I'll Protect You

Chapter 1

Tom's heels clicked on the floor as he walked down the hallway of the police office. His uniform was clean, not a mark on it. He was new and ready to prove himself to the rest of the police force. He turned the corner to stand behind Jerry, who was muttering to himself, as usual.

"Anything new?" Tom asked, eyes scanning the screen. Madeline walked up behind him, the top police officer in the system.

"There is actually," she said, voice full of power and authority, "a man was murdered yesterday in his own apartment. We only have one lead. A younger man was seen to have been arguing with him, and we've already identified who it is and his family does have a history of violence."

"How so?" Tom asked, and Jerry pulled up a screen on his laptop. It was a newspaper segment from years ago. There are several grainy pictures of blood and there is one of a happy family, a slender mum with a larger husband and two kids. Across the top of the page are the words 'Man kills his family to help abused brother,' and Tom figures it out instantly.

"Henry Peterson's younger brother," is all Madeline says, as if the images needed explanation. Everyone knew of the horrific murder of the Peterson family. The world had been shocked to find out what happened to the heir of the vast company that the Peterson family owned. Nobody was more surprised, however, then the police officers that day. Madeline had been unfortunate enough to have to turn up at the house. The stench of death was everywhere, sneaking into the walls and through the door. She pushed open the door to see Henry cradling his brother, who was holding a phone in his limp hands. Everyone assumed Oliver was dead. Henry had clung to his brother and refused to let go. Many officers got wounds from where Henry had lashed out, Madeline has a large scar going down her arm.

When they got Henry into the cop car, Oliver woke up, eyes blinking at the flashing lights that the ambulance had on display. The doctors checked him for injuries and were surprised to find none. The murders were the talk of the world for months, and Oliver's grandmother kept him out of the media for as long as possible.

"Are you sure it's him?" Jerry asks, eyes flitting to the youngest member of the family. Oliver did look innocent in the photo, and he was an adorable child.

"It's the only lead we have, might as well follow it up," Madeline says, before turning and walking away, Tom following her.

——

When the car pulled up in front of Oliver's house, Tom felt overwhelmed. The house itself could be called a mansion, not to mention the two beside.

"Oliver inherited the house from his Grandmother when she died," Madeline explained, opening the car door and stepping out.

"Was the death treated as suspicious?" Tom asked, following her example. Madeline shook her head and continued to march up to the front door. She knocked on the door, and seconds later a young man came out. He was holding a bucket of water at his hip.

"Oh hello Officers, I was just on my way to Florence's house. I was going to water the flowers for her while she's in Europe," Oliver said, nearly sidestepping to go and tip the bucket gently over the fence.

"Such a dear boy!" Tom and Madeline heard from the other neighbour. An old man stood there, wielding a walking stick. "Just like my dear Olivia!" He continued, before resting a hand over his heart, "my dear, dear Olivia, rest in peace." He said it as if the death was recent, but Madeline was sure it wasn't.

"Don't work yourself up, Mr. Dunkson, do you want me to help you with your exercises this afternoon?" Oliver asked bringing the bucket back to his door and dumping it there.

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Oliver!" Mr. Dunkson exclaimed, hobbling back inside. He turned as he reached the door though, and pointed at the officers. "Don't know why you're here," he said, "that boy never done anything bad his entire life." With that, he went inside.

"Sorry about Mr. Dunkson," Oliver said, coming to stand in front of the officers. He was shorter than both of them and had to look up. It gave the officers a burst of confidence.

"We're here about a recent murder and we would like you to come with us," Tom said, mentally cheering for himself as he didn't stutter. Madeline gave a small nod to his success.

"Oh, okay then," Oliver said, his bright smile replaced with a frown. "I'm a suspect right? I mean it's only natural it runs in the family," he murmured, half talking to himself. Madeline placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," she told him, "once we interview you I'm sure that we can cross you off our list." Oliver's smile returned, and he followed the two officers into the police car without another complaint or issue.

——

"You think I killed him?" Oliver's asks, eyeing photos from the argument they had the other day. "We merely bumped into each other. I accidentally spilled my drink and he was very displeased." Oliver slid the photos back to Jerry and Madeline, the ones interrogating him. Tom was behind the one-way glass, watching everything with rapt attention.

"You did seem very distraught afterward, and very angry at him. It's reason enough for you to murder Ivan Handle," Madeline says, each word measured and level, "we've seen it in other cases, one single act sends them over the edge. Maybe you were having a bad day, or life just seemed too unfair. Maybe you just wanted to hurt another person the same way you were hurt in your childhood."

"Please don't bring my family into this. I've tried to distance myself as far as possible from my parents, and my visits with my brother are far from diabolical. Besides, I never touched Mr. Handle after bumping into him. I swear," Oliver says, eyes on the table in front of him, obviously uncomfortable.

"So you didn't do this?" Jerry asks, sliding photos of the crime scene to Oliver. Immediately the younger man blanches, face paling and hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"Oh god," he murmurs, eyes coming up to meet the officer's, "that's horrific." It truly is horrific. Ivan Handle sits up on a chair but leaning to one side. There are cuts all over his body, three slashes parallel to one another on his neck, finally putting Mr. Handle out of his misery, or agony as the case seems to be. His eyes and tongue have been ripped out, along with chunks of flesh that have been pulled off his body, whether pre or post-mortem Oliver can't tell. He shudders, a tingling feeling happening wherever he sees the cuts on the other. Oliver slides the photo back with a shaking hand. He stands up, wobbling and looking close to fainting. Immediately the two officers are up as well.

"Are you okay Oliver?" Madeline asks, coming up to touch his shoulder. He flinches away at the contact but otherwise remains still. Madeline retracts her hand, taking it away from the frightened suspect.

"Can I go home now?" He asks, voice small and childish. He curls further into himself. Trying to make himself as small as physically possible. Madeleine nods, but Oliver can't see it as his eyes are glued to his feet.

"Yes, of course," Jerry says, gently taking Oliver's hand. The younger flinches at the contact but doesn't pull away. Jerry nods to Madeleine, before gently leading Oliver out of the room. Tom sighs as they leave, and waits for Madeleine to come into the viewing box.

"I don't think he did it," Tom says once the elder cop enters, "he seemed honestly surprised at the pictures."

"Could just be great at acting, or shocked at the pictures of what he did," Madeleine says, eyes flicking into the interrogation area, "we've seen it before."

"I'm pretty sure he wasn't acting," Tom replies, before positively shrinking under Madeleine's harsh gaze.

"If you can't say for certain, keep your mind open," is all she says before looking away. They stay in silence until Jerry comes back.

"He went out okay, he's driving himself home. I don't know if he'll make it home though. He was shaking," he says, gathering the papers from the table. Madeleine nods and walks out of the room. Tom glances over at Jerry, who was looking at Madeleine as she left.

"Are you two-"

"Nope," Jerry said, cutting Tom off.

"Okay," Tom replied, shrugging and turning away. He grabbed the pictures of the crime scene before leaving.