Background
Thirteen-year-old Drew Larsen confessed to the brutal slayings of his family members. The question remained, did he?
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WARNING: This portion of Chapter One contains one profane word that is necessary for the storyline. Read at your own risk!
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BUILD A BETTER BOY TRUISM #5: Boys need positive role models in their lives, so be his hero. Or, somebody else you may not approve of, will be.
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Last Time: "But, you know," Drew Larson said.
"I know what?" Darden sharply demanded.
The boy did not answer the question. He glared at the detective with eyes that scorched right through him. Darden pushed the intercom button on the wall beside the door Jeremiah Brownlee had shown him on his way out of the room.
"I'm done here," he spoke into the system's mouthpiece.
As Darden stepped into the hallway outside the consultation room, he contemplated what it was Drew Larsen claimed he knew.
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Located on the third floor of the hospital, the visitors lounge contained a row of vending machines offering a variety of snacks and sodas. In the oversized room, a bulletin board full of notes pertaining to occurrences around the facility could be found. Six black-legged tables with checkerboard Formica tops, and several folding chairs crowded around each of the tables, provided seating for guests.
Detective Darden, and Jeremiah Brownlee, sat drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups. Each preferred two packs of sugar, and two packs of creamer, in their java. Darden noticed Brownlee's right ring finger exhibited an insignia featuring the West Point seal. An emblem of the United States Army Officer Corps.
"You serve against ISIS?" Darden proposed.
Acting like it was nothing major, Brownlee remarked, "And, people think the whackos in here are crazy. That whole situation over there is one big mental case."
"Give me your opinion, Jeremiah," Darden began, "do you believe Drew Larsen belongs on a psyche ward?"
"Don't tell me you think he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize," Brownlee good-naturedly retorted.
"No, I don't suggest anything of that nature, my friend," Darden said, "I'm just trying to understand what makes him tick."
The detective sipped his piping hot coffee. Setting the cup back down on the table, he remarked, "He's too young to be placed in a Big Boy prison, although, unquestionably, that's where he belongs."
"He's also much too dangerous for a youth facility. So, maybe that's why he's here, because there's nowhere else to put him. Therein lies the dilemma," Brownlee chimed in.
"Do you think the boy's insane?" Darden wondered.
Brownlee crushed his Styrofoam cup like it was a cockroach inside his massive hand. He looked at the detective and queried, "If Larsen's not insane, you tell me what else he could be."
"That's what I'm getting at, Big Man," Darden stated.
"You're the detective, Sean. I thought you already knew the answer to that question," Brownlee commented. Then, he said, "If he's not crazy his murderous actions are."
The Orderly threw his coffee cup into a nearby trash receptacle without getting out of his seat.
"I thought this case was closed tighter than a bass drum?" he wondered out loud, "So, why are you here any way?"
Darden quickly changed the subject. He could not let on to the Orderly that he was not there on official Police business.
"Was Drew Larsen provided my name before I interviewed him?" he asked.
With a shake of his bald head, Brownlee replied, "Not by me. All I told him was he had a visitor he was required to see. I don't provide Larsen's kind any more information than I have to."
"I told Drew Larsen my name was Detective Darden. I never gave him my first name," he said.
Brownlee gave the detective a quizzical look as if to ask "So?"
Darden honed in on the peculiar glance and stated, "He made a point of calling me Sean."
Stone still, the Orderly looked at him but said nothing.
"Jeremiah, I know Larsen was transferred here only six short days ago. In that time, have you noticed anything strange that he does? By that, I mean aggressive in any way. What I'm searching for are any quirks the boy may display," Darden asked.
"He constantly talks to himself. You know, he asks himself rhetorical questions that don't need any answers," Brownlee replied without hesitation.
"Anything unique?" Darden wondered.
Brownlee immediately answered the question by informing the detective, "He constantly is asking himself "Happity, happity, horseshit. Ain't we having fun now, Drew?"
Spontaneously, Darden scanned his mental computer banks searching for where he'd heard those exact words before. He was convinced he had. The answer refused to come to him. He pulled his ragged wallet out of his right hip pocket and withdrew a business card. The billfold was black, leather, and possessed a rough surface.
He slid the card across the top of the table to the Orderly and said, "My office telephone number is on the front. My home and cellphone numbers are on the back. Do me a favor, call me if anything unusual happens with Drew Larsen."
The Orderly took the card and placed it in his shirt pocket. As they stood up, Darden felt like he bore an iron yoke. Brownlee possessed a heavy burden, too. A bond between the two men had been formed.
Cast of Characters:
Detective Sean Darden - Lead Investigator of the heinous murders of the Larsen family.
Drew Larsen - Thirteen-year-old boy who confessed to the brutal slayings of his family. The question remained, did he?
Jeremiah Brownlee - Orderly for the hospital who escorted Detective Darden while he was on the hospital's property.
Author Notes
NOTE: "Happity, happity, horseshit" is not a nit. It is meant to imply the level of Drew Larsen's insanity.
The New Hospital, by willie, selected to complement this portion of Chapter One.
So, thanks willie, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with this portion of Chapter One.
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