Officer Matthew A. Jenkins eyed the crimeboard, a slight furrow on his brow. Him and his partner, Travis, along with a couple of other officers had been called out earlier that morning upon the discovery of a dead body in a back-alley near the harbor. It had only been lying there for a few hours according to Claudia, the station coroner, but the seagulls and rats had already managed to pick out the soft parts. It had been easy to get to them as the body had been brutally carved open, leaving the guts exposed. It was difficult to tell what had happened or even who it was. Photographs of their teeth had been sent in for dental recognition but that would take time.
A cry from the holding cells made Matt turn his gaze away from the rather gruesome images on the board. He went over to the holding area and peered through the door. As of the moment only one cell was occupied, and the inmate was making quite the ruckus.
They'd found him near the crimescene, bloody knife in hand and it'd taken three officers to take him down and bring him in. Matt had bruises and minor cuts on his arms after the clash. The man was out of control and spoke incoherent nonsense upon questioned.
Medical examiners were still unsure of what was causing his delirium, and had done several tests to find out.
"Enjoying the view?" Matt looked over as his partner stepped up beside him. Travis Philips was more than ten years older than Matt and had been his supervisor rather than his partner until very recently. Matt admired the man's work at the precinct and had it his goal to achieve the same kind of respect during his years here.
Travis gave a soft smile.
"You did a good job taking the guy down." He said placing a hand on Matt's shoulder.
"I had help." Matt replied, but couldn't help feeling a sting of pride at the praise.
"Sure." Travis said. "Of course you did. But if you hadn't advanced on him, I don't think any of us would've dared approach him. The man looked ready to slaughter anyone who came within five feet of him."
Matt gave a slow nod. It was true. The man had looked completely deranged.
They were waiting for a specialist to come have a look at him and hopefully get a coherent statement, but Matt had his doubts. The man seemed too far gone.
"What do you think happened to him?" he asked Travis. The older man frowned, peering through the door into the cell.
"Hard to tell..." he muttered, stroking his trademark black mustache. The lip ferret had been a subject of conversation since Matt's first day there. Most of his co-workers appeared to be under the impression that he should shave it off before it gained a mind of its own.
Matt didn't mind the moustache, but he couldn't say he considered growing his own.
A call from the station entrance made both men turn their heads. A colleague of them was waving for them to come over.
"The specialist's here." She announced once they were close enough. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at the little lounge area over by the kitchenette.
In one of the saggy, leather couches sat a nervous-looking elderly man with frail skin, stretching too thin across his bony hands and folding into well-worn wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He was wearing a tattered pinstrip suit and a faded fedora. Both officers eyed the man and then looked at each other with concerned disbelief.
"This is gonna be a disaster." Matt said quietly. At that moment the man turned his head and looked over at them. Both Matt and Travis gave uncertain waves before returning to their hushed conversation.
"We can't let him into that maniac. He'll be eaten alive!" Matt continued.
"Looks can be deceiving." Travis muttered back. "The man's an expert. He must have dealt with cases like this before. And we'll be in there with him."
Matt eyed him skeptically.
"This won't end well..." he said. "That guy looks like he'd fall over in a mild breeze."
"Look, we'll just have to roll with it, alright?" Travis replied, and he too looked slightly dubious to the whole idea of letting this man in to that maniac.
"We'll take him over to the holding cells and take it from there."
He went over to the so-called specialist and extended a greeting. Matt lingered a little before Travis made a semi-impatient gesture with his hand for him to come over.
"This is my partner, officer Jenkins." He said as Matt had made his way over. The specialist extended a hand and Matt took it.
"Delighted." The man said. "I'm Hector Clements. Psychologist. Fourty-three years in the field."
Matt had absolutely no trouble believing that and returned the greeting, somewhat stiffly.
"Matt Jenkins. Pleased to meet you."
Mr. Clements gave a faint smile before turning his attention to Travis again.
"So where is this ravaging individual you wanted me to see?" he asked. Travis put a hand around his shoulders and led him towards the holding cells while giving a brief synopsis on the basics of the case.
As if on que the man in the cell let out a particularly earsplitting wail just as they entered the holding area and threw himself at the bars.
Mr. Clements flinched and took a step back to steady himself.
"Heavens... is that him?" he said, and Matt cringed at the faintness on his voice. There was no way this would ever end well.
Mr. Clements inched a little closer to the imprisoned man, now clinging to the old-fashioned celldoor, breaths coming in irregular gasps and dark eyes wide-open and staring. His hair was messy and moist with sweat and his face was damp and dirt-grimed. He looked completely off the hook.
But despite the way he looked Mr. Clements went over to him and attempted to speak.
"Hello." He spoke clearly and his voice was firm. Matt couldn't help but admire the frail old man's sturdiness. Mr. Clements introduced himself and went on to ask the convict a few questions. He didn't get any coherent answers, but the man in the cell appeared to calm down a little. He detached himself from the door and retreated back into the cell a little. Matt sent Travis an incredulous glance and Travis returned the gaze with an equally dubious look. Maybe this Clements-guy would actually get through to this madman.
"Officer Philips..." Mr. Clement's said turning to look at Travis. "Would it be possible to enter the cell?"
Travis seemed slightly taken aback by the request and hesitated a moment.
"Please." Mr. Clements pressed on. "It would help if I could talk to him without these bars obstructing the view." Matt placed a hand on Travis' arm, shaking his head. Travis eyed him, seemingly thinking hard.
"Alright." He in the end said, pulling his keys off his belt and searching out the one for the cell.
The celldoor slid open with a long, groaning creak and Mr. Clements stepped towards the entry. Inside the convict eyed the old man cautiously from the other side of the cell.
"Now..." Mr. Clements began, venturing a step or two further inside. "Let's have a proper chat. Will you sit down with me?"
He went over and sat on the bed in there. Matt raised his hand slightly wanting to protest, but Travis stopped him, shaking his head. In the cell the convict eyed Mr. Clements cautiously. The elderly man smiled back at him and gave a faint nod.
The deranged man approached the bed carefully, and for a moment it really did look like he'd sit down and have a chat. But in that moment a loud noise rung out from elsewhere in the station and it resulted in the convict letting out a fierce wail and throwing himself at Mr. Clements. The old man was too slow to react, but Travis had stepped in and placed himself between the two.
Matt stooped in behind him and got hold of Mr. Clement's frail hand, pulling him to safety.
"Get him out of here." He said to another officer who'd come to see what was happening.
Matt turned around to see his partner pinned to the wall by the hands of this maniac. Travis struggled to get free, tugging fiercely at the hands locked around his throat.
The deranged convict screamed and knocked Travis' head back against the concrete wall. With each hit, Travis' movements seemed to become more sluggish and faint.
Matt undid his sidearm and took aim. An earsplitting bang pierced the precinct. The bullet went through the convict's head and lodged itself in the wall beyond. This must have been a breach on every protocol possible, but Matt didn't mind. He holstered his gun again and strode over to where Travis had collapsed against the wall.
"Travis?" Matt knelt down and put his hands on Travis' face lifting it so that their eyes were level.
Travis looked up, squinting in the faint light.
"Hey, Matt..." he said quietly. "Nice shooting, pal."