- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Online Availability
- It varies day to day!
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Modern, Medieval, Odd Pairings
"It is 'Agent' Nelson, not Officer but I would understand why you would be confused." Nelson was quick to correct Dean after the Officer had addressed him with the improper title, woefully unaware of how rigid it made him seem. But Nelson had worked long and hard to get where he had gotten today, and figured the outside world would see it as much as he. His badge had never lost it's shine from the day he got it, and it was displayed proudly to the backdrop of his brown, woolen vest.
Nelson slowly hunched over his desk to get a look at Marco, he admired dogs, especially the K9 dogs, he could hardly imagine working in an airport without them. "Good boy, Marco," Nelson said, it sounded like a cross between talking to a dog and talking to a child. "Highest quality, I would say," Nelson added, reclining back in his seat. His facial expression tightened when he heard about the cocaine, of course he hadn't suspected her to be smuggling icing sugar across the border. He sympathized with Dean's look of surprise when it was revealed Dahlia was a small link in a big chain.
"Unsuspecting as they come, innocent as they come." He shuffled through the files until he pulled out a single piece of paper from the mix, and put on a small pare of spectacles to read it. "In 2006, Dahlia Harper was pulled over by a police officer for driving between the hours of ten to six while still a new driver. She had driven to pick up her inebriated sister from a house party, the officer who spoke with her decided against charging her. This is the extend of Miss Harper's record, she's live in Chicago her entire life, too. She is of the same stock as the other victims of said fish." He motioned his head towards the other files. "Rebecca Meuller, Madison Derkson," Nelson paused and shifted uncomfortably, "Elizabeth Doyle." He offered up the paper-thin files of the women he mentioned, all like Dahlia, squeaky clean.
Nelson was glad to see Dean's interest in the task, knowing it would be daunting to many, but Nelson saw something in the young officer. "It would be a one-off, to start, but judging on what we can get done," Nelson grinned and arched his eyebrows. "Michael Anderson, director of the Chicago FBI, is a personal friend of many years." He decided to let the implication play itself out in Dean's head as they got further down to business. Nelson rotated the screen of his computer towards Dean, where Dahlia was sitting still on her bed, picking at her fingernails nervously.
"I consider myself to be a man of compassion, I try as I must to reflect the image the Lord has in mind, but in our careers there is often little leeway for compassion. Speaking to these three girls, hearing their stories, it upsets and angers me," Nelson said, turning off the computer monitor once the female officer arrived in Dahlia's cell. "What I want to do here, is find the man she calls Roy, whoever he turns out to be. I would like to clear the name of Miss Harper, and if possible, Miss Meuller and Miss Doyle for the so-called 'crimes' they committed." He was careful not to mention Miss Derkson. He paused as he thought of the best way to word his proposal, without it sounding like a shot in the dark.
"We can offer Miss Harper her temporary freedom to help us with whatever she knows about Roy. He's been operating this game in Chicago for at least fifteen years. Places he eats, shops at, if he has a property he took her to, friends she knows. Anything that Miss Harper can give us, I want to know. She said earlier that she remembers everything? I want you to put that to the test." Nelson arched his fingers as he reclined once again in his chair, letting Dean take in all the information, and admired the quizzical look on Marco's face.
Nelson slowly hunched over his desk to get a look at Marco, he admired dogs, especially the K9 dogs, he could hardly imagine working in an airport without them. "Good boy, Marco," Nelson said, it sounded like a cross between talking to a dog and talking to a child. "Highest quality, I would say," Nelson added, reclining back in his seat. His facial expression tightened when he heard about the cocaine, of course he hadn't suspected her to be smuggling icing sugar across the border. He sympathized with Dean's look of surprise when it was revealed Dahlia was a small link in a big chain.
"Unsuspecting as they come, innocent as they come." He shuffled through the files until he pulled out a single piece of paper from the mix, and put on a small pare of spectacles to read it. "In 2006, Dahlia Harper was pulled over by a police officer for driving between the hours of ten to six while still a new driver. She had driven to pick up her inebriated sister from a house party, the officer who spoke with her decided against charging her. This is the extend of Miss Harper's record, she's live in Chicago her entire life, too. She is of the same stock as the other victims of said fish." He motioned his head towards the other files. "Rebecca Meuller, Madison Derkson," Nelson paused and shifted uncomfortably, "Elizabeth Doyle." He offered up the paper-thin files of the women he mentioned, all like Dahlia, squeaky clean.
Nelson was glad to see Dean's interest in the task, knowing it would be daunting to many, but Nelson saw something in the young officer. "It would be a one-off, to start, but judging on what we can get done," Nelson grinned and arched his eyebrows. "Michael Anderson, director of the Chicago FBI, is a personal friend of many years." He decided to let the implication play itself out in Dean's head as they got further down to business. Nelson rotated the screen of his computer towards Dean, where Dahlia was sitting still on her bed, picking at her fingernails nervously.
"I consider myself to be a man of compassion, I try as I must to reflect the image the Lord has in mind, but in our careers there is often little leeway for compassion. Speaking to these three girls, hearing their stories, it upsets and angers me," Nelson said, turning off the computer monitor once the female officer arrived in Dahlia's cell. "What I want to do here, is find the man she calls Roy, whoever he turns out to be. I would like to clear the name of Miss Harper, and if possible, Miss Meuller and Miss Doyle for the so-called 'crimes' they committed." He was careful not to mention Miss Derkson. He paused as he thought of the best way to word his proposal, without it sounding like a shot in the dark.
"We can offer Miss Harper her temporary freedom to help us with whatever she knows about Roy. He's been operating this game in Chicago for at least fifteen years. Places he eats, shops at, if he has a property he took her to, friends she knows. Anything that Miss Harper can give us, I want to know. She said earlier that she remembers everything? I want you to put that to the test." Nelson arched his fingers as he reclined once again in his chair, letting Dean take in all the information, and admired the quizzical look on Marco's face.