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Jamieson hadn't remembered being this tired since his last tour of duty. It had been a hellacious long night. The divers had pulled multiple shifts. The situation was becoming truly bizzarre in a way that made the double homicide seem absurdly banal.
The boys initial statement had been hysterical chaos, he seemed to be experiencing psychosis. The doctor prescribed a dermal sedative and after some preliminary talks with the local 'crown' (Crown Attorney's were the DA's of Canada) he sent the boy home with his foils and posted a cruiser on site. The flight risk was zero but due diligence had to maintained.
Accidental death and hysterical guilt or a downright fratricide were the ugly likliehoods in this kind of situation. It was very unsettling; he knew the boys. Decent kids.
Then the evidence started coming together and his pespective started to warp. After the first dive he stopped to see the men on site. The North pier was dotted with work lamps.
Russel and Ken were life-long rescue divers. They had found and retrieved dozens of bodies, sometimes only the remains. Seasoned experts that approached every situation with good humored professionalism. Not today however.
Russ was heading back to Kenny carrying two spear guns and was handing one over when Jamieson arrived. He nodded to them.
"Bad, Chief." said Russel.
Jamieson gestured at the weapon Ken held.
"Best not to ask." Russel looked at the cop meaningfully.
"Ain't gonna lie, it's fucked up." Ken primed the speargun and attached it to a mount on his left forearm, "Doan wanna report much until we've had a chance to ruminate."
Their drysuits were festooned with hoses, straps, lights, carabiners and pouches. Ken donned his facemask, two huge lamps on either side. He turned to Russ who activated his back lights before donning his in turn. Kenny returned the favor as Russ clipped his spear gun on. It was primed as well.
"We're going down again," Russ turned to Jamieson, his voice dampened by the mask, "We'll grab a few more pics and then get a report together over chow."
Though they dropped into the dark water withought hesitation, this was the first time he had ever detected fear in these men. That bothered him more than he was willing to admit.
By the time Jamieson had returned from the Crown's office, the report was on his desk, including the scrawled field notes, photos and a cleanly printed summary. Despite his gruff persona, Ken was very computer proficient and ran a media studio.
He was relieved that there was a lot of corroborating evidence to support the boys preliminary statements.
The problem was what it meant.
He chose not to go there for the time being. Inevitably, there was going to be a face to face interview with his primary suspect. He was sure he would not like hearing the details. If the kid was telling the truth, and Jamieson would have to make sure of that, he wasn't certain at all what that would mean or how to proceed.
It was an unfamiliar sensation to him. Bad or good, a timely made decision was always better than the best decision too late. He made it.
Firstly, he neede to make damn sure the kid wasn't the perp and then deal with wherever and whatever the evidence let them too. If the military taught him anything it was to know when something was above his pay grade. He picked up his desk phone.
"Ana, would you check in with the coroner and schedule an interview asap then the Chinooks later this morning. I have to wash and change." She confirmed.
He looked around his office. He knew if he sat any longer he'd fall asleep. 'Five, four, three, two...' with a sigh he got up and grabbed a toiletries bag from his bottom drawer. He kept a change of clothes in his locker, a useful habit for people stuck at work during a blizzard. He headed for the change rooms. It was going to be a very long day.