Return to the Scene of the Crime


colette_icon.gif judah_icon.gif kaydence_icon.gif

Scene Title Return to the Scene of the Crime
Synopsis Colette returns to Crown Heights Police Station to check in with Judah, only to discover that getting to the detective won't be as easy as she might've anticipated.
Date August 27, 2008

Brooklyn, outside Crown Heights Police Station

"Streamers. What kind of sick puppy packs a bomb full of streamers?" Detective Damaris, with her faintly Southern accent, picks one colourful paper decoration up with her pencil and eyes it critically. Evidence is evidence. It gets put in a bag. She then walks to the ruined squad car and frowns. "Someone could have been killed." She surveys the rest of the damage, and the crowds behind the police tape, before seeking out her partner. "What do you reckon, Demsky?"

Detective Judah Demsky stands outside the triangular piece of pavement marked off by gaudy yellow crime tape, a walkie-talkie cradled in one his large palms. The scene in front of Crown Heights Police Station is a busy one, but it's not nearly as hectic as it was a few hours ago when the city's Police Commissioner was battling a tide of news reporters and journalists from out-of-state. Apart from the flashing of the sirens and the half-dozen or so police officers that linger on the edges of the crime scene on the lookout for evidence that the bomb squad might have missed earlier, it's relatively quiet now that the worst is over.

"Fortis et liber," he tells Kaydence. "Didn't you take Latin at Cornell?"

"No, no, he gave me his card!" Shouting over by the police barricade of the site of the blast mixed in with the noise of sirens, emergency response units and the commotion of the growing crowd of onlookers that came to observe the scene of the explosion. Mixed among these teeming masses were the fearful and the anxious, the angry and the outraged. Colette Nichols fit into neither party in this instance. "His name is, uh…" Warded off by a pair of patrol officers, the young, dark-haired girl who had muscled her way — as best as she could — through the crowd rummaged in her pants pockets for the crumpled blue card, looking at the name written on it. "Detective Demsky." She turned the card around, holding it up into the officer's face, "Lemmie through!" There was a certain lack of finesse about the way Colette handled things, and a lack of finesse in the face of law enforcement, coupled by an agitated crowd wasn't helping matters any.

"Look, I think I saw something, an' I wanna' tell Detective Demsky!" She can't see the detective, or his partner for that matter, with the two much larger officers in the way. "Is he alright?" Concern began to set in as she tried to work her way to either side of the people gawking at the scene beside her. "Mmnh, that's my foot!" She shouldered into someone, the large paper bag carried under her other arm crinkling as she did.

"Of course I took Latin at Cornell." Kay fights the urge to roll her eyes. She can never quite tell if her partner's poking fun at her for being a law school drop-out or not. Likely not. That would require Demsky to discover a sense of humour. "Strong and free," she murmurs in translation. "Do you think the lack of casualties was intentional? Or dumb luck for the bystanders?" She frowns faintly and then spots the girl trying to break through the crowd, and the officers. "What do you think her issue is?"

"If their aim was to kill people," Judah points out, "then they would have detonated the bomb during daylight hours when the street outside the station was packed. Just look at the streamers. This isn't an attack — it's a message." On the other end of the walkie-talkie, a tinny voice asks for a status report from the detectives, but rather than answer it Judah decides to change frequencies and tuck the device into his back pocket. "Who?" he asks, squinting as his gaze moves through the crowd. It's dark, and in the dark all faces look the same — at least to him.

Stuck behind the police barricade and crowded with the onlookers who were waiting for the other shoe to drop, Colette furrowed her brow and leaned to one side, looking around the officers as she shoved the blue card back into her pocket, "Damnit." The girl looked around, squeezing her way back through the crowd with the paper bag held close to her chest. Once she had let others take her place up by the barricade, the young girl tapped her foot impatiently, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as she tries to put together an idea that didn't involve being thrown in the back of a cruiser. She finally notices some of the burned streamers where she stands, watching one that was hung over a power line get caught on the breeze and flutter through the air. She follows it as it drifts and lands down in the middle of the street, and when she looks back up, she spots something across the way that's exactly what she's looking for.

Hustling across the street, Colette drops that full paper bag down beside an old phone booth, rummaging through her pockets for loose change, "Oh come on, you've got to be— " She halts her frustrated moanings as she palms a pair of quarters. Then, stealing into the phone booth — nudging her paper bag along with her with one foot — Colette picks up the receiver, deposits her change, and retrieves that already worn-out looking card from her pocket. "Eight, zero, seven…" She mumbles, dialing the number, the rest of it faded beneath her breath as she leans against the cracked plexiglass wall as it begins to ring. "C'mon…"

"I reckoned," Kaydence Lee agrees. "So do you suppose it was set up on a timer? Or did they have someone watchin' and set it off manual?" The bomb squad supplies answers like this, sure, but they didn't exactly rush to tell her what's going on. "Do they even need timers? Detonators? What if they can do it with their mind powers? Spooky." She wiggles her fingers in her partner's face. Joking to relieve the tension. "…Do you hear something?"

"Most likely," is the answer to one of Kaydence's first two questions, though he doesn't specify which. When he finds his partner's fingers intruding on his personal space, he takes a single step back and angles his head at her — birdlike. Does he hear something? Sure. Judah hears a lot of things: the static crackle of his walkie-talkie in his back pocket, the droning murmur of the crowd and — what's that? — a ring tone? He holds up one finger, gesturing for silence as he reaches inside of his coat and feels around for his cell phone. Fortunately, it isn't hard to find; in addition to playing a simplified version of Modest Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain, it's vibrating loudly enough to rattle the loose change in his shirt pocket. In one smooth motion, he unfolds the phone and brings it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"H-Hello? Detective Demsky?" The voice on the other end was notably a young girl's, "Hey it's me — Uh, Colette Nichols…" There was a pause, followed by a groaned sigh, "The girl that walked right into you earlier? Um, I saw on the news… what happened where we were. I'm down there right now, but these meathead cops won't tell me if you're here!" A moment of silence, and she sounded calm again, "I'm over at the payphone across the street — That whole thing, the bomb or whatever, I think I might've seen…" What exactly did she see? "Something? I… I don't know, but that whole thing, I saw some kids leave a briefcase behind. They — I dunno — god this is so stupid, why am I doing this?"

"God. You need to change that fucking ringtone, Dem-" Kay cuts herself off as soon as he actually gets the phone out of his pocket and answers it. She busies herself by making another sweep around the scene. There must be something here. Some sort of clue. Something other than the damnable Latin.

As Colette speaks, Judah snaps his fingers at Kaydence, trying to get her attention. "Slow down," he murmurs into the mouthpiece, "slow down. What do you mean, you saw some kids?" If he hasn't snagged his partner yet, hopefully /that/ will. He moves parallel to some tape stretched between the stairs in front of the police station and one of the lampposts that line the street, bits of broken glass and plastic crunching beneath his loafers. With his free hand, he points across the police barricade and past the crowd to the payphone. With any luck his meaning should be clear: check it out.

"R-Right before I bumped into you — there were some kids in black across the street. I dunno, talking or something." Colette tried her best to slow down, but today had taken its toll on her patience, "I was heading across the street to ask them about Nicole, and then I bumped into you." A momentary pause, she was trying to collect her thoughts. "I… I don't know what I saw, I mean, if it was important — I just, when we were done talking, I was going to go talk to them, but they were gone. One of them left his briefcase behind, like, a black one? The kind a lawyer would have or something…" She breathes heavily into the mouthpiece, a sigh, "It was right up against the lamp post, and then, I went to Chinatown and met this weird girl, and she bought me dinner, and then I saw everything happening on the television, and she was just — bam — gone. I didn't know what to do, but— " She was starting to ramble in a frantic manner again, "— I just thought I should tell you what happened, so I headed back here on the bus, and, I could've… just called you from Chinatown." She groans, distressed, at her own thoughtless actions.

"On it!" Kay shouts over her shoulder to Judah when he points her in the right direction. She's pushing through the crowds and toward the payphone with nary an apology. Once she reaches it, she leans against the side of it and flashes her badge. "Mind if I borrow that?" She takes the receiver from Colette's hand and sighs into the phone. "Seriously, Jude. What is it with you and teenage girls? You starting a collection?" She hangs up the phone before he has a chance to respond. After all, it would be something logical. Like how one simply does not collect teenage girls. Or something that would make absolutely no sense. Like how he'd need a bigger display case. Either way, she doesn't care to hear it. "C'mon, kiddo. You said you saw something? Demsky and I'll take you out to the diner to chat. His treat." She smiles to her partner, who certainly can't hear her, and gives him a thumbs up.

Letting out a startled yelp, Colette moved back against the wall of the telephone booth as the receiver was snatched out of her hand, "W-wha — hey!" She recoils from the close proximity of the stranger, looking down to the paper bag at her feet and then back up, "I-I just— " Looking at her face on, Kaydence can see the girl is blinded in one eye — her right eye — though it's partially covered by her bangs, it's clear enough that she can't see out of it at all. "Alright, alright, just… Don't taze me or, whatever it is you cops do." She wrinkles her nose, slowly lowering her hands as her fingers flex open and closed. She nods, slowly, trying to curb her attitude, "I ah, already ate dinner, but…" She glances out the scuffed up plexiglass, then back to Kaydence, "Y-yeah… fine."

Kaydence receives a flat stare from Judah who, even though the call has been disconnected, continues to press his phone against his ear. He has no idea what she's telling Colette, but years of experiencing working alongside her has taught him that he probably won't like it.

August 27th: A Good Thing
August 27th: Those Freaks
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