2022-01-02 - I Had a Dream

The day after New Year's is always a little hectic around here. Holding cells full of drunken revelers and bad decision makers need to be emptied out, paperwork needs to be filed, and the machine that is the GHPD must be kept chugging along.

The person ostensibly in charge of making sure shit gets done with due process is one Javier de la Vega, Chief of Police. Or so says the nameplate on his door, which is currently open. The man himself is slouched in his chair, about to take a bite out of a donut he's been waiting all afternoon to enjoy. Because apparently the DA decided he was more important than the Chief's blood sugar levels.

Before the Chief can indulge in his donut, there comes a knock from the open door. There, standing at the threshold, is a woman in a stark black and white suit. She looks like she could've just stepped out of a black and white television set, if not for the pair of piercing blue eyes that are currently surveying the man sat at his desk.
Her mouth curves into a polite smile. "Chief Vega? Am I pronouncing that correctly?" she asks, still having not step one foot into the room. She swiftly reaches into the inner folds of her jacket, and removes a thin leather wallet that she holds up, open, for Javier to see. It's an FBI identification card, with a carefully maintained badge beside it. "I'm Special Agent Dyres. This," she beckons to the woman beside her, "is Special Agent Castillo." The badge goes back into its home inside her jacket, and she clasps her hands behind her back. "Apologies for the poor timing. I can imagine that today of all days has been very busy for you. Do you mind if we come in?"

In a similar, practiced motion, the shorter woman shows her own badge in unison with the other agent. Her eyes scan the room, and linger for a second on the donut waiting to be eaten. She makes note of the choice of topping before she takes her thick coat off, hanging it on her arm as she gives the man a trained smile.

"Yes..." she says idly, glancing over at her partner. "Unresolved Cases Branch," she adds.

The donut sits there, poised between his fingers, before being dropped into the paper plate from whence it came, with an irritated grumble from the cop. It's a boston cream, to be precise. He licks the icing off his fingers, dark eyes going from Dorothy's face, to the badges being flashed at him, and back again. There's a little tick of muscle in his jaw. Feds are probably not on his top ten list of favourite people, but they already knew that. Didn't they?

After a painful few seconds' worth of silence, "Sure, why not. Be my fucking guest." The uncomfortable looking chairs on the other side of his desk are gestured to, and his laptop case is shut with a click. As to his name, he points out gruffly, "It's de la Vega."

At that beckon, Dorothy swiftly moves into the room with the practiced grace of someone that has been beckoned into a thousand offices, and is duly aware of the standard song and dance of such conduct. "Thank you, Chief de la Vega," she says, correcting her previous mispronunciation. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, she crosses one leg over the other, and clasps her hands in her lap. "Of course, I shall keep it brief. As my partner has pointed out, we are agents of the unresolved cases branch of the FBI. As you can imagine, having stacks of cases without definitive answers doesn't look great for the Bureau, so we've come to you today hoping for your help in ensuring that some of those unresolved cases become, well... resolved."

She leans forward for the next part, and smiles: "So, as not to beat around the bush, we'd like access to your cold case records. We have a few of our own open investigations that have brought us to your delightful town, but well, I've always been taught that efficiency is key. So why not dig up some of those dusty old files of yours while we're at it, and see if we can lend a hand? The more curious and outlandish and, inextricably, the colder the case, the more interested we are. You could say it's a personal interest of ours."

Dorothy motions to Sadie, "It'll also help Agent Castillo find her feet with a few good challenging mysteries." She smiles wanly. "Between you and me, I'm hoping she'll become something of a protégé. How promising the youth is, these days."

Doing her best to disregard the unprofessional nature of the Chief of Police's response, Sadie steps inside as well, opting to lean against the back wall. She continues to survey the room as her associate speaks in an attempt to glean any insight into the man who inhabits it. She nods as her name's mentioned, and turns her attention back to the de la Vega. "As personal an interest as our line of duty allows," she corrects. "We have standards, after all."

"But Special Agent Dyres is right. We all want the same thing here, so clearly cooperation is the better option. We'd offer to lend our help in return, but your officers seem plenty capable. Still, if the need ever arises..." she says, trailing off as she procures an embossed card from her coat pocket. She takes an exploratory couple of steps forward to the desk, and places it down firmly. The design of the card is utilitarian, with the strict purpose of showing the direct line to the branch's head office. The only two names listed on it are the names of the two agents.

Not much in here is of a personal bent, or gives a whole lot of insight into the man who was field promoted to Chief after Clarence Thatchery was murdered. There's a stuffed bear on his desk holding a Mexican flag with Feliz 48 cumpleaños! written on it. A few overstuffed filing cabinets, an empty cup that probably held coffee at some point, sitting beside his uneaten donut. And a potted cactus on the window ledge overlooking the impound lot. The plant's probably seen better days, though the cop seems to keep himself in fairly good shape for a guy who drives a desk most days.

His bulky frame, today, is sporting civilian attire: a faded tee shirt and snug black jeans, with a locked holster for his service weapon: a Sig P226. The guy's arms are covered in tattoos, and more of the same is barely visible under the collar of his tee shirt. If they've read his file by now, they're well aware that he did a stint in undercover work with drug cartels in Portland. Nasty business, that.

"Now why would two fine agents such as yourselves want to get involved in the problems of a shithole town like this?" The talk of mysteries and protégés is ignored, though he does spare a brief once-over for Sadie when she speaks, and wordlessly reaches for the card she pushes over. "Sure you've got better things to do with your time."

"I had a dream." It's all Dorothy says for a moment as she lets it hang in the air. Sadie has probably heard the dream speech a few times. She raises both her hands, and moves them apart slowly in front of her, as if transporting the Chief into this dream realm she is about to describe. "A placid lake amidst tall trees. I step to the water's edge. As I kneel down, I see pale faces beneath the water's surface. Still. Unmoving. Deceased. Their skin is unnaturally gray. I don't know these people." She gives another dramatic pause, "A strong wind diverts my attention: an unnatural wind, it doesn't move the grass nor the leaves of the trees, but I hear them rustling. I turn my eyes to the trees and notice that I'm in a mixed forest: deciduous and evergreen. There are elms, oaks, sycamores and maples amongst the spruces. There's an old saw, its teeth driven into the flesh of one of the sycamores. Rivulets of blood, still warm to the touch, seep from its bark."

She reaches into her jacket once more, and removes a small book: a traveller's guide of maps, one that you'd find in any ordinary gas station. "Of course, this alone is nothing too out of the ordinary. Mixed forests exist where climates begin to change, of course, but..." She fights with the map for a moment, and eventually unfurls it, then lays it across the desk. Many notes and town names have been scribbled out, but there is a circle around Gray Harbor. She points with a pale finger toward certain road names. "Elm. Oak. Sycamore. Maple, and..." her finger finds the final street: "Spruce." Then she points out the lake. "Gray Lake, in close proximity to..." her finger draws an imaginary line toward the saw mill. She doesn't feel the need to explain this part.

Then she leans back, her hands splayed out in front of her. "Compelling, no? I'm not one to hide my intention, Chief de la Vega. I believe that something is hidden in your town. Something that is trying to be found. And I believe we're the ones to find it." She shrugs. "That's why I want to look into your cold case files."

Sadie steadies herself, tightening her grip ever so slightly on her jacket. There's no doubt in her mind that any sensible person would find what her partner just said strange at best, and incriminating at worst. This part is vital, and she exerts utmost consideration to making sure her expression remains as controlled as possible. "I understand how this sounds, de la Vega. But you must understand that the Bureau would never put us in a position like this if we didn't produce results."

She gives a passing glance to the donut before looking into the Chief's eyes. "We assure you, all we're after is the truth," she states. Her eyes remain fixed in place for some time, as if she's staring at something which lies beyond the man's eyes. "I'm sure you understand," she says after an uncomfortable period of silence. Finally, she looks away with a slight self-aggrandizing smile on her face as she grabs a small, worn notepad along with a pen from her coat to scribble something down.

The cop actually sighs as the story begins. Like, what the fuck did I do to get subjected to this. His gaze flickers to his donut, then back to Dorothy's face, his expression hard. Not a smile in sight. Not a single word, either; just that stony silence, and the occasional click, click of a pen that's found its way into his hand.

When she's done, and moved on to laying out the map she had folded up in her little book, he murmurs, "What do you actually want from me, Agent Dyres?" The map's given a brief glance. The town marked off on it, the lake and of course the sawmill. No, she probably doesn't need to explain that part. Given the tension that slivers through him when it's gestured to. "You two walk in here, and think you're going to tell me to roll over and give you my case files, and I'm going to.. what." He makes a moue with his mouth. "Do it, because you came in here and flashed your fucking badges at me?"

His gaze slides to Sadie, meeting hers steadily. "You want the truth, huh?" To her eyes, there's definitely something.. off about him. Something at the very surface of the man, and there's nothing wholesome about it. Cracklings of energy; the scent of ozone and scorch and ruin, and the way he watches her. Like he's daring her to take a closer look. "You want it so badly, why don't you go down there and take a look at it. And then come back here." A twitch at the corners of his eyes as he looks back to Dorothy. "And ask me really nicely."

Dorothy's smile is unwavering. It's almost unsettling. "Showing our badges when acting in official capacity under the Bureau is standard operating procedure. I would not dare make demands of you, Chief de la Vega. I have asked and been truthful as to my intentions. I laid them bare before you. Literally. This town is your jurisdiction, so I sought your blessing before anything else. Your apparent issue with federal agents aside, you can either help me because I'm asking for your help, or turn me away and make my job harder than it has to be." She shrugs, her lips still turned up at the corners. "I'm still going to investigate what I need to investigate, with or without your help. I believe that there are forces at work here that put the people of this town in danger. I am here to identify what they are and work to stop them. Do I know what they are? No. Do I know how to find them? No. But I know they are here. And that's all I really need to know to compel me to action." She raises a pale hand to subtly adjust her tie. "The first step in finding the truth is to strip away the lies. There may be information in your cold cases that weren't able to be considered properly because their investigation was of a... mundane nature. Information that pertains to unravelling the mystery that lay before us."

As for Sadie, there's definitely something about her. Her presence is like a tangled knot, a puzzle refusing to be solved. Regardless, she checks her wristwatch before scribbling down an addendum in her notepad. She taps her pen to her chin as her brow furrows, and for a moment a flash of doubt passes over her face. She dismisses it swiftly, and puts the notepad down. "Chief de la Vega, if this is a matter of trust, we would be happy to earn yours. As federal agents, we have nothing to hide. I'm confident that as a man of the law, you feel much the same way." she says, breathing a quiet sigh.

She looks over at her partner. "Special Agent Dyres, if this is de la Vega's stance on the matter, it is my opinion that there's no need to press the issue any further at this moment." She pauses to give the man behind the desk an inclusive glance. "As I said, we all want the same thing here. Let's not get caught up in the particulars. I'd much rather make an ally over another enemy."

There's a long pause from the cop, as he considers what both women have to say. And then a curt nod, a fleeting glance to one of his file cabinets, and back to Sadie. Who appears to be the 'good cop' of this little outfit. After a glance at his own watch, "I've got some things to attend to." The pen's flicked onto his desk, and he pulls to his feet and reaches for the jacket slung over the back of his chair. "But I'm sure I'll see you both again soon." The pair of them get a wolfish little smile as he shrugs into the battered leather. "I'm not your enemy. Doesn't make me your friend." Then he waits, patiently. Presumably for them to leave.

Dorothy nods her head, and rises to her feet. That smile is still on her face. "Much easier to make a friend when they're not your enemy! It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Chief de la Vega. I wish you all the best until our next meeting." And with that, she swiftly makes her exit.

Sadie has quite a few things rattling around in her head. While she keeps a veneer of professionalism, deep down, she's terrified. The first object of her fear is failure, something which she'll do nearly anything to avoid. The other, is of the unknown. Uncovering the truth is what drives her, but she dreads that certain truths will remain unknowable. Both of these fears are manifest behind her stoic expression. She puts her coat back on, uncharacteristically stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"I'm glad to hear it," she says as she makes her exit following Special Agent Dyres.