Bonus Chapter - Boss Man

“But he really did it,” the teenage girl cried, her face streaked with tears.

The police officer watched her, his face a mask like it had been carved out of stone, not betraying the tumult in his head.

“Young lady,” he said, trying to keep a professional tone. “I was your age once, too. I know how hard it is to deal with parents at that age. Yet this is no reason to try and get them arrested on trumped-up charges. I would suggest you talk to the counsellor at your school. They are better equipped to handle your issues.”

The girl didn’t respond, her sobbing having become uncontrollable. The officer made a fist behind the counter, his short nails digging into his palm hard. He did believe her. He believed every word she had said. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen, to the police file it showed. Pages of reports the girl had filed over the last two years. More and more pages of “investigations”, all clearing her father, his boss. There even was a psychological report on the girl, stating she had a victim complex.

Yet it all stunk to the heavens. All the documents had the same four names show up over and over again, all friends of the Chief Constable. That might not be publicly known, bet he hadn’t served on the force for nearly thirty years right in the city centre without hearing things.

“Miss, please talk to your counsellor. They can help you. Showing up at police stations around Merseyside will gain you nothing but a stern talking from your father. You’d have to go to Manchester for someone to even listen to you.” Would she take the hint? He really hoped so. His bodycam was rolling, and alone with an underage girl in the room, he couldn’t dare to turn it off.

“Your father will be here to pick you up soon,” he said. “If you want to clean up, the ladies’ room is down the corridor. It’s supposed to be pretty nice, I’ve heard.” It also had big posters with the contact info of the women’s shelter, the numbers for the domestic violence helpline and the national crime report hotline. The latter would connect her to an officer in London, who wouldn’t take “all’s fine” as an answer and had nothing to fear from the chief.

He went back to his computer and opened the report he had started. After filling in the last details, he set the status to “closed” with the remark, “Upon advice from the accused, Chief Constable of Merseyside Police Peter O’Brian, no action has been taken. Victim was advised to seek help with school counselling”. The closing remark wouldn’t show up when merely browsing the girl’s file, as it was intended for technical remarks, not case-related data. But if this ever blew up, he could point to it. And if not, the chief hopefully wouldn’t hang him for it. Knotting a rope for that from thirty years of reports with some fake evidence sprinkled in would be easy.

Then he glanced at the birthday on file. For god’s sake, that girl was thirteen and had been reporting it for two years. Who knew for how long this had been going on? He went back and forth in his head, contemplating risking it in the hope he could get a proper investigation running. Then he had an idea.

“One more thing, miss O’Brian,” he said. The girl had calmed down a bit and looked up. “You have requested a rape kit, so I have to assume you had sex recently, presumably with your boyfriend. It isn’t my business, but please take my advice and make sure to use protection. Getting pregnant at your age isn’t worth it. Your body isn’t yet developed far enough to bring a baby to term, and getting an abortion at your age comes with a whole slew of work for everyone afterwards. I think they even do DNA testing to find the father nowadays…”

The last sentence was bullshit, even if they tested the fetus, you couldn’t mass-test every male in the city to find the father. That was, unless she pointed her finger at a specific person or told them you’d do that…

The girl nodded, a shimmer of hope on her face.