Officer Emelie Vikander Pt. 01

Emelie approached him and fell into step next to him. "Weekly shopping, huh?"

Kofi lifted a bag to show a packet of toilet paper sticking out from the top. "Yeah, you never want to run short of this stuff!"

Emelie laughed. "Yeah, I hate it when that happens!" she said. "Need a hand?" she asked. He gave her a smile and handed her a bag, "Sure."

The walked down the street towards the apartment block. "So, how you been?" Kofi asked. "I heard from a couple of shop owners in the area that you've been stopping by, always keen for a chat."

"That's my job," Emelie said. Kofi gave her another grin. Aren't you supposed to be out there, shooting up criminals, arresting drug kingpins?" he asked.

Emelie rolled her eyes. "This isn't Hollywood. Most of what we do is actually just talking to people. I certainly don't go around slapping handcuffs on people or shooting them." She gave him a serious look. "Ok, well sometimes I do."

Kofi stared at her for a moment before realizing she was joking. He let out a little laugh. "Ok, so what do you do?"

"Help people. Connect with people. I'm an IFO; my team, its purpose is to connect with people, listen to them, engage with them."

"IFO?" he asked, a quizzical expression on his face. "I'm an Interracial Liaison Officer. An IFO," Emelie explained. "We're here to build connections with the community, especially migrant communities that might not feel welcomed to Nordland. We're here to show that they are." She waved her hand around at the people walking by, entering the apartment buildings, playing in the playgrounds.

Kofi nodded as they headed towards the door to his apartment block. "Sorry, lift is out of order. You don't mind a climb?" Emelie shook her head.

They headed up the dingy stairwell towards his floor. "Listen, if you're here to help...maybe there are some things that you can help the community with," Kofi said.

Her curiosity piqued, Emelie replied, "Of course, what's the issue?"

Kofi stopped at the front door of his apartment. He looked around and then leaned in close, his voice low and urgent. "There's something you should know," he said, his eyes flickering with intensity. "There's a group of small-time drug dealers operating in this area. They're preying on vulnerable African migrants, exploiting their desperation for their own gain."

Emelie felt a surge of anger at the thought of innocent people being taken advantage of by unscrupulous criminals. "Do you have any information on them?" she asked, her voice determined. This was why she was here -- to help the community.

Kofi nodded, a steely resolve in his gaze. "I know some of their names and where they operate," he said. "I've been keeping an eye on them, trying to gather as much information as I can."

He turned and unlocked the door to his apartment. "Let me put this away and I'll give you the details."

Ten minutes later, Emelie emerged, the information safely contained in her trusty police notebook. She turned to look at Kofi, a determined look in her eyes.

"Thank you for trusting me with this information," Emelie said, her voice sincere. "I'll make sure it doesn't go to waste."

True to her word, Emelie wasted no time in acting. Over the next several days, several small-time drug dealers were apprehended by Emelie and the IFO team.

As she stood in front of her Lieutenant, receiving his praise for engaging with the community and gaining valuable street-level intelligence, Emelie couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Kofi. Without his help and cooperation, none of these arrests would have been possible. She started to feel a growing connection to the migrant groups in the district.

Little did she know how much her life was the change in the coming days and weeks as a result of the information he had provided her.

*****

Emelie cautiously made her way down the alley, her eyes, and ears alert for any signs of suspicious activity. Peering around a corner she saw a young African youth standing about two dozen meters away, he was handing over a small packet to a young Nordland man. The pair were standing in an alleyway that Kofi had told her was often used for deals by the local drug gang.

She ducked back around the corner and reached for the radio microphone on her vest. "Aurora, Bravo Charlie Sierra Six Nine, suspicious activity alleyway off Strondhein Road, investigating now. Over."

"Roger, Bravo Charlie Sierra Six Nine, report when able. Out"

Taking a deep breath, Emelie moved around the corner, her boots crunching on the broken concrete of the alleyway. "Hey there, what's going on here?" she called out, her hands on her duty belt.

The two young men looked up at her in surprise. As she had been taught at the Academy, she automatically generated a visual description of the two of them in her mind.

Youth: African, 175cm, late teens, lean build, short curly hair, blue jacket, and green tracksuit pants.

Man: Caucasian, 170cm tall, mid-20s, solid build, wavy blonde hair, black jacket, and jeans.

Time seemed to slow for Emelie at that instant as everything became as crystal clear as an ultra high-definition television picture. The youth pulled a small caliber pistol from the front of his tracksuit pants as the man started to turn to flee. Emelie watched in horror as the youth pointed the pistol at her, pulling the trigger.

The alleyway was filled with the sound of the gunshot as the bullet whizzed past her head, smashing into the wall next to her, showering her with tiny shards of brickwork. Emelie felt the sting of them hitting her, as her hand moved automatically to her holster. Drawing her Glock pistol, she went through her drills in her mind.

Eye. Sights. Target. All in a line. Look for the center of seen mass.

She applied pressure to the trigger and the crack of the gunshot startled her, loud and deafening to her ears without her hearing protection on. A second crack sounded in the confines of the alley.

Two rounds. Double tap. Center of seen mass.

The youth was thrown backwards, the pistol flying from his hand to clatter to the ground as the two 9mm hollow-point bullets punched through his chest, carving a lethal path through his vital organs. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, his body twitching.

Emelie moved as if she was in a dream, her arms and feet feeling like she was moving through glue. She staggered towards the body of the youth lying on the ground, her pistol still aimed at him. He wasn't moving but she wasn't taking any chances. The other figure moved in her peripheral vision heading for the other end of the alleyway; the other man who'd been standing with the black youth.

"Don't move!" Emelie screamed, her pistol swinging towards him, her finger on the trigger, her eyes wild with the adrenaline flowing through her body. "Don't fucking move!" He froze, his hands in the air. She could see the terrified look in his eyes and a detached part of her wondered what she looked like to him.

She was still standing there, in a daze, her pistol covering the shaking man, as the sirens blared in the distance. Figures in blue flooded the alleyway; friends and colleagues, rushing in to secure the man and check on the youth.

Arms wrapped around Emelie, helping her to the pavement, securing her pistol in her holster. Eventually she was led to a patrol car and sat down on the back seat, her eyes still wide with shock. She looked down the alley and saw paramedics and police clustered around the body lying on the ground.

In a daze she was taken back to the police station, and Emelie found herself going through the post-shooting debriefing process. Mandatory blood and urine samples were taken from her under the watchful gaze of a police nurse. Afterwards, she found herself marched into a debriefing room where Lieutenant Andersson and several Sergeants sat at the table.

Under their unblinking gaze, Emelie unloaded her pistol, placing it and her magazines in the plastic evidence bag on the table, certifying that no one else had touched it since the shooting. With her back erect against the chair, she had sat there, her blue eyes emotionless as she explained what had happened in the alley.

The debriefing took nearly two hours, every detail of her actions in the alleyway was scrutinized. Mid way through, a Sergeant had entered the room and told the assembled police officers that the youth, Malik Keita, had been pronounced deceased in the alleyway. Emelie had taken the news without reaction, sitting there motionless in the chair.

Finally, Emelie had been dismissed. She had been placed on seventy-two hours of leave and was not to speak to any other officers about the shooting while the investigation took place. Silently, she made her way back to her locker to change out of her uniform. Just as her hand touched the cool metal handle, her eyes widened, and she dashed to the bathroom. She just made it to a cubicle before vomiting into the bowl.

*****

Placing the bottle of Nordlandic whiskey down on the table, Emelie felt the burning warmth of the liquid as it flowed down her throat. It had been a present from her father, a gift to celebrate her graduation from the Academy and had sat on the shelf since then. Now it was a tool, a way for her to try and understand, to make sense of what had happened.

She paced her apartment, the tension and frustration growing inside her. Emelie wanted to talk to someone, anyone, to let them know how she felt, the burning frustration and despair in her heart that she had been forced to take a life. She knew this was a possibility, ever since she'd decided to join the Police Service, but she had never thought it would happen to her.

The rules were clear -- seventy-two hours of mandatory leave post the debriefing. Seventy-two hours where Emelie was not legally allowed to speak any other police officers about what had happened, lest it interfere with the obligatory investigation.

Sven had been right when he'd said long ago that she was a rule follower; she was a rule follower. Right now, she hated this fact. She took another mouthful of the whiskey, the burning sensation not helping her think any more clearly.

Why, Emelie thought? Why had Malik reached for that pistol, she thought to herself? She hated that she had been pushed into a situation where she had been forced to shoot him dead, on the streets of her hometown.

She looked around her small apartment, wondering what to do. Call her father? He'd tell her to sit tight, wait for the investigation to be completed. Speak to her friends? Most of them, at least all the close ones, were fellow police officers so she couldn't even message any of them about what was going on in her mind. Even Sven had been specifically warned by his Watch Commander not to speak to her about the incident in the confines of their apartment, lest it potentially interfere with the investigation.

Emelie's mind turned to Kofi. Perhaps he'd understand? At the very least, he might be able to shed some light as to why Malik had pulled a pistol on her. He wasn't a police officer so there was no way that her talking to him could interfere with the investigation. She reached for the bottle again.

The more and more she thought about it the more it sounded like a good idea. Rushing to her bedroom, Emelie pulled off her hoodie, t-shirt and tracksuit pants leaving them in a messy pile on the floor near the bed. Dressed in just her bra, panties, and sports socks, she made her way to the wardrobe, pulling it open and peering inside. I really need to sort through everything in here, she thought to herself.

She quickly grabbed a simple green blouse, a pair of jeans and a brown leather jacket. She pulled these clothes on quickly, leaving her blonde hair in a simple, messy ponytail. Rummaging in the bottom of the wardrobe, Emelie quickly found a pair of ankle boots that she pulled on over her feet.

Grabbing her phone, wallet, and keys, Emelie dashed out the door, headed for her car parked in the apartment block carpark. Turning on the engine and clipping her belt in place, she desperately hoped that Kofi would have some answers.

*****

Emelie drove nervously through the darkened estate and the multi-story apartment buildings that loomed over her. Several of the streetlights were out as she pulled up in front of Kofi's apartment block. He was on level 2. Apartment 210, she recalled from her previous visit.

Parking her car, she looked around. The space that had been so busy, so lively during the day, was now silent and deserted at night, wrapping her in an eerie feeling. The beeping of Emelie's car alarm echoed loudly across the windswept car park as she headed towards the entrance to Kofi's building.

Making her way up the stairs, she heard the sounds of laughter, music and a television playing in the background. People living their own unique lives behind each closed door. An unfamiliar scent wafted through the air; spices, Emelie thought? Another, more familiar, scent caught her attention as she realized someone nearby was smoking a joint.

Reaching Kofi's front door, Emelie banged on it with her fist. Once. Twice. Three times. She hoped that he was home.

To her relief, a moment later she heard movement inside the apartment and with the flicking of latches, the door opened to reveal Kofi standing barefoot in the dim light of his hallway. He was dressed simply in a pair of red tracksuit pants and white t-shirt. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Emelie.

"Emelie? What are you doing here?" he asked as he took in the sight of the young Nordic policewoman standing at his door in the middle of the night. He could see that her eyes were wide, and he caught a whiff of alcohol. Her already pale complexion looked even more paler in the dim light.

"Are you ok?" he asked, a touch of concern breaking through in his voice. "I...I need to talk...to anyone...about what happened..." she said in a low, trembling voice. "The...shooting...what I did..."

"What about your colleagues? The police?" he said, confused. She shook her head. "I...I can't talk to them...not allowed to..." She looked at him with a touch of wild desperation in her eyes. "Please...I need to talk about it..."

Kofi nodded, opening the door further and inviting her into his apartment. She stumbled towards the source of light, the kitchen. Closing the door behind her, he followed her to the warmth and light of the kitchen. She was standing in the kitchen, looking lost and uncertain.

"Have a seat," he told her, waving his hand and she sat down on a chair at the small kitchen table in the center of the room. "What's going on?" he asked, standing nearby, his arms crossed across his chest. The kitchen was warm, with an inviting aroma of smells, most of which Emelie couldn't identify.

Emelie was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. Kofi could tell her mind was reliving events back at the alley. The community had all heard about it. Something like this couldn't be kept quiet. Police shootings in Nordland were rare occurrences. He'd spent the afternoon at the local community center, trying to calm the fears of the local community. "Why?" she whispered. "Why did he do it?"

She lifted her face to look at Kofi, desperately seeking answers from him. He knew that emotions were running high out in the community. Malik had been a known drug-dealer, but he was a youth, someone with a future. "I'm sorry, Emelie. I don't know why..." Kofi said softly as he shook his head. He moved towards the kitchen bench, to prepare a cup of coffee for her; by the looks of her she could certainly use something to drink that wasn't alcoholic.

"I...I had to shoot him..." Emelie whispered. The cold, horrible reality of her job had been laid clear to her, peeling back the façade of her perfect, safe, respectable life. "I...had to do it..." she whispered.

Kofi nodded as he prepared the drink. "It is a terrible tragedy, the loss of a young life," he said. He hadn't expected this to be the outcome of the information he had provided her. Malik should have been given a slap on the wrist and sent on his way, a warning not to deal drugs; but now he was dead.

He heard Emelie whisper something and he turned to look at her. "Sorry?" Kofi asked, a quizzical look on his dark face.

"I...I could have been killed..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That...that bullet...it almost hit me..." Kofi could see the trembling of her lip as she grappled with the swirling emotions inside of her. The anger, the fear, the frustration, the despair, the anxiety, the guilt. Emelie swung her gaze towards him, blue eyes burning bright with accusatory fury.

"You...you sent me there..." her voice was a harsh whisper. He sighed. He knew this would come up, there was no hiding from it.

Kofi nodded, turning to face her. "Yes, that's true, Emelie. But it is not something that I thought would happen..."

"I...I could have been killed because of you," Emelie hissed, her emotions turning towards anger as Kofi saw her blue eyes flare brightly. He moved towards her; the coffee forgotten on the bench. His hands held up in a calming gesture. "Emelie...it's ok...you're safe..." Kofi told her.

Emelie looked at him wild-eyed, her breathing starting to race faster and faster. "I...I had to do it...he was going to kill me...I had to do it..." she said as she started to choke up. "I had to shoot him...dead..." she whispered before she exploded into a howl of sobbing. The powerful emotions that had formed inside of her since the shooting were released in an uncontrollable swirl of anger, fear, hatred, anxiety, guilt, and a host of other raw emotions that she couldn't even identify.

He moved around the table, reaching for her arm to comfort and console her. "Emelie, it's ok...it wasn't your fault..." he said softly. As Kofi's hand touched her arm, Emelie recoiled violently as she looked up at him and shrieked, "Don't! Don't touch me!"

Emelie sat there in the chair, her breath coming in sharp, heaving sobs as her sparkling blue eyes blazed with an intensity Kofi had never seen before. Suddenly, she leapt up, wrapping her pale arms around his neck, crushing her lips to his in an extreme and powerful release of the emotions that had built up inside of her. The post-traumatic stress that had been bottled up, internalized within her, was released in one climactic moment as she kissed him passionately all over his dark face.

Initially, Kofi was stunned by what Emelie was doing and stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. This only lasted a second before his natural impulses took over and he kissed her back with equal ferocity and passion, his dark arms wrapping around her slim pale body, pulling her close. The feeling of her body against his was enough to cause his cock to start to harden in his trackpants.

He broke the kiss and pulled his head back to look into her blue eyes that were wild with arousal and lust. Kofi's breathing was low and heavy as he reacted to her pale body pressed against him, Emelie's body reacting to the heady brew of emotions churning inside of her. "Please!" she begged, breathlessly. "Please...fuck me!"

Suddenly the dam was burst as their emotions, their arousal flowed forth, washing away their inhibitions and self-control. In a blur, Kofi's hands quickly found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head, revealing his dark, toned chest to her gaze. Equally nimble, Emelie's hands grabbed her jacket and ripped it from her shoulders, flinging it onto the floor next to the table.

Her gaze was instantly drawn to the smooth, dark chest in front of her, so unlike anything she had seen before in such an intimate setting. Emelie's eyes travelled down towards his waist, taking in the sight of his toned abdominal muscles. She quickly leaned forward, lifting her left foot, her hands gripping her boot. It came off in a flash, being dropped on the floor next to her in one single motion. She repeated the same process with her other boot before straightening up in front of him.