Going with the Gut

I called into a bottle-shop on my way to Emma's hotel and bought a bottle of reasonably priced Sauvignon Blanc hoping that she wasn't addicted to Chardonnay.

"Is this some sort of new police procedure that I don't know about, or do you have some ulterior motive for plying me with alcohol?"

"I have a very good reason and it has nothing to do with your current situation. I'm looking to tap into your expertise. In short, I need your professional service."

"How can I help you?"

"I find myself increasingly having problems getting over the trauma of my job. I am forever confronting situations that challenge my ability to cope. It's not so much that a person is dead that bothers me, but the circumstances of that death that I'm having a problem with. I'm finding the reason for, and the methods used, to be something that I just can't get my head around."

"Can't you transfer to another branch, Traffic for instance?"

"Speaking with the guys in Traffic I doubt it. It's not just a matter of issuing speeding tickets, they have to attend accidents and are constantly being confronted with a senseless waste of perfectly good lives, so no, that's not an option."

"I could try to help but I don't think that I can do much good while you're still a cop."

"Part of my problem is the lack of a shoulder to cry on."

"Where is this heading?"

"I mean that in a professional way, someone who has experience in dealing with this to guide me in coping. Did you think I was suggesting that I was wanting more than that?"

"Well, no. You said that the person being dead doesn't bother you, why not?"

"I've had a long think about death and, to me, it's a case of the person no longer in need of a body. I'm not a believer in the existence of heaven as a physical place, to me we move to the next phase in our spiritual lives. Our spirit does not die when our body does and when our body dies we no longer feel pain."

"A very interesting concept. Tell me, are you a Christian?"

"Yes, and being a Christian is in no way in conflict with that concept. To me, heaven is a church construct, a carrot on a stick, to get people to live in obedience with the dictates of the church."

"You surprise me."

"How so?"

"I would never have taken you as one to be so philosophical about life and religion."

"When I'm confronted with the things than one person can inflict on another I find myself doubting the existence of God. This way I can externalise the situation in a way that doesn't involve God."

"But you still have a problem coping with all of this."

"Yes. My colleagues and I discuss our cases and I can see that they are not coping all that well either. It doesn't matter how we rationalise the situation, talking about it with someone who is also involved just doesn't help. I'm thinking that someone, a person such as yourself, that is not directly involved in the situation would be better for me."

"I'll think about it. No how about pouring me a glass of that wine that brought with you to butter me up."

"That will have to wait. I'm to take you to see our Pathologist, she wants to take a blood sample to see if it matches the blood on the rock."

"What rock?"

"The one that I found on the other side of the track yesterday."

We headed down the road to the police station. "Emma this is Doctor Foster, Doctor Foster this is the young lady that was caressed by that rock yesterday."

Melanie looked at Emma. "Would you listen to him, so formal, it's usually Melanie when he wants something like a blood match from this rock, but at other times he's positively insulting."

"Don't listen to her, she's having you on. I am the epitome of decorum."

"Let's have a look at you." Melanie said. She was able to take a swab from the as yet unhealed wound and placed it in a test tube. "It'll take some time to run the necessary tests on this but you'll have a preliminary result this afternoon. Now take this lovely lady back to wherever you're hiding her and let me get on with my work."

"She's nice, is there anything going on between the two of you?" Emma asked as we left the lab.

"No, for starters her husband is a man mountain and protective of her, so I'm not going there, and she's not my type, she's smart."

"Are you fishing for compliments?"

"You got me."

"Didn't you say something about wine earlier on?"

I got a couple of glasses and poured us each a glass of wine. "I hope that you like it, I took a punt on this."

She took a sip. "Not bad. Not top shelf, but definitely not from the cheap bins."

We skirted the issues until the bottle was empty, spending the time getting to know each other. At the end of that time, I was beginning to regret having told her that I wasn't wanting anything more than her professional expertise. I stood up. "I think I had better leave before I find myself wanting more from you."

"Even if I tell you that I find myself attracted to you?" She was close to me as if she wanted me to kiss her.

"Especially if you tell me that. I'm obliged not to get involved on a personal level with a case."

"The case won't go on forever." She caught my look. "I would like to see you on a professional level, it would give me the opportunity to experience your life from a non-academic perspective. Textbooks tend not to teach reality."

"I'm all yours." It came out before I realised the implications. "One of the scenarios that I have a real problem with is when I am confronted with an attractive young woman, someone I could see myself wanting to spend time with, who has been killed in such a way as to be no longer attractive. Sometimes it is as a result of her making a wrong decision, other times it is the consequence of a random act of violence. It all seems so pointless, being cut down in her prime before she has the chance to reach her full potential."

"Do you feel the same way about men?"

"At times yes, generally speaking men tend to be killed for a reason, not some random killing. Their deaths seem to lack the emotional circumstances of women's deaths. For instance, more women are killed as a result of domestic violence than men, and there seems to be an irrational element to domestic violence."

"Like a man jealously believing his wife or partner is having an affair?"

"A high percentage would fit into that category, yes."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought."

"And that is part of the problem. I wish that I could get these thoughts out of my head."

"But that's who you are. These thoughts will always be there."

"So you don't think you can help me?"

"I didn't say that. I would like to help you and we have managed to get through the first part of that process."

"We have?"

"Yes, we have. What we have discussed has defined what your problem is and has suggested to me a solution."

"I'm all ears."

"You mentioned that you are missing a shoulder to cry on. This will be our starting point. I will become your shoulder. You can't talk to your colleagues because they are experiencing the same thoughts as you. I will listen to you from a different perspective and one that I hope, that I'm confident of, will help you. The upside is that I won't charge you for the service because you will become my research subject. Who knows I could become famous as a result."

"And I suppose that this will involve many consultations?"

"Unfortunately yes, but I am looking forward to it."

"Aren't you afraid that you will lose your objectivity?"

"I'm not afraid of that, in fact, I hope that it happens because it will allow me to investigate this situation and how it impacts on relationships."

"So, I might be wrong and if I am, I ask that you let me down gently, are you hinting that you want a relationship with me?"

"And here I've been led to believe that cops are stupid."

"What if it impacts on my objectivity, on my ability to properly investigate this case?"

"Am I to believe that objectivity and proper investigation are somehow involved?"She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I thought about this. "I think that I'm going to have to withdraw from this case."

"Does this mean that I won't be able to see you again?"

"No. It's just that I won't be working directly on this case."

Emma was still standing close to me. She moved even closer and kissed me. "That's a sample of what you will get from me." Her arms were now around my neck.

My hands were on her hips, pulling her closer to me so that she could feel my enthusiasm for closer contact. I returned her kiss and felt the pressure from her hips and its effect on my seemingly forever, but no longer, dormant cock. "Mmmm." We both said, and the vibration of our lips adding to our pleasure.

I withdrew from her. "I really should get back to work."

"I can't tempt you to stay?"

"You can, but I will have to resist. Hold that thought until after work."

"Goody." She kissed me once more and I left her.

"I'm going to have to withdraw from this case." I was in the Inspector's office.

"Why? I'll need a good reason to let you go. I was counting on you to get to the bottom of this quickly."

"I understand, but it was while I was interviewing Emma Spencer that I saw an opportunity to get some help with a problem that I have had for years, and it's one that many of the men in the force are having."

"You have me intrigued, go on."

"For quite some time I have been having a problem coming to terms with seeing the sheer waste of young lives, to the point where I have been contemplating seeking professional help before it gets to the point of no return. It is taking me longer to get over the fact of my powerlessness. Emma is a trauma counsellor and she deals with this sort of situation on a daily basis. She has asked, and I have agreed to, if you approve that is, to assist her with her research into this in the hope of coming to some treatment strategies to assist police and ambulance first responders to cope with the trauma of being confronted with this situation on a daily basis. I would like to take this opportunity to join her with her research. If that means I have to take a leave of absence then so be it."

"I'll give it some thought and discuss it with higher authorities and get back to you. This is not something that I can approve, way above my pay grade. In the meantime, hand over your notes to Doug."

I handed over my case notes to Doug James. "It's all yours, I'm no longer on the case."

"Oh, I thought that you were keen to get her husband for it, what has changed your mind?"

"I was getting a little too close to this investigation. I've spoken to the boss and he agrees. He left the choice up to me, the case or her Emma that is, I chose her. That's not to say that I'm no longer interested in the case."

Dinner with Emma was borderline perfect. I gave her the option of staying at her hotel or coming home with me. She chose home with me. Our carnal pyrotechnics were, to me, perfection itself. Don't get me wrong, I have had some pleasant sexual experiences in the past but nothing like this.

"Tell me, how do you cope with what you see and what you have to do?" We were sitting in the kitchen having a breakfast of toast and coffee. This is a change for me. Emma insisted that coffee on its own was not a fit breakfast for a strapping young man such as myself. "You have to keep your strength and stamina up. I can't have you running out of puff in the middle of sex."

"Who was it that was puffing and blowing last night? You should talk."

"Shit, you don't even know the difference between puffing and blowing and the sounds of orgasmic delight."

"Now I suppose that you're going to tell me that you had a real orgasm and were not faking it."

"As if you'd know the difference. Let me tell you that what I had last night was a genuine, one hundred percent perfect, orgasm. You don't honestly believe that what came out of my pussy was all you, do you?"

"Well, I had been on short rations of late."

"You should talk. Don't get me wrong, Byron has had his dick in often enough, just long enough to shoot his load but not long enough for me to experience an orgasm." Emma said. "Changing the subject back, how do you cope?"

"Most times, I and I speak for others, go to the pub and get shit-faced. We have this sort of barometer of stress levels. It's all about after work pub sessions, the higher the stress the more pub sessions we have. If it's really bad we might take a couple of days off and really tie one on. It deadens the pain to a certain extent but it's temporary at best."

"Have you ever sought counselling?"

"Yes, but it's difficult for a Psychologist to get his head around something that he has no experience with. This is not something you read about in textbooks."

"There has been an extensive study into PTSD of late, we are making some good progress."

"It's neither good enough nor fast enough. Something that cannot be factored in is that different people are affected differently and have different coping mechanisms. There is no one size fits all solution to this problem."

"While you're at work I shall give your problem a great deal of thought."

"What you need to do is to realise that there was nothing you could have done to prevent the trauma that you are faced with."

"My problem isn't that realisation. While I am there I feel nothing, the adrenalin rush completely blocks out any thoughts on the matter. A second sense kicks in and I do what I have to do. It is what happens after it is all over that's the problem. Once the adrenalin stops, my feeling of helplessness kicks in. How to stop the aftershock is my problem. Sure I can numb the pain with booze, and it lasts for a while, but it never fully stops. Just when I think that I'm over it, a new trauma ends up in my lap and it's back to square one. I don't know how long I can take this. The number of first responders that end up, either needing chemical assistance to cope or commit suicide and join the statistics of those that just gave up."

"I would have thought that, and this has been stated often, over time it becomes easier."

"It never gets easier, sure your coping method can improve, but sometimes it's not enough, there's a breaking point where nothing can help. I heard of a train driver that had been involved, over a thirty-year career, thirteen fatalities, eleven of which were suicides, people jumping in front of his train. Can you imagine what that must have done to him over the years? (Before you cry BS to this case, that man was my father. CM) it was the last fatality, in this case, not one of the suicides, that was his breaking point and one that he never recovered from. I would not like to end up like that man."

"What happened to him?"

"He was placed on a cocktail of medications that were supposed to enable him to get a good night's sleep, but it didn't work, he was plagued by recurring nightmares of that nano-second before the body crashed into the train right in front of him, of having to uncouple the carriages and move them to allow access to the remains. Then there was the memory of another fatality. Some teenagers were skylarking on a train that was travelling in the opposite direction to his train. One of them had forced the automatic door and was hanging out of the train. The two trains passed at high speed (Each would have been travelling at over 100 kilometres per hour) and he was sucked out and smashed between the two trains. This man could tell you exactly what the kid was wearing, the image was fleeting but vivid. And then there were the inevitable Coronial Inquests that he had to attend, they didn't help the situation. He did not receive trauma counselling because that didn't exist at the time, he was expected to continue driving, even to the point of continuing his shift. The only good, if you can call it that, thing to come from this was that the medication dulled his memory in his final years."

"I can understand why you so much want to help me solve this problem."

"There was another upside, one of his neighbours was also a train driver, it was he that found him when he had his nervous breakdown, he decided that he could not put himself through the same stresses, so applied for a transfer into Traffic Control Branch. One of the first things he achieved was, following an incident, to have the driver removed from service and to be given help to overcome the trauma. It was too little, too late for this man."

"Do you think that police and other first responders should have the same treatment?"

"I do, but the economic imperative won't allow that. There are not enough staff to cover those receiving treatment."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Yes, last night while we were making love, I completely forgot about my trauma problems."

"So you're suggesting that continuous sex is the answer?"

"It worked for me."

"But nothing would get done?"

"You got done last night, or had you forgotten that?"

"You're fishing for compliments here, you want me to say that the sex we had last night was unforgettable and is permanently etched into my memory."

"Well?"

"Okay, it was the most amazing sex I have ever had, and I want more, so much more of it. There, are you satisfied?"

"I will be." I grabbed her and, if she wasn't so willing, I would have dragged her back to our bed.

We woke in the morning, me with a memory clear of any trauma, and made love again before I had to get out of bed and go to work. Emma purred like a kitten when I bent to kiss her. I was very tempted to forget about work, she had that effect on me.

Doug called me over as soon as I got to work. "We've had a breakthrough in the case."

"Okay, who did it and why?"

"I have explicit orders to send you down to see the fabulous, her words not mine. Doctor Foster. She has all the good news, again her words."

"Hello stud, how're they hanging?" Not the greeting I expected from Melanie Foster.

"Fine if you must know. Now, what is this news that you have for me?"

"I hope that you haven't become too attached to Ms Spencer."

"I didn't take you for a jealous person."

"As if. It seems as if Ms Spencer is not the squeaky clean person she would have us believe. That rock that you found proved to be very interesting. Yes, there were prints on it, nice clear prints, and we managed to get a perfect match with prints on record for Ms Spencer, although she wasn't Spencer back then. She has been a very naughty girl has your Ms Spencer, a bit of a con artist in her time. She would go to extreme lengths to score the hit, even to breaking her own arm, although it might have been an accident when she dived over the bushes to avoid her husband if he came looking for her."

"I suppose that there's more?"

"She was a person of interest for a while in the death of Byron's first wife. She managed to shift the blame for that onto Byron, with whom she had been having an affair at the time."

"I suppose that you're about to tell me that the officer investigating the death was young and impressionable?"

"You must have had your Weeties this morning. Yes he was, he was taken in by her charms and believed everything that she told him."

"So you think that I've been taken in by her charms, is that it?"

"Well?"

"Okay, I admit that I believe her but there has been something bothering me about the whole affair. I think that I need to speak with Doug about this."

"Before you go." She walked over to me and kissed me, hard. "The old boy is out of town tonight, why don't you come around and let me distract you."

"I know that you aren't married. Be careful I might just take you up on your invite."

"Have you been checking up on me? That bit of information is not for public knowledge. While the guys think that I'm married to the Incredible Hulk, I'm relatively safe. I'll make an exception in your case. You can drop by any time you like, like tonight."