Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and is based primarily in the fictional country of Nordland, a small island nation in the North Sea between the UK, Norway, and Denmark. All characters, events, and places described in this story are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The story series of Officer Emelie Vikander was one that in hindsight probably ended far too soon and on a cliffhanger that allowed readers to make their own decision on what happened to her. Notwithstanding that, I had always wanted to continue her adventures, and this short story will serve as an introduction to a new series that I intend to write about her in the future.
It is not necessary to read the original series 'Officer Emelie Vikander' but I would encourage you to do so for context around the events leading up to this story.
As always, all comments and feedback are welcomed.
HF
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"Emelie, c'mon... we're going to be late for the briefing!" Emelie Vikander looked up from her coffee, startled by her friend's call from across the room. Usually, it was Emelie who was dragging Anna to briefings, the bubbling, curvaceous brunette usually so totally engrossed in a conversation to notice that they were running late. This time, however, it was the brunette's turn to notice that her slim friend had been sitting in the corner with a blank stare on her face, something that had become increasingly commonplace over the past month.
"Right, coming..." the blonde-haired Nordland police officer said quickly as she sprang to her feet and swallowed the last of her now-cold coffee. Yuck, that tastes terrible... she thought to herself as she dashed across the break room to catch up with her friend who was already heading down the corridor towards the briefing room.
As usual, Anna was talking at a million miles an hour. How she ever gets suspects to listen to her is beyond me, Emelie mused. "You've been away with the fairies for weeks now... is everything ok? Is it Sven? Are you drinking enough water? Is everything ok at home? Is it the wedding? I know it's normal to feel overwhelmed, but I'm here for you, you know that, right?" Anna spat out questions faster than a machine gun could spit out bullets as the pair rushed down the hall and made an unfortunately loud entrance to the briefing room.
"Officer Vikander. Officer Larsdotter. So nice of you to join us," Sergeant Nilsen said with a grave expression as he turned to look at them.
"Sorry, Sarge," both women replied as they hurried to their seats. As Emelie sat down and pulled out her notebook and pen, she took a deep breath to calm herself. It wasn't the wedding that had been weighing on her mind. At 26 years of age, it wasn't like she was in a rush to walk down the aisle. To be honest, she and Sven hadn't even set a date. All that had really occurred was that Sven had gotten down on one knee while they had been on a much-needed holiday to Corfu two months earlier.
No, it wasn't that -- it was something else. Something that she couldn't reveal to her fellow police officers sitting around her, not to her best friend, Anna, who was now in a hushed conversation with another female police officer sitting next to her, and least of all to her boyfriend, now fiancé, Sven. It was the deep, dark secrets that she had lived with over the past two years. Since that night. Since Kofi.
She had done her best to push the memories of him from her mind, of what they had and what they had done. She'd moved on with her life, focused on Sven and her, the life they were making together. But then, a month ago, it had all come tumbling back. She'd kept a discrete eye on the court case and then the immigration hearing which seemed to have dragged on. Finally, after what seemed like endless legal wrangling, the decision had been made, and she was once again forced to confront the consequences of her actions, drawing her mind back to the past, the memories coming to the surface all over again, this time with growing intensity.
At the front of the room, Sergeant Nilsen finished speaking with another officer and turned to make his way to the podium. "All right, settle down," he said, his gruff voice carrying across the room.
The low chatter that had filled the Nordland Police Service briefing room died down as the members of the Interrasial Forbindelses Offiser (Interracial Liaison Officer) team settled more comfortably into their seats and Sergeant Nilsen clicked to the first slide of the daily IFO briefing pack. Emelie glanced down at her notebook, pen in hand, ready to jot down team assignments and updates. She was determined to stay focused, yet despite her efforts, her thoughts continued to stray back over the past two years.
Although her eyes were fixed on the screen at the front of the room, she thought about Kofi, the young African migrant she had met while out on patrol. The shooting of the drug dealer in the back alley, the result of his tip-off. The emotion turmoil that had engulfed her after the shooting, culminating in the powerful sexual and emotional release in his kitchen as they had fucked on his kitchen table. After that came the illicit, burgeoning affair, the months of reckless passion. The discovery of his own drug-dealing, his way of obtaining money to support the most vulnerable in his community. Then, the arrest. Her arrest of her own lover. And then, perhaps even worse, the aftermath, the secret consequence from their illicit affair.
Not only was there the fear that Kofi would reveal his relationship with her -- something that would have ended her career in an instant if it had been discovered. The Nordland Police Service would have looked very unfavorably on one of their junior officers having a torrid and illegal relationship with a known drug-dealer.
Despite this, she had skirted close to the edge in the aftermath of his arrest, doing what she could to mitigate the impact on him. Her comments in the arrest report had highlighted her engagement with him, a young leader in his community, someone who had been mistakenly led down the path of dealing drugs. Fortunately, none of her superiors had put two and two together and realized the extent of their actual relationship.
No, this wasn't the worst risk that she had taken. The consequences of her affair being discovered would have been career ending. The consequences of the other, more profound, risk that she had taken with Kofi could have had the possibility of changing her life completely.
She still clearly remembered the weeks of absolute fear and anxiety that she had experienced when she realized that her period was late, the feeling of shock and terror as she sat on her toilet, her trembling hand clutching the small plastic strip bearing two small lines. She had never told Sven that she was pregnant, she had wanted to, desperately wanted to, but had never mustered up the courage to tell him the truth. Ultimately, she had breathed a sigh of relief mixed with feelings of guilt and loss when, a few weeks later, her period arrived, the result of an early-term miscarriage.
She never did know who the father of the baby was -- despite her best efforts to be careful, to track her cycle -- she and Kofi had repeatedly engaged in unprotected sex at the worst time of the month for her, the risk of what they were doing adding to the excitement of their encounters. But she had also slept with Sven without the usual protection of a condom on a few occasions around that time. He too could have been the father.
