05-30-2014, 06:40 PM
The first officers who arrive aren't detectives. The detectives will be coming and the officers get out of their car, confirm Verna's name, ask for identification, all to kill time waiting for another duo to arrive before they are willing to head through the front door.
They aren't waiting long. A second patrol car arrives with a man and woman in uniform, partners partnering up with the first officers on the scene. Backup. It is the police who will clear the interior for suspects lying in wait. It takes a grand total of fifteen minutes where Verna is left waiting outside, asked to wait in her vehicle again.
There aren't any surprises, at least not by the sound of things, other than the occasional, “Denver Police!” Or shouted, “Come out and identify yourself,” though if they'd found anyone there's no gunshots from within or anyone led out in handcuffs.
They return. Their faces are as unchanging as their gilded leaden badges, and maybe one feigns sympathy? It's still hollow. Heavy. Labored. Their radios tell about people found dead across town. That's what their mornings are full of. Bodies found, not flecks and spatters of blood that could really be from anything, because there's no body to go with them, but they're here doing their job.
“The warehouse was empty, ma'am,” confirming what Verna's eyes see. “Were you able to get in touch with the owner or manager?” Manager, owner, like this place is a business and not a place of research and center of learning.
Verna has yet to receive a call back returning her voicemails.
They aren't waiting long. A second patrol car arrives with a man and woman in uniform, partners partnering up with the first officers on the scene. Backup. It is the police who will clear the interior for suspects lying in wait. It takes a grand total of fifteen minutes where Verna is left waiting outside, asked to wait in her vehicle again.
There aren't any surprises, at least not by the sound of things, other than the occasional, “Denver Police!” Or shouted, “Come out and identify yourself,” though if they'd found anyone there's no gunshots from within or anyone led out in handcuffs.
They return. Their faces are as unchanging as their gilded leaden badges, and maybe one feigns sympathy? It's still hollow. Heavy. Labored. Their radios tell about people found dead across town. That's what their mornings are full of. Bodies found, not flecks and spatters of blood that could really be from anything, because there's no body to go with them, but they're here doing their job.
“The warehouse was empty, ma'am,” confirming what Verna's eyes see. “Were you able to get in touch with the owner or manager?” Manager, owner, like this place is a business and not a place of research and center of learning.
Verna has yet to receive a call back returning her voicemails.