Erotica Harem

Setting: The police station which has been set up before. I don’t have any suggestions here.

Characters: I thought Parker’s thoughts were good. The actual inner thoughts were well done. My only questions stem from why is he having all these thoughts? As a cop, he should be used to all this. I suspect it does have to do with the case they refer to from six weeks ago, and possibly Slade. I’m just thinking, the reader needs a little more information about what’s going on. I’m sure later chapters have the details, and I don’t think you have to give all your details away here. It’s entirely up to you.
But the emotions the thoughts themselves show, are intense and it’s easy to the conflict and turmoil going on inside of Parker.

I wonder if you should show Perelli being more of a bigot up to this point. I know it’s mentioned, but I think that aspect of Perelli could be showed more in earlier chapters. I think it would add to the intensity of this chapter.

Referencing: I don’t think I have any comments here.

Plot: Parker and Perelli get into an argument. Hints of further issues and mysteries are dropped.

Grammar: I noticed some adverbs. I pointed them out in red. Other than that, small things in the line by line.

Just my personal opinion: Good emotionally charged chapter. Parker begins to take on new dimensions. I think if Perelli is developed a little more before this, this chapter could fully reach its potential. That’s just my take on it.
Regardless, a good chapter for Parker.

Sephina

Line by Line:

Parker was pissed! (c:indigo}Good way to open the chapter. Some asshole in the department leaked details of the investigation to the media and God help them if he ever learned who the culprit was. At his desk, he rubbed his forehead between thumb and forefinger, working the tension out of his temples, feeling a headache coming on and ignoring the deep-seated craving in his gut. Popping four small amber pills, he swallowed the pain relievers without water and closed the drawer of the desk.

After logging the evidence they’d collected according to departmental protocol, Perelli shuffled back to his desk like a hound returning from a victorious hunt with its master. Moments later, Detective Blake bounded into the hole and crossed the room in a few short strides toward them. The pain in his head increased twofold.

“Sounds like somebody squealed,” Blake said, straddling a chair between their desks. His face showed signs of strain, glistening with a coat of sweat. Parker knew the man would never admit to the rigors of being a rookie, and would keep his thoughts to himself.

“I’ll bet my left nut that asshole, Slade, had something to do that crowd outside.” Perelli snorted, disgusted.

“The guy’s a fucking menace,” Parker said, noticing for the first time the manila envelope in the wire basket atop his desk. With the words Crime Scene Photos - Piedmont Park scrawled across the surface in thick, black letters, the package contained numerous 8 x 10 black and white photographs. The glossies were graphic and depicted every gruesome detail, down to the shattered bones and cartilage protruding through torn skin, taken from every angle possible by the crime scene investigators called to the scene. No human being should ever be subjected to such violence, to such pain… He ignored a thickening in his chest, feeling the heat rising beneath his collar. The killer knew what he was doing, a real pro, he thought. He was willing to bet his left nut on that fact.

“By the way,” Blake spoke up, reviewing the photos spread across the desk like a child searching for hidden objects in an I Spy illustration. “I struck out on witnesses in the neighborhood near where the body was found. Nobody remembers seeing anything unusual, or they’re not saying if they did. I’ll try again tomorrow. I also thought it might be good to have Connie cross-reference the details of the case with county and neighboring state agencies. You just never know. I asked her to look for comparisons to recent crimes.”

“Is that really necessary?” Parker asked, making an attempt to mask his irritation. The rookie appeared spurned, a failure in the eyes of his teacher. He softened and offered up a lighthearted smile. “Try not to jump to conclusions, Detective. You’ll just end up wasting the department’s time.”

“If this case gets any more attention, the department’s gonna have to hold a press conference.” Perelli leaned back in his chair, the buttons of his shirt fighting to contain his gut and losing the battle.nice line “We should probably get ourselves prepared.”

Parker scowled, though he knew his partner was right. Once media hounds latched onto an investigation like this, it would only be a matter of hours before the public began to demand to hear the top brass to explain what police were doing to keep their city safe. This line seems wordy to me. I’m not 100% sure what top brass refers to. I’m thinking you could drop that part out of the sentence. “And what do we say?” he asked his partner, shoving the stills into a growing case-file. Heat flushed his face as he tried his best to remain calm. “We don’t have much more than what we started with this morning.” He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling tiles, counting the water-stain circles from leaky pipes hovering above his head. “Fucking amazing, ain’t it?”

“What’s that?” Perelli asked, glancing at Blake, who simply shrugged his wide shoulders.

Parker narrowed his eyes. “The body was discovered only this morning, but the public expects a suspect, any suspect, to be in custody already. They want assurances the victim died of his own vices, that the choices he made in life are to blame for what happened. Bad things happen to the perverse, right?” He held his arms out wide. “This, of course, assumed by a shred of evidence found at the scene that may remotely connect the guy to the gay bar down the street. Evidence someone in this department leaked to the press.” He dropped his arms in disgust. “Give me a fucking break!

His colleagues gaped at him with questioning looks, puzzled by his unprovoked diatribe. He continued. “What they want to hear, what they need to know, is that something so sinister, so brutal, could never happen to them, or anyone they might know.” He locked eyes with his partner. “They know nothing about the poor guy. Nothing! Not about his life, not about his family…nothing!” He drew in a deep breath, squeezed his hands into tight fists, trying to contain an eruption from within. “Where do these folks get off passing judgment so quickly? Fucking hypocrites! All of them.”

Perelli stared wide-eyed back at him. “Easy there, buddy. It’s just another case.”

He knew Perelli wasn’t buying into his sentimentalities, because the sour expression etched in the lines of the old man’s face confirmed as much. Blake, on the other hand, sat dumbfounded, never having witnessed one of his outbursts before. His shocked expression shouted for someone to explain what was happening.

Parker looked around. “Look, the point I’m trying to make is that it’s easier for the public to just pass judgment on someone they don’t know, a body without an identity, than it is to accept the reality of it all. What happened to that man found in the park could happen to them, or anyone else they know.”

Perelli sat ramrod straight in his chair, clearly agitated. “It’s just another case, Parker,” Perelli snapped. He stared at his partner expectantly. “Just one out of two dozen or so that need our attention right now.” His voice softened. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, with the accident and all, but --”

Parker cut him off. “That was six weeks ago and it has nothing to do with this case!” Which makes me think it does have something to do with the case…He steeled his temper long enough to search his partner’s eyes for a hint of compassion, but found none.hm… “All I’m saying is, I just can’t write the guy off as another deserving dupe, all right? In spite of the obvious. The guy deserves better. And, it’s up to us to give it to him.”

“Us?” Perelli’s tone turned sour. “Lighten up, will ya? You’re getting too close. Why? Beats the hell out of me, but you’d better get it together soon. Let’s focus on trying to solving the case, Parker, and not on your efforts to sway the opinion of the public, who I just happen to agree with.”

The bridge Did you mean bride? If not, I’m really confused… But that’s nothing new… of Frankenstein staring at him across the desk couldn’t have goaded him more. “He was a goddamn human being, Perelli!” He pleaded with his partner, glancing toward Blake for some assistance. The rookie opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent. He turned back to his partner. “The guy had a life, like you and me. Homosexual or not, he didn’t deserve to be killed the way he was.” Nobody deserves to die like that, his thoughts screamed out.

Perelli scoffed. “Since when did you become so fucking liberal? I know you better than this.” His expression changed, like he was lookinged at a complete stranger and not the partner he’d known for the past four years. “What’s with you lately, huh? You’re not the same guy I saw walk out of here six weeks ago.” He shot up from his seat, knocking back his chair and drawing the attention of a few others not already within earshot of their discussion. “You know I can’t stand fucking liberals.” He snatched up his jacket. Parker stared at the finger jabbed in his direction. “You should’ve taken more time off, Ken. It’s the only sane reason I can think of to explain your fucked-up nonsense.” He secured his gun in a leather holster strapped under his left arm. “It’s late. It been a long day and I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m going home.”

Parker sat transfixed, his body tingling from the rush of blood coursing through his veins. Never before had their personal feelings probed so deep, dipping beneath the guarded barrier often reserved for wives and lovers. Cops were pros at shielding their emotions, those innermost feelings of self worth and doubt, and he could run circles around the best of in the field. His thoughts were a jumble of confusion as he returned his attention to the pad of paper before him on the desk, pen in hand.

What now? His emotions were a mix of anger and confusion. Could it be we’re tiring of each other’s personalities? Was Perelli’s narrow-mindedness, often opinionated disposition threatening to drive a wedge between their friendship? He shook his head to gain some clarity. Why have I all but ignored his well known bigoted comments before now? What’s so different now than any other day last month, last year? Has he changed that much over the past few weeks as some have been suggesting?

Perelli was right about one thing, though. It wasn’t cool to get too emotionally involved in this case. Doing so would only veil his better judgment, complicate matters down the road should he need help from the top brass. No, he couldn’t afford to let his own personal views or perception interfere here.

But, how am I going to solve a case nobody wants to hear about without getting more involved?

The notion of not getting involved was incomprehensible. He contemplated further what had sparked his anger in the first place. Was it the injustice, the blatant bigotry of the man’s death that had him outraged? Or could it be the senselessness of the crime itself? Death was an accepted part of life as we know it. We’re born. We live. We die. Whoever said death was ever fair? Death was as much a part of life as losing ones virginity. Who gets to choose when they did? Bad things happened to undeserving people every day of the week, at every turn. The homeless, the elderly, blacks, Jews, queers…take your pick. Should some of the lines in the last paragraph be in italics?

It all depends on which side of the fence you’re on.

Does anybody care? The man is dead, for chritssakes! He could do nothing to reverse what had happened to the young man. So, why beat your head against the fucking wall? The victim was a member of the silent minority, an immolation of his own self-righteousness, an outcast in the eyes of most. Don’t get bogged down in the particulars? I don’t think this should end with a question mark.

His thoughts drifted to those closest to the victim. The ones who loved the man the most would no doubt suffer the greatest, agonize over his passing and forever question the reasons behind such a senseless act of violence. They will never understand, never forgive. He knew those sentiments all too well, having experienced firsthand the feelings of guilt, of complete helplessness, the anguish ever associated with the loss of a loved one.

The emptiness death leaves behind never goes away.

A loud noise from across the room pulled him out of the reverie. Blake had left for the evening, perhaps right after his partner. He stared down again at the pad resting beneath his hand. His heart jumped as he caught his breath. The letters scribbled across the paper stared back at him like a dark a phantom with its razor-sharp tendrils clutched around his heart and threatening to yank it from his chest. The name was a simple one, but carried with it the weight of his heart that symbolized the conclusive meaning of love and adoration. A name that could as easily send him headlong into castigation as with any other injustice dispensed, and yet a phrase all the same that harbored deep-rooted emotions almost too painful to withstand.

Michael… For a moment, I thought it would say Jason… I guess that wouldn’t make much sense.

He snatched the sheet from the pad, crumpled it into a tight ball and scored three in the wastebasket near Blake’s desk before getting up to leaveperiod

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