Grayson

Part 1

    Thirty-eight-year-old Laurie Talber sat at a long gray desk in the police office, eyes scanning.  He was a retired army man—discharged from the RAF—and was a great help to the police force in the tiny town of Lockleen.  He looked down at a piece of paper in front of him that was covered in typed writing and sighed once again.

     Laurie had been born and bred in northern Scotland—Scotland was in Lauries blood and try as he might, he found he could not be happy anywhere else.  After his parents deaths he had joined the RAF for which he had been training and had made a name for himself in his corps for his chivalry, bravado, and affability. The men had loved him yes, people had always loved him. He was always easy going, approachable and rarely broody, although it would have suited his face.  He had a high brow, piercing blue eyes, full mouth, and broad shoulders, all topped off with deep chestnut curls. In many ways he seemed like a perfect specimen for brooding.  When people saw him in passing, they often thought he looked haughty because he seemed to brood over the street, over his food at a restaurant, or at the wheel—but when you spoke one word with him you were caught up in him.  His smile was contagious.  It was an eye crinkling, laughing sort of smile that made you think of love and comfortable home.  Therefore, people loved him; he was like a warm fire and something mug-ish to drink.

    When he had returned to his small highland town, he had been hired to train the police force there, which was—questionable, to say the least.  With a police background pre-military, he got the boys going a bit until a change in leadership got them the educator they needed. The new chief, Walter McLean, had grown up near Laurie and loved him.  Walter was about thirty-two with hair that was unusually blonde for his age.  About five times a week Laurie and he would either talk on the phone or bump round to the pub; they were nearly inseparable. On the rare occasions that a serious case would come up for investigating, Walter would confide deeply in Laurie, asking his opinion on many details.

    Thats why he had dragged Laurie to the station today. In a town of no more that twelve hundred people, Walters jurisdiction was chief, and although there were always drug busts and off and on suicides, rarely were there any other form of contention.

    "See that? We dont know shit on her." Walter collapsed in a chair beside him, hand propped under his clean-shaven chin, eyes searching Lauries face as he read.

    "Eh" Laurie sat back, running his tongue around his lips. "Whats her name then?"

    "Willow, she says." Walter put his elbows on the table, one hand in his hair,

    "Last name?"

    "I dunno."

    "Hm." Laurie furrowed his brow.

    "All she said is shes looking for er husband."

   "Husband?" Laurie said in surprise. He glanced down again; brow furrowed. "It says she looks nineteen?"

   "Aye but shes married."

    "She was stealing?"

    "Aye, but she put it back! What am I supposed to do?"

    "Call in her husband 'spose." Laurie bit his lower lip. "Tell you what, you got her here?"

    "Yeh." Walter stretched.

    " 'I talk to her?"

    "Yeah sure."

    Walter led the way to a room down the hall from the conference room they'd been in. "Shes in here."

    Laurie followed Walter into a little room with a small table and two chairs. A girl sat in the chair facing the door, clothes a mess and eyes dull. She had marks on her like she had been slammed into a wall over and over, bruises on her wrists and arms, dim scars on her face, and a pained expression.