Arrest
A free weekly Sci-fi, crime thriller novel, about police, health care, and big pharma corruption to cover up their failures and genocide. Chapters: One to seven.
Rachel leaned forward, her eyes fixated on her reflection in the mirror, as she carefully stretched her lips to apply her favourite shade of lipstick. She took a step back, her brows furrowing and her lips forming a pout. Then, she moved forward and drew an outline with her lip liner. As she did so, she carefully used her little finger to erase any smudges or mistakes.
With a gentle twist, she closed the lid of her lipstick and set it down on the pristine white console table in her hall. From her soft leather handbag, she carefully pulled out her phone, its sleek design fitting perfectly in her hand. On her phone, she opened the analytics app to analyse her social media following. In the last fortnight, her followers had multiplied tenfold, creating a buzzing energy around her.
The Cancer Cure vaccine, affectionately called the "Big CC" by the media, had finally arrived, offering hope to millions. In a massive effort to encourage uptake in the population, pharmaceutical companies were offering substantial financial incentives to social media influencers. Their goal was for the influencers to take the CC vaccines and persuade their followers to do the same, all in the name of the NHS and public health.
Rachel considered it a generous amount of money. The money offered for taking the Big CC was set at £2000. Rachael's success as a health and fitness influencer was evident in her impressive income, allowing her to upgrade her home twice to larger, more spacious residences. £2000 may have seemed insignificant given her high monthly income, but it was not to be disregarded. After all, the new vaccine promised to save people from cancer.
Rachel immediately took the first CC vaccine. Having taken her second vaccine two days ago, she was now prepared to follow the recommendation and receive a third and fourth. Her first vaccination resulted in a fever, which occurred after she received the CC vaccine. However, her second vaccine went smoothly, with no side effects. The previous fever lasted a matter of days.
As far as Rachel was concerned, the vaccines worked, and the science backed that claim. And she was in no position to argue against the experts when she was not an expert. Also, the pharmaceutical company sought her to represent its brand. She felt a deep, profound sense of honour.
Rachel's close friends and family were not surprised when the organisers chose her to promote the vaccine - they knew she was the perfect fit. Rachael's natural charm and charisma effortlessly captivated a massive following of hundreds of thousands. Her clear skin, bright blue eyes, white teeth, and thick blonde hair accentuated her natural striking beauty. And to go with her outward beauty her, her inward beauty flowed outwards too.
Her work as a social media influencer revolved around promoting well-being and health, drawing from her previous profession. She had previously worked as a nurse and devoted her time to caring for children with disabilities. This ensured that her audience not only trusted her but also developed a deep affection for her.
She left her house, secured her phone on a selfie stick, and hopped into her car to drive to a nearby park. In the park, she typically did her morning workout and chatted with her audience on a livestream. Consistently, Rachel produced a video every single day to showcase her dedication. Each topic focused on the importance of beauty, health, and overall well-being.
Once in the park, she walked her usual walk down the winding path, admiring the vibrant colours of the flowers. As she walked, her pace slowed as she suddenly felt queasy. Slowly, she approached a tree along the path, her fingers gripping tightly to its rough bark as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Inhaling deeply, she could feel a cool breeze against her face as she gripped the tree tightly, seeking stability.
Momentarily, confusion and concern washed over her like a wave. The feeling of faintness was completely foreign to her, never having experienced it before. Her heart raced, and a sense of dread settled in her chest. Fears and emotions emerged in her mind. Rather than facing that particular concern, she made an effort to find another plausible explanation.
“I need some warmer autumn clothes. The air is so cold today.” She spoke aloud as she looked up to the sky and the surrounding trees.
The trees were adorned with green leaves, with a few hints of brown as they fell to the ground. The summer had flown by, taking with it the heavy, warm air that had accompanied it.
Rachel cautiously let go of the tree, feeling the solid ground beneath her feet and started her usual walk. Still feeling that she needed some confidence after the feeling of faintness, Rachel wanted to gain her stride and hear the rhythmic sound of her footfalls. Knowing she might faint, she decided to go for a walk where she would encounter more people than her usual serene routes.
Soon, she fell back into the rhythm of her usual walk, the feeling of faintness fading away. As her confidence returned, a gentle laugh escaped her lips. Conspiracy theories about the Big CC vaccines had been circulating on the internet. Fear briefly consumed her mind as she entertained those theories during her strange episode. She should have known better than to even contemplate such nonsensical ideas.
With each step she took, her confidence grew, and she fell back into her stride. As she settled into her surroundings, her usual charismatic self infused every step as she pulled out her selfie stick, and prepared to do her video. The familiar task of feeding instruction and advice to her audience played out again as she went live online. She immersed herself in the familiar rhythm of selling and promoting products, in the hope of a lucrative return on her time.
As her pace quickened along the winding pathway in the park, she took large gulps from her water bottle. The strange feeling that had previously overwhelmed her lingered in the depths of her thoughts. Despite her preference for solitude during her walking talks, she found herself grateful for the presence of others at that moment. Even if it meant enduring the stares of passersby as they stood and watched her film.
Before she took her more secluded path in the park, she used to stroll with her camera in hand and engage in conversation with her camera phone. Online commenters would often find amusement in the bewildered onlookers who would pause and gaze in fascination. Rachel always felt that their vacant expressions in the background disrupted the flow of the walk and talk. The gormless stare in the background captivated her audience's gaze, causing them to lose focus on her selling and promotion discussions.
“Now I have this amazing, all-natural, all-organic product for you guys. It is the most incredible product I’ve come across in recent months. Can you see in the camera a glossy sheen in my hair? This shampoo is what gives your hair that shiny, glossy appearance. And you can have it too. Now don’t worry about the price, I have mega discounts for you guys. Honestly, once you try it, you will be hooked. I simply can’t stop using this stuff.”
Rachel effortlessly spoke into the camera, happy to sell anything and everything that came her way. She took her thick, blonde ponytail and pulled it to her nose. She took a deep breath in.
“Wow! Wow, wow, wow. It smells incredible. Natural essential oils. The scent and fragrance linger for the rest of the day.”
As she spoke, she saw a young man sitting on a bench, which triggered another thought in her mind.
“And girls, viewers, these are unisex shampoos, and there are scents and fragrances in the collection that will appeal to your man. So you can both have glossy hair.”
As she was approaching the man on the bench, she worked her walk a little harder and pouted a little more. With his attractive looks, she knew that capturing his gaze in her video would add an irresistible allure to the sale of her product. She always noticed a bigger impact on her sales and promotions when she captured similar scenes on camera.
She raised her voice, hoping to capture his attention more easily.
“Oh, and remember guys, girls, viewers, and friends, take your booster vaccines. I’ve taken mine. Check out my Instagram and Facebook. You’ll see all the photos. And my Tik-Tok. Links are in the description box below.”
While she spoke, the man sitting on the bench erupted into boisterous laughter, accompanied by a deep grunt. Walking by, she noticed him shaking his head while engrossed in his phone. Instead of him watching her, she watched him closely through the camera screen, capturing every detail of his expression.
“Don’t do it, guys and girls and viewers and friends. It’s a scam!” With hands cupped around his mouth, the man called out, his voice echoing through the air. With a laugh, he waved towards the camera, which was now a dozen steps ahead, capturing the moment. Rachel rolled her eyes.
“Hate to say this, and I don’t want to sound judgemental, but these anti-vaxxers. Wow, they are so obnoxious. But you know it’s up to them. If they want to die of cancer, if they want to go through all of that pain, let them.” she said with a shrug.
Rachel noticed on the camera screen the anti-VAX man getting up from the bench. She shook her head disappointedly.
“It is such a shame that when science brings us the most incredible remedies and cures, those cures get sniffed at and mocked like that. I am the biggest fan of science. It is so incredible and life-changing.” Rachel said to her audience with empathy.
In an instant, a searing pain rippled through Rachel's chest, stealing her breath. Her head and eyes rolled up as if pulled. She could see the trees standing tall and swaying in the breeze. She attempted to stumble over to them, desperately seeking something sturdy to grasp onto amidst the excruciating pain. As she attempted to move, her body felt burdened, as if weighed down by an invisible force. Then everything darkened.
Chapter 2
Sitting on the park bench, Mike's finger moved across the phone screen, his eyes widening at the chilling details of multiple corpses being discovered in his usual internet searches for news reports. Lost in his phone, Mike was oblivious to the chatter of people and the rumble of passing bikes. Every day, Mike diligently scoured through various types of news articles, absorbing the latest information like a sponge. The rest of the world remained oblivious to his perspective, while the screams of terror echoed all around them.
That morning, seventy news reports detailed the discovery of lifeless bodies discovered in forests, by lakes, or within homes. That was a significant increase from last month’s reports. It was during that month when Mike noticed a disturbing trend - the haunting sight of dead bodies being frequently discovered in idyllic beauty spots, which were meant for strolls. If they had not died while out for a solitary stroll, they might have been at home, engrossed in the glow of the television screen.
Mike tightened his lips and shook his head, his heart heavy with sympathy for those unsuspecting souls. He let out a shaky sigh, feeling the weight of solitude as he looked around him. He had frequently taken solitary walks ever since openly criticising the CC vaccine rollouts. Unlike others who took solitary strolls, Mike felt a sense of security, knowing he was unlikely to meet his demise on his lonesome walk. He had not anticipated the overwhelming wave of rejection that greeted his disapproval of a product.
The rejection not only cost him friends but also his job and some family members. He had lost family members, both through the pain of rejection and the shock of sudden death. As he felt himself sinking into despair, he found the strength to claw his way out of the depths of depression. He reminded himself that his rejection of such an offer as a prevention of cancer meant there must be a compelling reason behind his decision. There was more than just a reason; there was an obvious purpose.
With this realisation, Mike returned to his former self, full of confidence and determination. The only difference being he had no relationships or job now. He had to adapt to this significant change. As his confidence grew, he revelled in the joy of finding an uncensored corner of the internet where he could freely observe and comment on news articles. He had garnered the smallest of followings. A group of eleven people.
They would arrange to meet for online discussions, and Mike would take the time to freshen up and put on professional attire reminiscent of his former work. His thoughts shifted back to the tragic fate of those lifeless bodies, victims of heartless killers. However, the level of cunning behind these murders was so immense that it eluded most people's understanding. How people who had died suddenly were being reported on was changing too. Reports began to surface, detailing the sudden and unexpected deaths of certain individuals.
Mike, like other conspiracy theorists, began to uncover these deaths following a global campaign for Cancer Cure vaccines.
They would then provide details on the victim's vaccination history, specifically mentioning if they had received the "CC vaccine" as identified by Mike. Despite the legality, the media, experts, pharmaceutical companies, and politicians vehemently opposed the disclosure and reporting of individuals' vaccine status. They openly disapproved of it, sending a strong message to the public to do the same. They would hurl insults at the conspiracy theorists, demeaning them and labelling them as threats to society.
The media then started to rephrase such deaths as “unexplained” or “unknown cause”. It meant Mike had to search various phrases to find the victims now. As Mike read through the countless articles of sudden and unexpected deaths and the discovery of lifeless bodies, he heard the faint sound of a woman's voice drawing near.
“...remember guys, girls, viewers, and friends, take your booster vaccines. I’ve taken mine. Check out my Instagram and Facebook. You’ll see all the photos. And my Tik-Tok. Links are in the description box below ...”
Mike quietly laughed and grunted into his phone as he heard the woman speaking into her camera phone. She caught his attention, and he momentarily shifted his focus to lock eyes with her. It was a shame. She is quite an attractive woman. In the past, she would have been the epitome of what Mike found attractive, with her elegant demeanour and impeccable style. She wore fitted cropped leggings that hugged her every curve, paired with a loose vest that billowed in the breeze. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail, while her feet were comfortably clad in trainers. Despite looking ready for a run, she strolled along with a camera grasped in her hands.
Mike assumed the young woman had some kind of following on social media based on what he had just heard. It had come to Mike's attention that numerous social media influencers were being financially supported by various agencies across the globe to endorse vaccines to cure and prevent cancer. If Mike had learned anything over the past few years, it was that he had lost interest in women whose ambition was solely fueled by money.
Mike's admiration for women like the one walking past him now had been strong not too long ago. Yet now, a moment of disappointment washed over him as he contemplated the women he had once dismissed and rejected for not being ambitious. Right now, his whole view of the world was clouded with struggle. He had never experienced such a struggle before, and it shook him to his core.
Mike's eyes narrowed as he listened to what the attractive woman was passionately advocating, his gaze fixated on her every move. Intrigued by what she was sharing with her audience on the camera, Mike abandoned his phone searches. Feeling more frustrated that she had wasted her life and was happily encouraging others to waste theirs, he called out after her.
“Don’t do it, guys and girls and viewers and friends. It’s a scam!”
He got up from the bench and quietly pursued the woman, maintaining a safe distance between them. As he listened to what she was saying to her audience, a wave of disgust washed over him. He could feel his nose crinkle and his face recoil in shock from the force of her vaccine pushing.
As he followed her, he could hear her persuasive voice selling what he referred to as the lethal injection, and Mike's panic grew stronger. Two conflicting thoughts battled in his mind - should he approach her and educate her or should he let her be? It was time now surely, to accept that these people will continue to ignore the potential dangers of those injections.
The product was intentionally marketed through those specific influencers. Within the darker forces of this realm, it was widely acknowledged that their presence greatly influenced the decisions of those who beheld them. Since the participants aspired to be like their influencers, he found it impossible to alter their mindset. As he watched the woman confidently trot ahead, his steps faltered and eventually came to a complete halt.
Chapter 3
“Michael James Smith?”
Mike's senses heightened as he noticed the two men at his front door while returning home with his grocery shopping. With each step he took down his unevenly paved footpath, he could feel the slight wobble and sway beneath his feet, guiding him towards his red-bricked council house. The gate made a creaking noise as it forcefully slammed shut behind him.
The neighbouring property had a notorious reputation in the neighbourhood for its drug-dealing activities. The police were a common presence in Mike's area, having already paid a visit to his home, hoping for any valuable and incriminating information. As Mike approached the two men, he noticed that they were dressed in plain clothes, a relief from his previous encounters of uniformed officers knocking on doors.
It didn't take long for him to realise that they had used his full name, sending a wave of unease through him. As the realisation hit him, a deep frown etched onto his face.
“Er, how do you know my name?”
Panic struck him as he feared he had somehow become entangled with the drug-dealing neighbours, their shady activities looming over him. As far as he knew, he had no disagreements or feuds with any of other his neighbours. In the event of seeing the drug dealer outside, he would express his disapproval with a grunt. However, he couldn't comprehend why the drug dealer would drag him into this situation. Despite their intention to be disrespectful towards the dealer, his grunts had previously failed to provoke any kind of retaliation.
Mike placed his carrier bags on the ground as he took his door key from his pocket. As he extended his hand, it betrayed his anxiety with a visible tremor.
“Do you mind if we come in?”
Mike's trembling hand caused the key to slip from his grasp, clattering onto the hard concrete.
“Damn!” he hissed as he bent down to pick it up. While crouching down, he stole a quick glance at the home of the notorious drug-dealing neighbour. Mike spoke under his breath, his voice barely audible as he gave a slight nod towards the house.
“Is this to do with number 34? Look, I don’t know the guy. I guess at least you are in plain clothes this time. I don’t want hassle from him or his mates.”
The two men locked eyes, their gazes filled with uncertainty. The taller one, who was doing the speaking, glanced across the road in the direction Mike had nodded.
“I’m Detective Arden, this is Constable Thomas. We best come in.” Arden flashed his badge to Mike.
Mike twisted the key in the door, feeling the resistance before it finally gave way. His breath shook, revealing his nervousness. He couldn't help but feel a sense of despair at the thought of being branded a grass by his neighbours. The situation had the potential to become chaotic and unmanageable quickly. He picked up his bags, feeling the weight in his hands, and lifted them over the doorstep before setting them down inside.
“I can’t have the neighbours seeing you come in. If I get called out as a snitch, a grass… look, I get you need to do a job. Sure, everyone knows he’s a dealer. But I ain’t seen nothing. Really! I haven’t! I got no info for you guys. And it just becomes too risky having you visit our homes. These guys can make our lives difficult. Harassment, vandalism. The list goes on.” Mike widened his eyes as he spoke of his concerns.
“We are arresting you on suspicion of attempted murder. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be taken down as evidence and used against you. Do you understand?”
Mike turned around catching the serious expression on Arden’s face. His perplexed expression caused Mike's face to contort in confusion.
“What? Is this real? Who am I supposed to have murdered?” He spat out his laughter.
“We will ask you questions down at the station.” Said Detective Arden.
With a nod, he signalled for Mike to face the other way, simultaneously producing his handcuffs. Mike stood still, his mind in a whirlwind of shock and confusion. His heart raced, thumping against his ribcage as if it wanted to break free. As Arden showed the handcuffs, the neighbour's door across the road at number 34 swung open.
Leaning in the doorway, the neighbour crossed his arms and watched the scene unfold at Mike's house. Mike's mind was clouded with confusion and paranoia, making it difficult for him to think clearly. Caught between the watchful eyes of the drug dealer and the inconspicuous presence of the plain-clothed police, he felt an overwhelming sense of scrutiny.
With purpose, Constable Thomas strode towards the driver's door of the car, his hand gripping the door handle tightly. Mike remained still, his heart pounding in his chest, as Detective Arden tightly secured the handcuffs around his wrists. Mike's head drooped, a sign of defeat evident in his posture.
He was certain the drug dealer at number 34 was somehow involved in this. He just couldn't comprehend the intricacies or reasoning behind it. As he felt demoralised, his mind became consumed by a heavy, oppressive feeling. He desperately wanted to flee, but his legs refused to cooperate. He certainly couldn’t fight. There was nothing else for Mike to do except go along with them.
As Mike and Detective Arden approached the police car, the officer instinctively pushed Mike’s head down, holding it to prevent him from bumping his head. With a powerful thrust, he propelled Mike into the uncomfortable back seat of the car. Mike saw the police officer wave him over to the window, his expression stern. Mike awkwardly shifted his weight, attempting to squeeze onto the other side of the seat with his hands bound behind his back. Detective Arden got in the back with him, filling the car with a sense of authority.
Constable Thomas settled into the comfortable front seat. He contorted his body, swinging it over the chair to catch a glimpse of Mike. Looking at Mike with a critical eye, he offered a smile that conveyed his discontent. Detective Arden observed the subtle twitch in Mike's eyebrow, a sign of nervousness.
“I haven’t done anything. You’re accusing me of murder? I haven’t done anything. I wouldn’t murder anyone.”
Detective Arden looked away, his eyes fixed on a distant point, as Constable Thomas turned on the engine of the car. Mike glanced out the window and noticed his neighbours congregating outside, their voices filling the air. Pointing fingers, they huddled close, exchanging secretive whispers. At number 34, the drug dealer swiftly retrieved his phone from his pocket, eager to capture photos of Mike sitting handcuffed in the back of the police car.
Chapter 4
The interview room had a cold and bleak atmosphere, with its grey walls and minimal furnishings. Positioned against the wall, the laminated table showed signs of wear with a white stain and visible scratches. As he sat down opposite Mike, the brown fabric seats felt soft and familiar, anchored to the floor with screws like the table. Detective Arden’s piercing gaze fixed on Mike. Sitting alone, Mike's vulnerability was palpable as he rejected a solicitor. Arden surreptitiously shook his head as he accused Mike in front of him.
“We have reason to believe that you played a part in Rachel Lennon’s attempted murder.”
Detective Arden had been the one who had arrested Mike at his door. As they sat facing each other, Mike's eyes roamed over the detective's figure, his silence filling the room. Under normal circumstances, Mike would have a positive opinion of Detective Arden as a decent man. Arden, with his greying hair and gentle voice, was an older, softer-speaking man. However, instead of facing charges for a petty crime, Mike stared at the aging man who accused him of attempted murder.
He was being falsely accused of attempted murdering a woman he had no knowledge of.
“I don’t know a Rachel Lennon. I’ve never heard of that name until today.”
Arden stifled a laugh, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep it hidden from others. He had heard this explanation time and again. However, he was under strict orders from his superiors to apprehend Mike without fail. He couldn't grasp the reason behind Mike's framing in Rachel Lennon's attempted murder, but he had witnessed similar setups in the past.
To Arden's dismay, he had spent twenty years witnessing the police's increasing corruption and growing detachment from the public. In response, he conducted covert investigations into the police force and targeted certain individuals who caught his attention. With each revelation, he learned more about the dark underbelly of the system, where high-ranking and fast-promoted officers revelled in corruption. Through his private investigations, Arden had discovered retired officers who shared his concerns, as well as a few who were still active in the force. Constable Thomas was like a protege to Arden, who had taken him under his wing.
Arden had narrowly secured the job of apprehending Mike. Brimming with determination, the young Detective Jones, who had swiftly climbed the ranks, diligently readied herself for the job of arresting Mike. She had a reputation for her underhanded and unethical tactics. However, Arden, who had previously solved the infamous Basket Murders in the 90s, was well-versed in dealing with the mainstream media, making him the perfect candidate. This was especially important since Rachel's attempted murder had gained worldwide attention.
Arden let out a heavy sigh, the weight of guilt evident in his tired eyes, as he switched on the television screen to reveal the incriminating evidence against Mike. Mike furrowed his brow, attempting to decipher the fast-paced scenes in the video. As he sat watching, a wave of anger washed over him as he heard the woman passionately promoting the Cancer Cure injection as a vital aspect of healthcare. The woman was relentless in her push, her determination unwavering. Arden reached out and pressed the stop button, abruptly ending the video playback.
“Did you see what happened there?” Arden asked.
“Yeah. That woman I remember her in the park. She was pushing the lethal injections. So what of it?”
“Did you see what you did?”
Mike's head shook, a puzzled expression on his face. It escaped his attention that he was featured in the video's background. The woman’s constant push of vaccine health only distracted his mind.
“I didn’t see anything. I just heard her ranting about vaccines. ‘Bout how good they are.”
Arden's nod was deliberate and unhurried.
“Play it again, Dan.” he nodded to Constable Thomas, then his eyes turned to Mike. "Do not forget about what she is saying. Concentrate on yourself and what you’re doing.”
With a click of a button, Dan, the police officer, rewound the video, eager to review the footage. Arden tapped the table, making a sharp, rhythmic sound, to signal Dan to play the video. As Constable Thomas played the video again, Mike sat forward to concentrate. Arden watched him covertly, keeping him in the corner of his eye.
As the video played, Mike focused intently on every movement he made in the footage. He watched as he saw himself gazing up at the woman, her camera poised to capture the moment. His face was a look of disgust as he slowly stood up and followed the woman. While viewing the video, he observed himself intently tracking the woman's movements for a couple of minutes before deciding to walk away to the right. He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, his face betraying no hint of worry as he relaxed into his chair.
“There!” Arden abruptly spoke, pointing out Mike's sudden right turn in the video. “you suddenly leave. And you leave into the bushes. Our investigation of the area you entered has yielded valuable insights.” Arden’s eyes squinted as he focused on Mike’s facial expressions. “There is a trail through a wooded area. The trail leads right to the spot where Rachel Lennon was discovered, lying motionless and presumed deceased. Can you clarify the reason behind your decision to walk into those bushes? What compelled you to walk along that hidden wooded trail? Was it to position oneself ahead of Rachel Lennon?”
Mike's face wore a puzzled expression as he shook his head in disbelief.
“I took a piss! I went into the bushes to have a piss.”
Mike lowered his head into his arms, muffling the sound of his heavy sigh. He couldn't comprehend why he was being arrested for the attempted murder of an unfamiliar woman who had coincidentally been walking ahead of him, only to be discovered lifeless.
“You said I’m being arrested for attempted murder. You did not find this Rachael woman dead. But you accusing me of trying to murder her? What was it about her dead body that suggests it was attempted murder?”
Mike’s questioning took aback Arden. Arden himself wasn’t sure why there was an attempted murder investigation surrounding Rachel’s death. He would have treated it as a case of an unexplained fatality and conducted a thorough investigation. There were no visible bruises or any indications of physical harm inflicted by someone else. However, Rachel Lennon had amassed a considerable number of followers on social media. It wasn't an enormous crowd, but she still had a dedicated following of a couple of hundred thousand.
“When I was sitting on the bench, as that woman walked past, I was looking up articles of people who had died suddenly or unexpectedly. You know, unexplained deaths.” Arden’s eyes intensified at Mike’s facial expression. “There’s been a sudden uptick in those kinds of deaths. Do you know why?”
Arden stared back at Mike. He already knew that Mike was an anti-vaxxer. The police forces had received notice of Anti-vaxxers, who were being labeled as the newest breed of terrorists. Ideologically motivated, they had polarized the discussions around vaccination and healthcare, turning them into political extremes. They had been known to gather around health and vaccination centres, their presence alone intimidating and threatening those who worked there.
“Did you take a vaccine, Detective Arden?”
Arden grew increasingly uncomfortable with Mike's persistent questioning. It was Arden’s job to ask the questions.
“Did you hate the fact that Miss Lennon was encouraging her followers to take the vaccines?” Arden responded.
“We live in a free world, in a free society. We’re supposed to have freedom of speech. Listen up Detective, we have that freedom of speech so long as we aren’t encouraging people to cause harm to themselves or commit harm to others. I believe those who are encouraging people to inject themselves with an experimental injection are causing harm to them.
“So yeah, I do hate that kind of talk. Would I kill someone for that speech? Nah. I wouldn’t. At the end of the day, it is up to other people to have discernment.
“They need to use common sense. Otherwise, everything will become criminal but I suppose that’s a good situation for you coppers. Ain’t it now? There’ll be a lot of money in it for you. A lot of work.”
Arden's unbroken silence matched the unwavering intensity of Mike's gaze. He was all too familiar with the claims by the anti-vaxxers, who believed that the injections would result in widespread death. As Arden let out a slow breath, he could feel the tension leaving his body, and he shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. Mike's honesty flowed effortlessly from him, and Ardern couldn't help but appreciate him for it.
Arden understood his job was to carefully construct a false narrative around Mike. However, Arden now wanted to use this case, to gather more information on the corruption of the police. It was evident that Mike had thoroughly researched, which would greatly aid him in eliminating the corrupt elements within the system. He had to ensure Mike's safety while also orchestrating a scheme to implicate him.
That was going to be a daunting task, especially when all of them were aware of the pervasive stench of corruption within the police force. Mike, with his cocky demeanour, had the potential to drag them all into trouble. Arden leaned back in his chair, studying Mike with a discerning eye. Then, he made a quick side glance at Constable Thomas, trying to gauge his reaction. As he considered how he would deal with the situation, his face contorted in deep thought.
"Put him in the cell," Arden eventually said, his voice filled with authority.
Constable Thomas stood up from his seat and approached Mike, forcefully lifting him from the chair. Pushing Mike in front of him, they made their way to the door.
Chapter 5
Arden carefully carried two steaming cups of tea into the interview room. He carefully set a cup in front of Mike before taking a seat across from him. Mike looked around the room and its starkness gave it a clinical and unwelcoming atmosphere. His gaze was irresistibly pulled back to the cup of hot tea. He was glad of the hot drink brought to him. Mike’s hands moved languidly around the hot cup, relishing in the soothing heat that tingled his fingertips.
He savoured the taste of the drink before carefully setting the cup down on the table. Then, his gaze shifted from the warming cup to the coldness of Arden’s face.
“People made reports of the vaccines to the police, didn’t they? They reported them as a crime. After taking them, many people suffered injuries or fatalities. You had people bring in masses of paperwork to prove a crime had taken place. What did you do about that? Did you make arrests against the CEOs of those companies? Did you make arrests against those who were injecting other people with the lethal injections? Did you do anything? Or did you just sit on it? Too scared to rock the boat. Too scared of losing your job.”
Mike took another sip from his tea, savouring the warm, comforting taste, before placing the cup down thoughtfully on the table. Then he looked up at Arden, his eyes widening with sudden realisation.
“You never answered my question. Did you take it? Did you have it done? As a condition of your job? I bet you did.”
Mike’s constant questioning was wearing on Arden, leaving him increasingly irritated. Mike’s intense fixation was evident. Existing in a different realm, he held the belief that vaccines posed a mortal danger. Despite his fixation, Arden hesitated to label him as psychotic; he believed that there could be more to Mike than meets the eye.
Arden wanted to get back on track, probing Mike for answers about the suspected attempted murder. Arden still wasn’t sure it was an attempted murder. They instructed him to arrest and question the man who had followed Rachel Lennon in the park before she was found, believed to be dead, for her attempted murder. It was logical to interview witnesses to an unexplained death to gather more information.
However, those with power insisted that Mike had a more substantial role than just being a witness. Arden felt the weight of the pressure to act in underhanded ways. Those in senior positions were setting a scene, and every detail was being meticulously crafted to create a lifelike atmosphere. It seemed like they had a hidden agenda to incriminate Mike falsely.
Arden sat back in his chair, his arms defensively folded across his chest. As he did so, a sharp knock echoed through the interview room door. Constable Thomas came into the room and whispered something into Arden’s ear, his voice barely audible. Arden took a double take at Thomas, noticing the stern look on his face before he swung his body up from his chair.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Arden’s face turned crimson as he stormed towards the door of the interview room. He tightly gripped the door handle before quietly returning to the table, then reached for his drink. Then he turned abruptly and stormed out of the door, causing it to slam shut behind him. Mike’s lips pressed together tightly as his eyes locked on the other constable, who lingered in the same room.
“Oh dear. Something seems to be troubling Arden.” Mike smirked, “I hope it’s nothing too serious.....I hope it’s not a sudden death somewhere. Not another one.” Mike smirked as he raised his cup to the constable. “Cheers.” he grinned with a nod and a smirk.
***
In a fit of anger, Arden slammed his foot forcefully against the cupboard in his office.
“How did they find out so soon?”
“One of the neighbours videoed the arrest. They uploaded it to the Internet. It was grabbed by the media and reported on. The Vic has quite a following online as you know, whereas Mike is an unknown. The media has taken her into their arms. He also has a tiny following. Nothing by comparison to Rachel. His videos mainly feature groups of people delivering substantial research files to police stations, urging for arrests to be made. Sir, we're talking about conspiracy theorists. They refer to themselves as freedom fighters, but they demand arrests and jail time without any crime being committed. Like pre-crime.” Thomas snorted with laughter at the irony. “Anyway, these videos, they’re kind of like something called a reaction video I suppose.”
“Reaction video? Bloody hell. What are they?”
“Videos of people’s reactions to things, sir. Probably the so-called freedom fighters who are demanding pre-crime jail sentences are taking Michael out of the police, sir. Anyway, I found those files they handed over. They are on your desk, sir. Interesting. Certainly, they point out possible inside trading before the vaccines, but that’s about it, sir. Claims of possible harms, but no clear evidence to prove how or reasonable motive. Multiple scientists foresee various events unfolding, suggesting they are just possibilities, not probabilities. It’s all very alarmist really, sir.”
Thomas walked over to Arden’s wooden desk and tapped the large paper file. Arden picked up his reading glasses from his desk as he walked over to it. As he pushed them on, he flicked through the file quickly.
“This is a huge file. Lots of research done on it, it seems.”
Thomas nodded intensely. “Something you might find interesting sir, the media aren’t allowed to report on sudden or unexpected deaths anymore. There is an order for them to phrase it differently.”
”I see, so that might explain the pressure to find Michael guilty of attempted murder. And you know this for sure?”
As frustration consumed him, Arden shook his head in disbelief. He leaned with his back against the wall. It symbolically mirrored his emotions perfectly of feeling cornered with his back against the wall. He crossed his arms, creating a protective shield around himself. Frustration filled his breath as he exhaled heavily.
Thomas was feeling the frustration too, his brows furrowed in annoyance and confusion. He didn’t like the contradictions of the freedom fighters, nor those of the media. Arden saw his authentic yearning for justice when he joined the police force right after graduating and decided to guide him. He had advised Thomas on the scale of corruption.
“Becks called me and warned me. She saw you were on the case. She’s hoping you don’t bend.”
“Have you seen the articles Becks is writing? She contributes to the fire’s fuel. Thanks to her and her peers, the topic of vaccines is as controversial and sensitive as race, sexuality, and other touchy subjects. The absurdity here, though, is that the government protects vaccine products through hate speech, as if these products were humans experiencing emotional consequences of criticism. THEY’RE VACCINES, THEY DON’T HAVE EMOTIONS.” Arden yelled.
Colleagues outside Arden’s office lifted their heads as they fell silent. Thomas shuffled out the door, embarrassed, while Arden glared at him. Arden followed, glancing at his colleagues as they lowered their heads and returned to their work. All the people Arden encountered were in good health and happy. A few officers and ranking policemen decided to retire early because of the severity of the sudden onset of sicknesses. Despite this, everyone remained healthy after getting vaccinated.
It was undeniable that the vaccines had been pushed hard on the people. At the start, Arden himself had a lot of uncertainty about them. Initially hesitant, he was advised as a detective to view it as a display of responsibility. Rumour had it that a coworker got fired for saying no.
Among those who worked in the force, Arden was older than most. Unlike most of his peers, he accomplished paying off his mortgage. The sole motivation behind his decision to stay there was to seek out the corrupt. Thomas found himself in a completely different situation. Newly married, anticipating their first child, and juggling a hefty mortgage, he rolled up his sleeve for the shot, only to be informed he needed a booster.
The second injection left him feeling extremely dizzy and caused sickness that lasted a week. It was a type of sickness he had never encountered previously. He was sweating profusely and shaking and shivering. It was the first time in his 6-year career he had taken a week off work.
From his pocket, Arden retrieved his phone and began searching for newspaper articles about Mike's arrest for attempted murder. According to the newspaper, Mike was already being reported as a murderer and deemed guilty. Arden glanced at Thomas, who continued to shuffle away. Arden could feel panic bubbling inside. The journalist's name provoked a loud huff from him. Rebecca Norton.
Before discarding the paper cup, he finished his drink with a last sip. He made a sharp turn and stormed back to the interview room, where Mike was waiting for him.
“Becks hopes I won’t bend? She bent. I never bend.” As he muttered to himself, Arden thought back to how he felt coerced into taking the vaccine and accepted it. “I rarely bend.”
Chapter 6
Mike's eyes shot upward when Arden forcefully swung the door open and entered in a fury. Whatever had interrupted him and called him out of the room had left him fuming with anger when he returned. In an attempt to get comfortable, Mike shifted and fidgeted in his seat. The sight of Arden's flaring nostrils gave away his heavy breathing.
“Let’s get back to the video shall we?” Arden insisted firmly.
Mike shrugged nonchalantly and gave a slow, approving nod. Mike then looked up at the police officer, taking in the stern expression on his face, before nodding his head slightly with a sly smile. The police officer averted his gaze, his attention drawn towards the stark, colourless wall. A subtle smirk appeared on Mike's face as he stifled a laugh. Defiantly leaning back in his chair, Mike rested one foot on his knee and fixed his intense gaze on Arden.
“You gonna charge me, mate?” he asked in a knowing tone.
Ignoring Mike, Arden took charge and instructed the police officer to begin the video interview. As soon as the recording started, Arden could sense the tension in the room as he began questioning Mike about his beliefs surrounding the vaccine.
“You’re an anti-vaxxer, aren’t you Mike? Have you always been one?”
Might shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling with indifference.
“Nah. It’s a recent thing. I don’t like laws and rules being created, which coerce people into doing something they wouldn’t normally do… You know... Like getting injected with an experimental fluid.” Mike leaned forward over the table, placing his foot back on the floor. “Now, I would call that kind of threatening and coercion to be far more vaccine radical than my opposing it.”
Arden averted his eyes, intentionally avoiding any direct gaze with Mike as he answered. His words were moderate and sensible, devoid of any radical or extreme viewpoints. And Mike’s statement was correct. The individuals who were forcefully pressuring others to take the injections exhibited a much more extreme stance compared to those who were opposing it.
Just then, a loud commotion broke out in the corridor, echoing through the walls of the interview room. As if anticipating a captivating sight, Mike stretched his neck, straining to see what awaited him on the other side of the door. Arden looked up at the stern-faced officer, his eyes filled with both annoyance and curiosity.
“See what’s going on, will you Jefferies?”
Opening the door, the police officer's eyes darted to the right, then quickly shifted to the left, carefully surveying the corridor. Suddenly, a gasp escaped from his lips.
He urgently shouted, "Get the defibrillator!" as panic filled the air. With a sudden burst of energy, he bolted out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the hallways.
In shock, Arden stood up abruptly. He glanced over at Mike, trying to gauge his reaction.
"You stay right there," he commanded with a stern voice, his finger pointed directly at Mike.
Quietly, he made his way to the door, his breath held, and cautiously glanced outside, scanning the events taking place. Concerned voices filled the air as police officers gathered around a fellow officer sprawled on the floor in the corridor. From the opposite direction, Jeffries appeared, his face determined as he ran towards them with the defibrillator. Arden's horror-stricken eyes widened as he watched his colleagues desperately performing CPR on their fallen colleague.
“Someone phone an ambulance. Quick phone an ambulance.” Someone’s voice cried in horror.
Arden glanced over her shoulder, meeting Mike's gaze. Despite the noise around him, Mike remained seated in his chair at the desk, watching the door as officers ran past in horror. Mike's eyes met Arden's, and he could see a mixture of confusion and concern.
Arden took a nervous gulp before turning his gaze back down the corridor, where the commotion grew louder. His heart pounded in his chest, a feeling of helplessness washing over him as he watched everyone scramble to rescue his colleague. The room was filled with silence until Mike's voice shattered the stillness.
“Did you have to take the vaccine here?” Mike asked softly, acknowledging Arden’s despair in the chaos.
Arden's face suddenly contorted into a frown. He carefully observed Mike's expression, trying to discern any signs of gloating or mockery as he posed the question.
“You’re an idiot. You're the one who believes that heart attacks and illnesses only became prevalent after vaccines were introduced. Look at us all. We’re healthy, we’re fit and healthy. You’re the bloody idiot who thinks these illnesses and diseases only came because of the vaccine. They’ve existed forever.”
With anger fueling his actions, Arden abruptly stood up from his seat and made his way towards the door to check on his colleague. As he looked over, he saw the paramedics already tending to his colleague, their swift movements showing a sense of urgency. They had carefully placed him onto the stretcher and were swiftly maneuvering him through the bustling corridor. From a distance, the officer’s appearance indicated that he was not doing well physically.
The paramedics hurriedly pushed the stretcher, with the officer lying on it, towards Arden amidst the chaotic scene. Arden took a step further inside the doorway, making sure to clear the path for the paramedics. Upon seeing the officer obstructing the corridor, he promptly maneuvered them into the interview room, ensuring the paramedics had unobstructed access along the corridor. In a flurry of urgency, the paramedics rushed past Arden down the corridor, and for a split second, he saw the officer they were tending to.
Arden's breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on Thomas's motionless form on the stretcher, a wave of grief washing over him. In a wave of horror, he stumbled back into the interview room, desperately grabbing onto the wall for support. Arden involuntarily darted his gaze back to Mike once more as he saw his colleague being hurriedly whisked past him. His nostrils flared, and he could feel the rush of air entering his lungs, his breathing becoming heavy. He stood there, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.
Chapter 7
Arden entered the waiting area where he saw a woman sitting alone looking fearful.
“Rebecca?”
The woman looked up at Arden, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
“Arden? Are you Detective Arden?”
With a slow nod, Arden's attention remained fixed on the woman, whose head gradually sank downward. He scanned the area, hoping to spot a drinks vendor or any kind of establishment where he could provide some relief to the visibly distressed woman.
“Has anyone from the police station been to speak to you? About Thomas’s, sorry Neil’s cardiac arrest at the station?” Arden asked her as he slowly walked towards a vending machine. With tears streaming down her face, the woman could only shake her head and let out a sorrowful sob. As Arden walked back towards her, her sob grew louder, and he handed her two steaming hot drinks before sitting down beside her.
“We have a baby. We have a little baby together. This can’t happen to him. I need him. I love him. We both love him.” Rebecca sobbed into her hands, while Arden was unsure what to do. He handed her the hot cup of tea, and she took it from his hand.
“Thank you. I don’t understand.” She stared straight ahead, lost in deep contemplation, her eyes narrowing as thoughts flooded her mind. “My dad, my dad, thinks it was the vaccine.” Displaying her uncertainty, Rebecca shook her head silently, indicating she was unsure how to react to the accusation.
“He does?” Arden asked.
With her eyes closed, Rebecca nodded silently and rubbed her face with a hand, fear coursing through her as she admitted her words.
“Yes, yes, he does. In fact, he warned us both not to take it.”
“Did you take it as well, Rebecca?”
Rebecca nodded. “Yes, I did. I thought my dad was being stupid. You know, overprotective. I’m his only child.”
Arden inhaled deeply and nodded slowly. He could understand and relate to that. Even though he didn't have children, he could comprehend the anxieties of a father in such a situation.
“I think it is as well now.” Rebecca’s bottom lip trembles as she admitted her fears. “But if this was the case, then where does that leave me? And where does that leave our baby?”
Arden took another deep breath in. “We don’t know this to be true. And it likely isn’t true.”
“Arden, he is young. He passed all the fitness tests. And they are vigorous. What else could it be?”
“Well, did your dad take the vaccine?”
Rebecca shook her head, her momentary nervous laughter turned into sobbing once again. “He was diagnosed with terminal cancer a year ago. He didn’t take the vaccine because he thought they were lying that it was a cancer cure. He believed there was a conspiracy to kill off disabled people by encouraging desperate people to experiment with this new cure. To my dad, it felt like they were mocking him. So no, he didn’t take it.”
Arden felt uncomfortable, unable to think of a correct or ideal words to say to Rebecca. The waiting room turned silent for a moment.
“You’re on that case, aren’t you? With a young lad. The extremist anti-vaxxer as a media are calling him.”
“I can’t discuss it, Rebecca.”
“It seems strange, don’t you think? The media are out to get him. I mean, I was fully behind this vaccine. But it still seemed strange to me the way they chased after this lad.”
In a display of restraint, Arden refrained from discussing the case, opting instead to silently bite his lip and give a pensive nod in response to Rebecca's statement.
“I suppose it worried me that the police acted so aggressively towards that man because of my dad. You know, with him being an anti-vax himself. How is the law gonna come down on him, I wonder? I mean, he has terminal cancer.”
Once again, Arden slowly nodded as he digested Rebecca’s words.
“Where is the baby?” Arden asked Rebecca.
“I put him in the nursery.”
With a slow nod, Arden acknowledged Rebecca's words, his expression thoughtful and contemplative. Rebecca took a sip from her cup, and Arden mirrored her.
“My dad, well, he’s never been a fan of the public sector. He sees them as completely incompetent,” then Rebecca winced as she corrected her words, “Well, not so much incompetent, but they intend to cause harm. He became really ill after he’d been on medication. Not cancer-related, it was for something else. Anyway, he complained to his doctor, who just dismissed it. From that point on, he always called the public sector the protector of products and services, not the people.”
The weight of the comment settled on Arden, causing him to wince in acknowledgment. Through his own experiences, he had come to understand the profound level of corruption that existed within the police. He maintained his silence and nodded his head in a deliberate and measured manner, fully engrossed in Rebecca's words.
“If they are right, and these cancer cures are killers, then what hope do our children have? I keep imagining dying suddenly, and our baby being left by my side starved to death. But what about those who don’t die of starvation, those older than dependent toddlers? What happens to them? Tell me Arden, all those who didn’t take it, will get locked up? Just like that lad, you are trying to make an example of?”
As Rebecca bombarded him with questions, Arden simply shrugged, his mind racing as he pondered over each one with a deep sense of seriousness. Rebecca took another sip from her drink and once again, Arden mirrored her.
“I’m going to see the victim today, since I’m here at the hospital. She is still in a coma. I’m not sure if she’ll ever survive this.” Arden quickly gulped back the last bit of his drink before he stood up and faced Rebecca, who looked up back at him.
“I read that there are 5000 excess deaths every week right now. That’s a lot. And nobody is investigating why?”
Arden, maintaining their composed demeanour, responded to Rebecca's comment with a slow, silent nod before shrugging. He walked over to the bin with a slow, deliberate pace, and gently deposited his cup inside. From his pocket, he retrieved a pen and notepad. Using the lid of the bin as a makeshift writing surface, he quickly scribbled down some notes. Then, he tore off a piece of paper from the pad and crumpled it up in his hand. Walking back to Rebecca, he extended his hand, offering her the crumpled piece of paper.
“Call me. Anytime. It might all work out, but regardless of whether it does or doesn’t, don’t hesitate to call me. If you need me, I will be here. I will try to help.”
Just as he was about to leave, Arden's attention was drawn to a woman who had positioned herself by the doorway. As he took a double take, he immediately recognised her familiar face. Locking eyes with him, she flashed a sly smile, making him acutely aware of her presence.
“Detective Jones. What brings you here?”
“Arden,” the small woman responded with a nod and a serious voice, “I just here to check on Thomas’s wife.”
Arden reluctantly began to walk away, his steps faltering and hesitant, as the sound of Detective Jones's voice trailed behind him. Suddenly, he halted and spun around to face the detective.
“How long have you been standing there?”
He asked, his concern evident as he wondered how she would depict the conversation he had with Rebecca.
“Oh, long enough. By the way, are you going to Rachel Lennon? Because her parents are there, I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear.” The small woman, wearing a mischievous grin, posed her question.
“You visited Rachel?”
Jones's smile held a shrewdness as she shook her head, her lips curling into a knowing grin. “Not at all. I just happened to pass them while visiting here. But they did mention in passing that they are keen to see that lad locked up for what he has done. It looks like they’re about to turn off her life-support machine. Still, they will be donating her organs. I guess that is something, right? So, anyway, it looks like murder, doesn’t it?”
Without saying a word, Arden nodded in agreement with Jones, his expression solemn before asserting his authority. “This is my case, Jones.”
“We’ll see!” With a calculating expression, she responded before making her way to the waiting room to see Rebecca.
Chapter 8
Detective Jones casually strolled around her office, the sound of her phone conversation filling the room.
“I can raise concerns, but then those concerns need to be proven. So, I need a medical insider to ensure that happens. Do you have anyone?” Her trimmed fingernail tapped on the desk as she sought her answer.
As she listened to the person on the other end of the phone, her steps faltered. A brief flicker of disappointment crossed her face, her mouth tightening for a moment. “He remains on the case if you can’t get rid of him. You either take this option, or a criminal option. You don’t wanna be going down that path. So you need to get a medical placeholder in here quick.”
With a click, Jones turned off her phone and sank into the cushioned chair at her table. She angled her computer screen towards her while accessing files on the desktop. As she started to look through the files on Mike, she sucked in her breath and clicked her tongue in frustration. As she hesitated in her chair, her face twisted with indecision, her finger tapping the mouse in deep thought. Abruptly standing up from her chair, she briskly walked out of her office down the corridor towards the superintendent's office.
Confidently, she knocked on the door, the muffled sound of a conversation emanating from within the office. As she inched closer to the door, the sound of his voice grew louder, as he continued his conversation with the other person. As he spoke, Jones's impatience grew, causing her to forcefully knock on the door once more.
“What is it?” From inside his office, the superintendent's voice boomed with a yell.
With a gentle push, Jones slowly opened the door, the hinges protesting with a high-pitched squeak. She winced a smile, anticipation coursing through her veins, as she stepped inside.
"I apologise, Sir," she murmured, nibbling her bottom lip as a sign of deference. "I don't mean to interrupt your meeting, but I have something important that requires your attention, Sir." She glanced at the person seated across from the superintendent, silently seeking his understanding. Inspector Motas, a stern-looking man with a neatly trimmed moustache, gave a quick nod over to Jones and then the superintendent.
As Jones scanned the dark wood-panelled office, the antique decor caught her eye, adding a sense of history and sophistication. Her attention was drawn to the gentleman seated at the desk, his presence commanding and professional.
“Arden’s sick Sir. I’m very worried about him. It’s been a month since Thomas died and has been laid to rest, and honestly Sir, I think he is having a breakdown.”
As Jones saw the superintendent's brows furrow with confusion and objection, she braced herself and continued expressing her concerns. “He is struggling with what seems to be extreme paranoia and colleagues have been confiding in me, telling me it’s very difficult to work with him.”
As he watched Detective Jones, Inspector Motas leaned forward, his curiosity piqued by the expression of concern on the detective's face. When he glanced at the superintendent, he noticed the discomfort on his face as he shifted in his chair. Detective Jones continued, “They have confided in me about how it’s very difficult to trust his work and his ethics anymore, Sir.”
The superintendent wore a frown, his dissatisfaction evident as he let out a deep sigh. His attention turned to Inspector Motas, who shrugged again. His attention was once again captured by Detective Jones, who continued to express her concerns.
“If I could be so bold, Sir, might I suggest a medical be given to Detective Arden?”
Now standing at attention, Jones kept her hands locked behind her back in a show of discipline. When she turned her gaze towards Inspector Motas, he shrugged back and nodded in agreement.
“Exactly what is bothering you specifically with Arden?” Asked Inspector Motas, shaking his head slightly.
“I heard him speaking to Thomas’s wife, Rebecca. He was very much taken with fanatical conspiracy theories. He has a strong bias, it would seem, with an anti-vaccine outlook. And he said that he was going to be chasing after the corporations, teaching them a lesson.”
The superintendent's reaction was immediate as he thrust himself back into his seat, clearly disturbed by what he had just heard. Detective Motas raised his eyebrows in surprise before voicing his own concerns.
“This is a high-profile case,” he responded. With a quick glance, Detective Jones acknowledged him with a subtle nod.
“He appears to have taken Thomas’s death badly. He took Thomas under his wing, Sir. This turn of events has made him paranoid and quite radical. I am concerned about his working on the case of Michael Smith’s case and that he has expressed a desire for revenge against the corporations. This incident regarding Thomas appears to have led him down the path of having a breakdown.”
Uncomfortably, the superintendent and Inspector Motas locked eyes, their expressions revealing their unease. They both knew the police force direly needed more funding. The last thing they wanted was for any allegations to surface and damage the reputation of the force. With determination in her eyes, Detective Jones pressed on with her appeal.
“And at the very least, Sir you have a duty here, to make sure that if that is the case that he is having a breakdown, then you give him leave so that he can recover and recuperate. Not just for his mental health, but for his colleagues who may feel pressured.”
Jones's sudden mention of the superintendent's legal duty caught everyone off guard. He blinked rapidly, his eyebrows shooting up, and he instinctively moved back in his seat. Inspector Motas also reacted with a stunned expression, before ultimately giving a subtle nod. With worry clear in her superiors' expressions, Detective Jones remained steadfast, knowing her appeal would bring about the desired outcome.
”And if his colleagues are noticing problems with him and his health, then I would suggest that you need to take those concerns seriously. You have a legal duty to do that, Sir.”
Inspector Motas shifted his gaze to the superintendent, his eyes narrowing. Stunned and bewildered, the superintendent struggled to make sense of what he had just been told. His mind was filled with a flurry of thoughts, each one accompanied by a question about the legalities of the situation. Then his eyes shifted to Detective Motas, who was a witness to Detective Jones’s concerns. He couldn’t afford to make an error on this high-profile case.
“Right. "I will get someone on it," the superintendent responded promptly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Might I suggest you offer him leave right now sir?” Jones interrupted the superintendent.
“We have no one else on the case that he is doing right now...”
“I would take it. I could deal with the media's attention around it. Plus, sir, it is no use only having one detective who has had experience with the media. I need to gain some experience and I believe that I would be good in that position,” Jones interrupted once again.
The superintendent narrowed his eyes as Jones once again interrupted him. As stress consumed him, his face contorted, and his mouth and jaw clenched tightly. Intrigued by Jones's insolence towards the superintendent, Inspector Motas watched with fascination.
“...and although we can offer leave, without any medical evidence we can’t force him to take leave. And if he declines, he will continue on the case.” The superintendent spoke loudly and abruptly, clearly frustrated by Jones’s interruptions.
“Understood, Sir.” Detective Jones nodded to the two men and then left the room. Silently, Inspector Motas glanced at the superintendent, noticing how his eyes never left Jones as she made her way out. As if awakening from a trance, he shook his head lightly, regaining his focus. The superintendent's gaze shifted towards Inspector Motas.
“Where were we?” asked the superintendent.
“Have you noticed any difference in Arden?” Asked Inspector Motas.
“Nothing noteworthy, but then Jones has more interactions with him than I do. I trust her judgment. Do you?” Asked the superintendent.
“I’ve only seen good work coming from Arden. Even with the shock loss of Thomas.”
“Well, there’s no harm in offering him some leave and providing a medical. Is there?” Looking ahead, the superintendent fixed his gaze on the inspector, his expression unreadable.
“It seems like a fair idea, Sir.”
Chapter 9
“Thanks, Arden,” Rebecca said, opening the door to Arden, who stood there, his eyes fixed on the ground with a morbid expression. As she swung the door open, Arden strolled into the hallway, his presence filling the space with a solemn air. He swiftly took off his shoes, eager to make himself comfortable.
Rebecca led him to the first door, which creaked open to reveal a cosy living room. Arden noticed her baby crawling around in the baby pen next to her cream sofa, picking up and dropping soft toys. A smile broke across Arden's face, replacing the sombre expression he had been wearing. He looked up, his eyes meeting Rebecca's gaze.
“He looks great. You both do. You are doing a fantastic job, Rebecca.” He praised with a reassuring nod.
“Thanks, Arden. It hasn’t been easy. I still find myself breaking down into tears. And it gets worse when I lose my patience with him. I try not to do that. I try to be understanding. But it’s been tough since my dad died, also.”
Arden's lips tightened, his voice filled with genuine sympathy as he said, "I'm sorry to hear about that, Rebecca."
Unsure of whether to say any more about her feelings on the matter, Rebecca swiftly shifted the conversation to a different topic.
“I’ll get the tea and cake sorted and then we need to discuss what’s going on with you. Make yourself at home and hopefully, you can keep baby Mickey entertained.”
Arden raised his eyebrows with surprise, “You called him Mickey? Why did you choose that name?”
“My thoughts of being with that lad who’s being set up. He’s become quite a martyr in my mind. We’ll discuss that a little more when I finish making the tea,” Rebecca said as she walked out of the living room door and back into the hallway.
Arden couldn't help but feel uneasy as he watched Mickey relentlessly dribble over his toys. Observing the baby's play, Arden deliberately positioned himself at the farthest corner of the sofa, creating as much space as he could between them. As he sat silently observing him, his eyes continued to gaze over every tiny detail of the baby. Suddenly, Mickey froze in place, his face turning a brief shade of crimson.
As Mickey started to cry, his eyes shifted towards Arden, silently pleading for comfort. Arden watched on uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the awkward silence, and then anxiously glanced towards the living room door, hoping for Rebecca's swift return. Returning his gaze to Mickey, he was taken aback by the intensity of his screams and the sound of his desperate cries. As Arden turned his gaze back to the door in hopes of Rebecca returning, the piercing sound of Mickey's screams intensified.
“Be quiet Mickey. Shush now. Don’t cry.” Arden's voice was gentle as he pleaded with the baby to stop crying, his own body pressed tightly against the corner of the sofa. Suddenly, an unpleasant odor wafted through the air, alerting him to the fact that Mickey needed a nappy change. “Oh no. No. Mickey, no. I don’t know what to do, Mickey. I’ve never done this before.”
Once again, Arden's focus shifted towards the door, drawn by the clattering sounds emanating from the kitchen. He realised Rebecca had no intention of returning to the living room to handle Mickey. Arden's eyes scanned the room until they landed on a packet of nappies, standing out amidst the clutter. He grimaced and let out a low grunt as he heaved himself up from the sofa. He reached for a nappy from the packet and grabbed the wet wipes sitting beside it.
“Right. Come here, Mickey. Let’s see what I can do with you.” Arden said as he picked Mickey out of his playpen and lay him across his lap as he sat down on the sofa. “I guess you’ve just eaten, hey Mickey?”
As Arden removed the dirty nappy, a look of disgust crossed his face, and he quickly finished cleaning up Mickey. As he loosely secured a fresh nappy onto Mickey and returned him to his playpen, Rebecca walked into the room, balancing a tray with a steaming teapot and two cups, along with saucers adorned with slices of cake.
“You two getting on, okay?” Rebecca asked as she placed the tray on the coffee table next to where Arden had been sitting previously.
“Yes well, I may need to wash my hands. Mickey offered me a parcel to clear up.”
Rebecca couldn't help but let out a mischievous smirk, followed by a hearty laugh. “And would that have been your first time dealing with such a parcel Arden?" Still smirking her smile, Rebecca asked, her eyes glinting mischievously.
Arden’s face remained stoic as he said, “There’s a first time for everything, I guess,”
Rebecca gestured outside of the door, “The kitchen is the next door on the right. You can wash your hands there.” She said with a little giggle.
As Arden walked to the kitchen, he noticed framed photos of Constable Thomas placed by the sink and scattered throughout the hallway. A soft, empathetic sigh escaped him, barely audible but full of understanding. He washed his hands meticulously; the water running over his fingers and down the drain. Once dry, he made his way back to the living room, where Mickey and Rebecca awaited. With caution, he settled himself back onto the sofa, ensuring he was as far away from the playpen as he could be.
“So you’re on leave? Are you getting paid?” Rebecca asked Arden.
“Yeah, I’m getting paid. But regardless of whether I return now, I will be taken off the case. I also know Detective Jones appears to be setting me up so that I am offered early retirement. She seems to have raised a concern over my mental health.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows in disbelief, her eyes widening at the extreme lengths Detective Jones was willing to go to take over the case. As Arden continued speaking, she remained quiet, her lips sealed.
“It's possible Neil informed you about my intense skepticism towards certain individuals in the police force.”
Rebecca nodded, her lips pressed together in a tight line, her silence speaking volumes. Working alongside Arden, Neil admired his commitment to upholding honesty and integrity within the police force. The disintegration of integrity and honesty within the force was a driving factor behind Neil's desire to join. With good intentions, he aimed to restore the respect he believed it was worthy of.
“So I guess Michael will end up in prison for Rachel’s murder?” Rebecca shook her head disapprovingly as she asked.
“I expect that will be the case. But once I retire, I will gain a little more freedom to see Michael in prison. I have also been receiving some letters of support from the most unexpected people.”
With a flicker of intrigue, Rebecca arched her eyebrows. “Tell me more.”
Some prison guards went to the extent of forging their health certificates, claiming they had received vaccinations. And as a consequence of the mandates, some others are retaliating, expressing their discontent.
As Rebecca smiled, her lips curved into a broader grin, radiating her delight. “Wow. Do you think people are rising, Arden?”
“I don’t know about people in general rising. I’m not so sure it’s a rising, not yet at least. But there are small pockets of people who care about the truth and who wish to oppose the corruption. I’m just not sure how we’re going to do it yet,” Arden stated, as he looked seriously at Rebecca.
“How are you feeling about everything, Rebecca? Are you still worried? Are you feeling better about it all now? It’s been a couple of months. Are you feeling confident that these vaccines were safe? Perhaps it was just a coincidence?”
In response to Arden's suggestions and questions, Rebecca vehemently shook her head. “Absolutely not. Something is going on. Neil wasn’t supposed to die this young. It should have been Neil changing Mickey’s nappy today, not you.”
Arden nodded with understanding, “Okay if you are concerned about these side effects, what are you planning to do about it?”
Rebecca glanced around the room as she drank her tea, peering over her cup. Her mind raced with possibilities, causing her to retreat into a momentary silence as she considered her choices. “Arden, you were my husband’s mentor. He thought so highly of you. And while you have lost him as your pupil, you have gained another one in me.”
Emotion washed over Rebecca's face as she spoke, her voice quivering with raw vulnerability. As a result, Arden felt his eyes begin to fill with tears. Swiftly, he redirected his gaze to the coffee table, concealing his true emotions from Rebecca's eyes. Holding the cake-filled plate, he brought it to his mouth, took a bite, and felt a tear trickle down his cheek.
Determined to maintain his composure, he blinked rapidly, refusing to let any more tears escape. When he finally believed he had overcome his sadness, he lifted his eyes to Rebecca and was taken aback by the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry for crying. I’m at a loss as to what to do now. I know Neil absolutely trusted you. "And I trusted Neil," Rebecca coughed out, her voice filled with lingering upset, before she took a moment to regain her composure. “Whatever these little pockets of uprising are, then I want to join you in your opposition. If only to protect Mickey and his future. What do you foresee happening about this with these uprisings? Or what do you want to happen?”
An uncomfortable sigh escaped from Arden's lips. He hesitated, knowing that what he was about to say would challenge his entire belief system. “I want to make sure that Michael doesn’t remain in prison when he is innocent and being set up.”
Rebecca shook her head in confusion. “Do you think that you can stop him from going to prison? The most corrupt want to make an example of him.”
As Arden pondered his answer, he furrowed his brow and squinted one eye, searching for the right words to articulate his thoughts.
“I’m saying he won’t stay in prison. I’m certain he will go to prison. But he won’t remain there for long if I have anything to do with it.”
With a smirk, Rebecca brought her cup to her lips. The room was filled with a comfortable silence as they consumed their cake and sipped their tea while contemplating how they would free Michael Smith.