Detective Knox had been on the job only a few weeks, not yet long enough to understand how far into the pit of hell the city's pipeline dipped. Coming up through the ranks, he had believed he knew everything there was to know about being a detective, that there was nothing left for him to see. He was wrong, and would forever admit he was foolish to ever believe the worst was behind him.
The call came in a few minutes before midnight, the exact time a detail lost to the deterioration of his mind. He was working the graveyard shift, as he preferred, not letting on to his colleagues that being kept away from the daylight was not a punishment for him. Night gave the city a different feel; it made the air smell different, it revealed the lines and shapes of lurking evil that only came out to play once the righteous had drifted off to sleep.
Knox's reservoir of excitement had yet to be drained, and his heart threatened to tear through his skin with each new assignment. Even then, he thought it distasteful to revel in the misfortune of others. He didn't stop himself, he lacked the self-control to do so, but he understood the need to keep his feelings hidden, lest his career be derailed by a reputation as a man with a blood lust.
The case appeared to be a straight-forward incident of self-defense. A young woman, alone in a dark alley, shot and killed a man trying to assault her. She looked the part of an unwitting victim, shaking as she recounted as much of the story as her shock-addled mind could remember. The body they stood over would turn out to be a repeat offender, exactly the kind of man who might be waiting for prey in a dark alley. Nothing about the case was remarkable, nor did anything seem out of place.
Detective Knox, though, was not as sure as his partner that they were dealing with an open and shut case. Doubt lingered in his mind about whether she could have killed a man to save her own life, and though he didn't know why he should have given it any consideration, it had sunk its venomous fangs into his consciousness, and he would not be able to sleep without looking into the matter.
Knox was supposed to file the report the following morning, and then the case should have been over. He promised his partner he would follow through, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was constructing a lie. At daybreak, under the gentle rays of sunlight, he went back to the scene. With the dark edges sanded down, he could see what had been invisible to him the night before. Grime covered every inch of the alley, as it did the entire city, and yet the asphalt below his feet was undisturbed. There was no evidence of a struggle, save for a spray of black blood the department had no interest in washing away.
Knox debated whether to dig deeper for the truth, or to let the world be rid of a rotten soul, without asking too much about how it was achieved. The moral dilemma cut to the heart of what it meant to be a detective, to be someone charged with protecting the city from evil. His conscience was his only guide, and the burden his alone to shoulder.
Detective Knox was, at his core, a man of law and order. Though he could see the benefit of taking thugs and thieves off the map by whatever means, he could not be a part of allowing it to happen. His charge in life was making sure the truth was uncovered, making sure more people were not led down the path of sin. Life would have been easier if he could have divorced himself from his moral compass, but he knew his soul would wither if he tried.
Detective Knox knocked on her door, hoping a new day would stir remorse in her. As the door opened, he could see the look on her face hollow out, further proof that he was walking down the right path.
“Excuse me, but I'd like to ask you a few more questions about last night.”
“I'm sorry, but I already told you everything I can.”
“I don't believe that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I know what really happened in that alley, and so do you. It would be easier for both of us if you admitted it, rather than make me have to go through official channels and prove it.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure you do. If you don't want to tell me now, you can wait and tell everyone in court. I don't know, maybe you'd like having an audience to play to.”
“Please leave.”
“Yes, ma'am. But I'll be back.”
Knox did not give up his pursuit of the truth. He was able to persuade his partner to keep the case open, staking out her house at night, leaving reminders that they were getting closer to uncovering the truth. This lasted only a few days, but it felt like an eternity for them both. The pressure built with every passing moment, until it could no longer be contained.
The call came in at five minutes before midnight, the time etched in Knox's mind. The young woman could no longer live with the continual accusations; she could not deal with the thought of being considered a murderer. She took her own life, rather than live another day under the cloud of suspicion.
Detective Knox blamed himself, even as the thought crossed his mind that he had been proven right. This was not the result he wanted, it was not the way things were supposed to play out. Justice may have been delivered, but it was not served. No one, not even the guilty, deserved to die like that. Knox had irreparably broken her, and no amount of prayer would be able to free him from the burden of his conscience.
Matters were made worse the next day, as the news of her suicide brought a new witness out of the shadows, one who corroborated her story. She had been threatened, and she had defended herself as she said. There was no struggle, because she fired at the first sight of a gun, and an opportunistic passerby took the weapon before the police had arrived at the scene. Knox had pushed an innocent woman into a terrible, drastic action, a mistake he would spend his entire life atoning for.
* * *
Detective Lane looked at his partner, his face long, his expression devoid of any tangible emotion. Hearing that his partner could fail was a shock to his system, and that he could do so in such a horrifying manner was incomprehensible.
“How did you survive that?”
“I survived that first day because I had approval from above. I survived every day after that because it was the first, and last, mistake I made.”
“I can't believe it.”
“But you see why we can't get ahead of ourselves, don't you?”
“Yes. You were right.”
Getting Away With Murder: Can The Police Solve Anything?
By: William McNeal
Another day has come and gone, and the police are no closer to making an arrest in the 'locked room murder', sources have revealed. The department is running out of clues without striking upon a single solid lead. All appearances are that the investigation will be prolonged, difficult, and likely to end without any answers.
This development is unacceptable. In a city that is comfortable with the brazen violence that fills the streets, a murder of this kind, one that shakes people's senses to the core, must be solved. We cannot allow the citizenry to be afraid in their own homes. Some things need to be sacred, and it's up to the police to make sure they stay that way.
It has come to light that the lead investigator of the case, Detective Dylan Knox, has a troubling history. Though he is a decorated officer with a large number of cases solved, sources say he was once involved in harassing an assault victim, driving her to suicide.