Consequence by Eli Yance Page A

daughter and stared straight into the face of a young, unshaven man with gelled hair. He had an expression on his face that seemed to ask questions.
    “Can I help you?” Howard quizzed, instinctively holding his daughter closer.
    “I work for the Gazette,” the man said, retaining his questionable smile. “Enjoying a day out with your daughter?”
    “I was,” Howard said bluntly.
    The man winked at Lisa who stuck her tongue out, showing her distaste for the journalist. He smiled at her.
    “No need to be like that Mr Price. I’m not really here on work terms,” he paused and pondered his words. “Well, actually I am…but nothing concerning you, I have an interview with a shop owner inside the centre,” he gestured towards the large complex. “Just routine stuff, you know how it is.”
    Howard merely nodded.
    “Seen as I have you here, do you mind me shooting a few pictures?” seemingly from nowhere he pulled out a large digital camera and fitted an expensive zoom lens.
    “For what?” Howard demanded.
    “Nothing really. News is a bit slow that’s all, nothing much happening locally…although I’m sure a few pictures of our most famous local out shopping with his sweet little daughter would go down nicely for our readers. Everyone likes the ‘ local man done good ’ story after all.”
    “But you’ve run that story hundreds of times.”
    “And have we ever failed you Mr Price? Have we ever printed lies, or discriminating stories?”
    “No, surprisingly,” Howard agreed, understanding that although telling the truth wasn’t typically a newspapers’ concern, the local paper had been very kind to him.
    “So come on, do me this favour,” the journalist pleaded. “Either that or our main headline tomorrow will be about a serial shoplifter with a fetish for rabbit food.”
    Howard raised his eyebrows then shrugged and agreed to the journalist’s request.
    30
    Darren Morris kicked at the limp figure of Wayne Pearce -- his foot thudded into his unconscious chest and Pearce gurgled unpleasantly.
    “We’re not going to get much out of him if he keeps passing out,” Roach said, his eyes studying the blood-riddled form by their feet.
    Morris turned to his colleague with a distasteful look then he rammed his foot into Pearce’s rib cage. “I know,” he said in anger. “He’ll soon fucking wake up.”
    He knelt down and grabbed the injured wrist of the scarlet ghost.
    “What did he tell you anyway?” Roach inquired as he watched Morris push Pearce against the wall and hold him there with a strong arm around his waist -- his other hand still grasping the damaged wrist.
    “He mumbled some shit about not knowing anything,” Morris replied. “Then he started babbling about ‘ not knowing how old she was ’ or some shit. Before I even asked about the shipments he was fucking telling me some bollocks about a girl on smack.” Morris paused as he pushed Pearce against the wall and took a firm grip on his wrist, “Then he mumbled ‘ sorry’ a few dozen times. I hit him; he blacked out…”
    “There’s a young girl in there,” Roach ventured with a flick of his head. “Looks like he got her doped up then tried to rape her; he probably thinks you’re her father coming to castrate him.”
    Morris laughed, “If he doesn’t wake the fuck up I might just do that.” He yanked Pearce’s wrist, pushing it up his back. A small popping sound echoed in the porch, followed by a muffled scream blasting from Pearce’s blood-filled mouth.
    “Did you find anyone else in the house?” he smiled as the drug dealer trembled -- waking up to the horrific ordeal.
    “No, just the young girl,” Roach said. “The place is a fucking sty,” he added with disgust. “For some reason there’s a sleeping bag in the bathroom, and it looks like someone’s been using the bedroom as a toilet.”
    Morris forced Pearce’s head into the wall again -- blood poured from his crushed nose and a large cut on his upper