Sewer Tunnel
A mishmash of stone, brick, cement, pipes and roots create the sewers and aqueducts under Manhattan. Tunnels filled with twists and turns makes it quite easy to get lost here beneath the subway. Soiled water flows through the waterways, filled with raw sewage, and garbage, making it quite toxic to walk through.
The chattering of rats can be heard from every direction, the tapping of small feet as they scurry along the stonework making it quite obvious that the sewer is their domain.
Characters
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| Drew Clark | Abigail Allen | Detective O'Malley | Detective Mulcahey | Detective Espinoza |
Something about the omelet he ate earlier really isn't sitting well with him.
Then again, thinks Drew as he climbs down the ladder that he's not really supposed to be on, It could just be the toxic fumes coming from the tunnel that's churning my stomach. Pulling his shirt up over his nose to keep out the worst of the smell (and keep in the vomit), he drops down to the bottom of the ladder by hopping off.
And he finds himself ankle deep in sewage.
I swear, I hate this job. First I have to interview some nut who thinks the Jersey Devil is alive and harassing her in Central Park. Then I have to write about "Bat Boy", and now this. Maybe it's time to apply at the museums again.
Pulling one foot out of the mess and shifting his weight so that he can get the foot up on the ridge along the curve of the sewer bottom, he frowns. His foot seems to be caught on something large. Which means it's not a rat. Shifting his other foot around instead, he gets it up on the platform and struggles to yank his foot up. He winds up losing his shoe in the process, and lands on his ass against the old stone wall.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mutters to himself, watching as his sock drips a greenish sort of water back down to the cement platform below. It's out of the corner of his eye that he catches the charred remains floating to the surface of the sewer, his shoe lodged and severely wedged between two ribs.
"Now you've got to really be fucking kidding me." Grabbing his phone from his pocket he dials 9-1-1, and is thankful that the signal is strong enough this far underground that it rings.
#
Dispatch gets the call transferred to them, going through the usual questions: who, what, where, when, why, and how. Those usually determine the department they go to. When the call rings through to O'Malley's desk, she picks up the phone with a theatrical flair and looks decidedly bored. "O'Malley," she says, a faint Irish accent to her voice. It's what happens when a girl grows up around a large Irish community. "Crispy corpse, huh?" Her hand slams over the mouthpiece and she glances around for Espinoza. Not seeing him, she frowns. Being stuck with Mulcahey all afternoon? Not exactly something she wants to do. Not that she doesn't adore the man — her mentor and father figure — but she's old enough now that she really hates being called squirt.
"Yo, Mulcahey! We got a crispy corpse down in the sewer. Get the coroner on the phone and let's get going."
Not waiting for her 'partner' to take care of the call, she's disconnecting with dispatch, letting them know she's on the way.
She and Mulcahey are on the way.
Fixing her shirt, she grabs the keys and smirks at her partner. "Uh-uh, last time you drove, I'm pretty sure Espinoza wanted to give you a ticket. I'm behind the wheel today."
"Yeah, yeah," Mulcahey says, grabbing his coffee mug off the desk. "Let's just hope Denham sends someone quick. I don't want to be hanging around in the sewers all day, squirt."
#
The smell hits Abby's nose first. Ugh. When she called up one of her Stone Trees packmates looking for a meeting, it seemed weird at the time that he suggested they meet in the sewers, but actually encountering the place it seemed insane. Then again, where would you least expect to find a keen-nosed werewolf than a place that reeks like this? She makes her way down the ladder, moving off of it onto something relatively dry. Soon she notices Drew. "Hi- uh…" That's not who she's looking for. What's someone else doing down here? "…You aren't a maintenance guy are you?"
#
About to go fishing for his shoe (though yanking it from a corpse isn't really ideal), Drew stops at the sound of the voice. "Do I look like a maintenance guy?" He gives his head a shake at the young girl. He can't help but look at her, then look at the body before looking back at her. "Uh, I really don't think you're supposed to be down here. I don't remember schools doing field trips down to the sewers."
Canadian's don't go down in the sewers. Maybe that's why.
Drew wrinkles his nose, really wanting to get the girl out of here before the place is swarmed with cops.
"You sure you're in the right place?"
#
"Look, Mulcahey, I don't care if you've got a hot date for the weekend. When have I ever cared about that?" O'Malley rolls her eyes at her partner, and screeches the car to a stop. She can't block the subway entrance as it's technically on the sidewalk and running over pedestrians really wouldn't do her, or the precinct, any good. "Let's deal with Kentucky Fried Crispy down there, and you can go back to flirting with Little Miss Hot Date, alright?"
Hopping out of the car, and waiting for Mulcahey to exit as well before she slams the door and locks it, she glances around. "Should've brought some rain gear."
Mulcahey reaches into the crime scene bag and tosses a square of plastic at her. "Put the hood on, squirt, so you don't complain when sewer sludge drenches your hair."
"Whatever." Regan tucks the square into her pocket and then makes her way through the terminal. It's a pain. Thick with people that aren't willing to move for the cops, but she pushes her way through. It takes a bit for Mulcahey to find the maintenance man to lead them to the sewer entrance.
#
"This is where my friend said we should meet… we *thought* nobody else would be here," Abby explains with a frown, crossing her arms. "But I guess he's not here yet, so I could still…" She glances down and steps back, hand going to her mouth. "Oh my God." She stares at the body for a while, not sure what else to say about it.
#
Drew can't figure out why two teenagers would be meeting in the sewer, unless it's something illicit.
Definitely wouldn't be sex. Doubt anyone would be caught dead down here doing that. The thought of the word "dead" causes him to glance down at the corpse again, and he wrinkles his nose. On the plus side, the sewer smell is keeping the smell of burnt flesh from tickling his nose. On the minus side, every time he looks at the corpse he wants to vomit more.
Pinching his nose with his shirt, he glances at the girl again and nods to the ladder. "You might want to go back up there. Before you puke." It's less than sympathetic, but he is trying to be nice. For him.
#
"Gotcha," O'Malley says as she grabs the door that leads to the opening for the sewer. Her boots clang against the ladder as she makes her way down, figuring whomever called in the body to be long gone. Hearing voices below causes her to look up at Mulcahey as he starts to make his way down, and to drop down the last few rungs. Careful to land directly in front of the ladder, and not in the dip of the sewer, she glances at the man, and extremely young woman with her brow raised.
It looks bad.
"Which one of you called it in?"
"O'Malley, don't you think you should be assessing the scene first?" Stepping off the ladder, he glances at the others gathered there. Mulcahey curses and then looks back to the surface. "Denham isn't going to like this."
"Your point?"
"He's going to send an intern."
"He needs to send a forensic anthropologist," she fires back. "And who's god damned shoe is that in my body?"
#
Abby's about to do just what Drew suggested and head back up to call her packmate, telling him to meet somewhere else, when the police officer comes down. Oh… great. "Um… It was probably him," she says to Regan, pointing toward Drew. He did seem to have a shoe off. "I don't really know what's going on, I just got here…" She really hopes she can get out of this without risking the secrecy of the pack… but, she thinks, it'll be hard to lie and not look suspicious when there's a dead body involved.
#
Well, well. Look at the buddy cops.
Drew is careful not to make a face at the loud, bossy female, and instead turns to the older gentleman with her. It's quite obvious that he's in charge (and if not, he should be really, his demeanor is better suited for it). "That would be me. I was down here for a story." Pulling out his press credentials, he hands them over to the older cop. "Following a lead. I wasn't expecting… that."
Glancing at the female cop, he snorts. "Hence my shoe lodged in his ribs." Lifting up his socked foot, he waggles it around and then turns back to Mulcahey. "Called it in once the body floated to the surface. Guessing my shoe happens to be evidence now?"
He blinks in surprise at the young girl, and then laughs. "Did you just try to sell me out? Ouch."
#
"Riiiiight." O'Malley snorts. "So it's just a coincidence the two of you are here with a corpse. Together." The question is there in her tone, but she doesn't actually voice it. The girl looks like she could be legal, and it's not her business what two people are doing down in the sewer together.
"O'Malley, behave," barks Mulcahey.
"Yeah, fine." A glance at Drew, and she pulls a frown at him. "You stepped in the corpse? Why were you walking in the water, and not on the ledge?"
#
"I wasn't accusing you or anything," Abby says. "Just… answering the question." She shrugs a bit. "I was actually waiting for someone else." Now to think of a good excuse. "…I was meeting a friend, and we were going to do some martial arts training. I guess he figured down here there wouldn't be anyone to disturb us. And the smell would make it more of a challenge." Well, that's close *enough* to the truth. She was really hoping to get some training in how to best use her werewolf powers. "But he hasn't shown up and he didn't call… I can't tell if that's him or not," she adds, pointing to the body.
#
Just when Espinoza thought he was done for the day, he got the call. He figures it was too good to be true. A calm, quiet Memorial Day weekend in the homicide department. As if that ever happens. He's not even sure why he got the call when O'Malley and Mulcahey are on the scene. Three cops wandering around a dead body when forensics hasn't arrived is a bit of overkill.
Only thing else we need is a writer chronicling it all.
He comes prepared, a surgical mask fished out of the glove box held to his nose. It doesnt' block the smell; the liberal amount of moth balls he keeps the damn things buried in gives him time to adjust to the smells more gradually.
"I'm missing happy hour and quarter wings," Espinoza complains. Not to mention that pretty little waitress, Rita.
He stops, taking in the scene with Miss Barely Street Legal and Unnamed Civvie. "What's the situation?" A finger is pointed at the pair, "You two, don't go anywhere."
#
"I don't think that's exactly fresh," Drew points out, glancing at the corpse again. He's still got his t-shirt drawn up over his face thanks to the smell of the sewer, but it's not like he's trying to hide. He'll lower it if they ask him nicely, but they've not yet asked.
Likely because we're all standing in a smelly sewer. Maybe they understand.
If not, he might just retch up that omelet from earlier.
"Sure, sure," Drew teases the young girl. "Not accusing me, just pointing at me and blaming it on my shoe." He admitted to it anyhow, so it's all in fun.
"Look," he says to O'Malley, "I hopped down the ladder, misjudged the distance. Wound up about… there." Pointing at the area where the body is floating, he sighs. "Tried to get out of the slime, and wound up with my foot stuck. Hence the shoe, and the fact I'm hopping around here in a sewer water covered sock. No clue who that is, how long its been here, or where it came from. Just like I told the 9-1-1 operator. I'm just down here to find one of the sewer people for a story."
Believe me. I really didn't want to be here in the first place, and I want to be here even less now.
"Like I'm going anywhere."
#
"Okay, everyone settle down," comes the order from O'Malley. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she glances between the pair that were here with the body, and figures she'll get started actually taking statements. "I'll take the girl," she mutters to Mulcahey, which earns her a nod.
Peachy.
"Let's go over here, and I'll get your story so we aren't all talking over one another."
Mulcahey turns to Drew and furrows his brow. "We're gonna need the sock too. You might have some body pieces on there." Taking out a bag, he motions for the man to perch himself on the ladder. That's when he hears more footsteps coming down. Figuring it's the corner, he keeps Drew out of the way.
"Espinoza," comes the deep voice of Mulcahey with a glance over at O'Malley. "Why the hell did they call you in?"
"Because," O'Malley says with a roll of her eyes. "They don't think you can handle me, Mulcahey." Glancing at the newcomer, and her other partner, she shrugs. "He," she says, pointing at Drew, "Called in a crispy corpse. Denham's supposedly sending someone in, but you know how traffic in the city is. Could be a while before they get here. Forensics is on the way, but it's not like they're going to get much from this dump." She turns away from the girl and stares at Espinoza. "Damn. I need to get me one of those masks for cases like this."
#
"…Good point," Abby says. If the body were old, it obviously wouldn't be her packmate. "…Do we have to stay down here? It really… *really* stinks," she observes. A bit of stating the obvious there. "But I guess… I'd have to go pretty far from here *not* to smell it…"
#
"I dated a doctor once," Espinoza explains. "She liked to role-play." Probably more information than the civvies need, but he can't help needling O'Malley and Mulcahey.
He turns his attention to the girl. He seems to consider then glances at O'Malley. "Get her out of here. Stepped in the body guy is a different matter."
His attention swivels around to the man and he sighs, "Should probably get medical too. Hope you got insurance, bro. You're gonna need a shot or two after this."
#
"Christ. First you keep my shoe. Now you want my sock." Drew leans against the wall and yanks his sock off. Which is the worst possible thing he can do, because he's got nowhere to put his foot now. Frowning, he grabs hold of the ladder with his free hand so that he doesn't topple onto the corpse or into the sludge that is the New York sewer system.
"Ghostbusters and that pink slime was definitely more appealing than this," he mutters.
Insurance? Down here? Right. OHIP won't cover me here either. Looks like I'm stuck at the shitty job indefinitely now.
#
O'Malley rolls her eyes at Espinoza and then laughs. "Who haven't you dated, Nozie?" She's going to get hell for that, but she doesn't really care.
"Come on, you. Up the ladder. I can take your statement upstairs. You bolt, I'll find you though, got it?" Regan goes from laughing to dead serious in less than a heartbeat, and she's affecting that no-nonsense tone to her voice.
Mulcahey pulls out his phone and frowns. "Forensics is stuck up on Broadway."
#
"…Yeah," Abby says to Regan. She's seen that serious look a bunch of times on her father and his coworkers in the past. Maybe they teach people to do that look at the police academy. Then her phone rings. "Hi… oh, there you are. …Yeah, it's pretty crazy down here. We're probably going to have to do this later…" Seems like her friend finally called.
#
Espinoza stares at the girl and her telephone with a look somewhere between amused and annoyed. His first instinct is to grab it and pocket it, but the last thing they need is some crazy parent or boyfriend calling in a kidnapping or missing persons on the kid.
"You can gossip about boys later." Espinoza nods toward the phone. "Hang it up, or I will."
Beat.
"Everybody up the ladder. I'm about to lose my lunch and I'm sure a burger with chili only tastes good going down."
#
"Thank god I'm not the only one." Drew will of course wait for the women to go up before attempting to hop up on one foot. The last thing he wants is to get Tetanus by cutting his foot on a rusty ladder rung. "I would've been up there already but the 9-1-1 operator told me to stay put." He holds his wet sock out so that it can get bagged, and once it is he sighs.
There goes a good sock. Goodbye, sock. I probably won't want you back after this. Guess I need to get a new pair of shoes too, or lose my leg in a horrible subway accident so I only need the one…
#
O'Malley motions for the young woman to go up in front of her. About to tell the girl to get the hell off the phone when Nozie does it for her. Shooting him a grin of thanks, she hurries the girl up the ladder. "Let's go. The less time I've got to spend down here the better. Pretty sure you're feeling the same." She doesn't believe the malarky about martial arts down in the sewer. There's plenty of parks and gyms that allow that sort of thing.
"I'll get the scene cordoned off once everyone is up. Wait for forensics. No point in you losing your lunch, or losing your day off, Espinoza." Mulcahey frowns at his phone again and pockets it. Weird for a burnt up corpse to just appear in the sewer but he's been on stranger cases in the past. He's at the point where he stops questioning the oddities.
#
"Sorry, they want me to hang up," Abby says to her packmate. "See you later." She climbs up the ladder when ordered. This is definitely a mess. If they don't believe her, what's she going to say? If she told the truth, they'd probably think she was crazy… unless she showed them. But if she did that… the pack definitely wouldn't appreciate it. It doesn't seem like there's a good way out of this…
#
Up top, Espinoza breathes in a deep draught of wonderful, not quite fresh, polluted New York City air. It still smells better than the subway, rank acridness, homeless body odor, rotting trash and all. He decides to leave O'Malley to the girl and wanders over to Mr. Steps in a Body. "Let's do this fast, and we can all get home. What's your name and why were you down there with a teenage girl?"
Espinoza has a few ideas and none of them make him like the guy. From drugs to sex, it's all bad and makes for a cranky detective.
#
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I wasn't down there with that girl, believe me." Drew's eyes go comically wide, since it's not the first time that he realizes how it looked. "Andrew Clark," he says finally, offering his press credentials to the cop. "I work for Strange Truths."
Frowning, he holds a finger up and turns toward the nearest garbage can and loses his omelet.
I knew that thing wasn't sitting well.
Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth he clears his throat a few times, trying to get the aftertaste gone. "Following a lead. People who live in the sewers. Something about crocodiles living after being flushed." Total bunk, he knows, but it's what the tabloid wants him to write. "Jumped down the damned ladder and wound up foot first in Mr. Wet-and-crispy there."
He glances at the detective and then points to the girl. "She dropped down a few minutes after I did. Said she was meeting a friend. I figured it was drugs, but not my place to care honestly. I called 9-1-1- when I lost my shoe and I waited like I was told."
#
Mulcahey stays behind, cordoning off the area and waiting for forensics and whoever the coroner is sending out. He hopes it's not one of the interns, but as long as they get the body out in one piece and they can get the forensic anthropologist to help determine who it is, he doesn't care.
Regan rolls her eyes at the two older men and then points the young woman to the nearest bench. "Sit."
Pulling out a notepad, she makes a few notes about the approximate height and weight of the young woman, basic features. "Name. Age. What were you really doing down in the sewers with that man?"
#
Abby sits. She might as well start by telling as much of the truth as she can. "My name's Abby… Abigail Allen if you want the whole thing. I'm 17. And like I said, I was going down there to meet up with a friend…his name's Teddy Hesse, because I guess you'll want that too. That guy was already there when I showed up. I was just about to leave and tell Teddy we should do this somewhere else when you came down. That other guy, I haven't seen before today," she explains.
#
Espinoza blinks at the man. He doesn't go out of his way to read that crap, though he's been known to make fun of it a time or two when he's found an old copy in the break room or on someone's desk. "Dead babies? Jersey Devil?"
"You just do that to pay the bills right?" Because grown ass men really shouldn't believe in that crap. That's the sort of bunk in his nephew's horror movies, and even Dunlop and Browning doesn't get called in for that sort of useless tripe.
#
Drew very nearly points out that the dead babies story is actually truth, just modified to make it sound more like it was false than a report he read online. He doesn't though. Just shrugs, nods, and says, "Yeah, it pays the bills." He'd curse, but he figures he's in enough trouble as it is.
"I'm a classically trained mythologist, with a Bachelor of History. The economy blows."
That, and I got screwed over by the downturn. Eventually I won't be writing this crap.
#
"Allen?" O'Malley writes the info down, frowning slightly. The name is ringing in her head, denoting familiarity, but she can't quite place it. In a city this size, it's likely she's made an arrest with that name.
Teddy Hesse's name is jotted down as well, along with a note to verify his existence.
"Why were you going down to the sewer to meet with a friend? Seems a pretty strange place to hangout."
#
"That's what I said," Abby says. "It was his idea… He wanted someplace where we could get some privacy. I think the idea was that he didn't want people to think we were actually trying to hurt each other, so we were supposed to go somewhere out of the way." She shrugs. "It's still pretty stupid, but it's what he wanted to do."
#
"Word," Espinoza agrees. He does take the credentials, recording them all, including the guy's name. "Anyone able to vouch for you following a lead or is that a whole 'I don't reveal my sources' thing?"
#
Pulling a card out of his back pocket, Drew says, "Feel free to give my boss a call. He's a hard ass, and a bit of a jerk, but he'll vouch for it, because he likes sending me to the worst places for stories."
That's what I get for dating the man's daughter.
"If not, I can lead you to Sewer Sarah. I'd offer a number for her, but y'know, she lives in the damned sewers and I'm pretty sure they don't have lines down there." Drew rubs a hand over his face and groans.
This is really just my fucking luck. I can't believe that here I am, writing crappy stories of the weird and outrageous, and I step in a burned corpse in the sewer, and I'm being questioned like a suspect. With my sock and shoe missing.
#
O'Malley doesn't comment on what she thinks the young woman's friend might have actually been up to. "Next time, you might want to try a dojo or gym. Even the Y lets kids use it for a lower cost." Beats having people on the street figure the kids are beating each other up, or the young woman is being mugged.
Regan glances down at the papers again, then turns over her shoulder and yells to Espinoza, "Hey, Nozie, what's the name of Howwie's kid?"
#
Flinch. "Oh… You got me…" Abby figures she's going to get chewed out when she gets home, but that was probably going to happen anyway, and it feels like she might not have to choose between ratting out the Pack and being a murder suspect. "I guess they train you to think of things like that."
#
Taking the card, Espinoza pockets it. The guy's story is too weird to be faked, and most liars come up with better stories, and don't usually hand over their credentials. Doesn't mean he's going to let Not Clark Kent off the hook that easily. "Yeah, I'll be making that phone call, don't worry. Just a basic follow up, you understand?"
"Abigail," the detective answers without missing a beat. He swivels his head around to glance back at O'Malley over his shoulder. "What the - you're shitting me."
#
"Totally understand," Drew says with a quick nod. "I'd do the same in your shoes." He glances down at his bare foot again and snorts. "Hell, I'd probably do a lot more if I had a full pair of shoes, and possibly a sock." Wiggling his toes, he looks down and sighs.
Getting home is going to be a bitch.
"I'll cooperate fully. Just happy it's nice weather today, otherwise I might be a bit pissed that I'm missing a shoe and sock."
#
"Do I look like I'm shitting you, Espinoza?" O'Malley rolls her eyes at her partner. "Abigail Allen," she says, jerking her thumb at the girl. "Howwie's daughter, I'm assuming." What are the chances?
"No, they don't train us to think of things like that, kid. It's common sense."
#
"…Sounds like you know my dad pretty well," Abby notes. "I'm surprised, I didn't think he'd work that much with people from around here. But… I guess with what's been going on recently you'd have to be working together more often… anyway," she continues, "Can I go home now? I've got some apologizing to do," she says, sounding only half-sarcastic.
#
"From around where?" Espinoza asks. "Homicide?" It's true, her father isn't a homicide detective, but that doesn't mean that they're all strangers. Paths cross, transfers happen, and sometimes they all have to play together nicely.
"I'm not fielding that one O'Malley. I'm not touching it." No way is he going to be the one to deliver a teenage girl home to her father after she was planning to meet a boy in the sewers. Probably in one of the homeless hovels. He's heard the stories; pay them a little bit and it's like a rented room without the ID check or the fat, leering clerk.
"You're not going home, yet." The detective turns his attention to Drew. "You stepped in a dead body, and just for safety, you need to get your foot checked out at the hospital. It's probably clean bro, but do you want to take that chance?"
#
I really don't want to go to the hospital, but I suppose I can bill it to the boss since this happened while at work.
"Yeah, fine. I'll go make sure the crispy corpse didn't worm it's way into my bloodstream. Hate to have to write about myself, and a line of zombies created in the sewer." It's a joke, but Drew's well aware that it's not going to come across all that well.
"Mind giving me a lift? It'll just get worse in a dirty cab," he points out.
#
O'Malley just stares at the girl for a minute, cursing mildly under her breath. Stupid cop's kid, taking an attitude. She's half a mind to bring the girl down to the precinct and make her wait there until Howwie can get there to pick her up and have her explain what she's doing there.
Shooting a dirty look at Espinoza, she turns back to Abigail and frowns. "No. You can wait until we're done here. Then I'll be taking you home and letting your parents know what you were up to in the sewer." She doesn't want to be fielding it either, but someone has to and it'll sound better coming from her than from Espinoza anyhow. Mulcahey would be better at it, but he's busy cordoning off the scene.
#
Abby stretches her arms. "All right," she says. "It's probably safer to be around you at this point." Not to mention that she was planning on being out here for a while anyway doing her werewolf training.
#
"Safer?" Espinoza gives the girl a look and shakes his head. "I haven't read any stories about zombies yet, but yeah, I guess it is safer than wandering the sewers with your boyfriend."
He nods to the reporter. "I'll give you a lift to the hospital. It's on the way."
#
"Great. Thanks." Drew runs his hand through his hair, looking a little stressed out. "You don't have to worry about waiting for me. I'll get them to give me one of those little bootie things they put on in the OR."
It'll still look stupid and ridiculous, but it beats walking around the damned city with no shoe or sock. I already smell homeless thanks to the sewer, I don't need to look it too.
#
"Safer?" O'Malley's tone mimics Espinoza's, and she blinks a few times at the young girl. "Whatever." She's got a few thoughts as to what Abigail was trying to get up to in the sewers and martial arts training doesn't even remotely come close to what she's thinking.
A crackle comes over her walkie, and she presses a button. "Yeah, forensics is pulling up, Mulcahey. We'll send'em down and get these two away from the scene for now."
#
"He's… not my boyfriend," Abby says. "I only even see him about… once a month usually," she explains. "I guess I kind of trust him… but if this is the kind of situation I end up in trying to do something with him it'd probably be a better idea to find someone else," she says.
#
The kid is a weird one. Or naive. Whatever, it's not his problem. He'd say that he feels sorry for O'Malley, but he'd be lying. He's about to say something when he hears more than sees the rustle of a fast approaching crowd, and catches flashing lights out of the corner of his eye. No sirens, but still clear that the police are here. "Looks like it's time for us to move the party elsewhere."
Beat.
Espinoza looks over at Drew, "Unless you want to wait and see if the corpse walks? Maybe interview it?"
#
"Now there's an idea," Drew says with a laugh. "But I'm sure I can get a soundbyte from the coroner later if it does get up off the slab and walks." It's not a bad idea for a story though. Maybe today won't be a complete and total wash.
"I'm happy enough to go get this checked, make sure I'm not running around with forensic evidence between my toes."
Glancing at the lights in the distance, he shrugs. "Ready whenever you are."
#
"Let's go, kid." O'Malley points toward her cruiser (okay, it's Mulcahey's cruiser, and she'll wind up having to pick him up after the ride to Queens), and nods to Abigail. "In you go. You've got exactly until we get to Queens to figure out what the hell you're planning on telling your parents."
She's going to tell the truth as she sees it, and not add in the story about training in the sewers. She doubts Howwie'd believe it, so she'll let him get more out of his kid.
#
Abby follows O'Malley into the cruiser. Yeah… what exactly is she going to tell her parents? From the sound of things… she didn't believe her story, and she'd tell them as much. Well… If it came down to it, she'd probably be more willing to tell her parents about being a werewolf than she would another police officer… But the more people she told, the more likely it would be that the Pack would find out. It's not fair, she thinks. People seem to have been able to get famous while kiding a supernatural identity, so why does it cause her so much trouble?
