

Kit plastered a big, awe-shucks grin on his own ruddy face. He shrugged as he ambled by the trio, trying hard not to touch Lyle because who knew what he had.

"Nope, Chief. Not a thing." His smile spread colder than before. In his squad car, he'd give Jasmine a ring. Find out what her next move was. Maybe she'd put another hit on Boudreaux.

This time it wouldn't fail.