Buffy yelped with surprise when she almost fell on her face, grasping blindly for something to steady herself with. When she felt the wall beneath her hand, she relaxed, sliding her hand over the smooth expanse until she found the light switch. Flipping it up, she watched the empty living room illuminate with the glow of two table lamps on the sides of her couch, revealing a nicely decorated interior.
Tossing her briefcase on the coffee table, and her jacket across a nearby chair, she flopped down exhaustedly on the couch, signing loudly. Looking around the room, the blonde pouted when she saw the state of her own apartment. After having spent nearly all day at Spike’s beautifully bedecked house, Buffy was starting to think that her small loft was a little bit too tiny. She had always thought that as a single woman, she was aloud to cramp everything she owned into the smallest apartment she could find in Sunnydale, but now that she’d seen how the other half lived, she was seriously considering an upgrade.
Great, now I’m envying the potential convict. It’s not his fault I have a sucky life!
Buffy stood up languidly, stretching her sore muscles and working out the kinks that had settled in her shoulders. Heading toward the kitchen, she stopped when she heard the soft jingle of a bell.
“Connor?” She called out, smiling happily. “Is that you, boy?”
A small lab puppy the color of gold came rushing of from the bedroom, its short tail wagging joyfully when Buffy knelt down with her arms and hands outstretched in greeting. The puppy’s little paws pitter-pattered across the slick wooden floor, causing the creature to slip and slide ever so often in its haste to get to the young woman waiting with a welcoming smile on her pretty face.
“Hey there, boy. What have you been up to, huh?” Buffy stood and finished her trip to the kitchen, the puppy held firmly in her arms.
Refilling the small water and food bowls, she gave the puppy a kiss and set it on its feet again. It immediately scampered off to eat, and Buffy watched it go, laughing softly.
“I missed you today, Connor.” She talked casually while looking in various cabinets, and the refrigerator, fixing herself something to eat. “I went over to Mr. Pratt’s house to ask him questions for Wes’s case. Boy, is his house nice. You would love it there. All that room to play! Oh, and he has a kid! Can you believe that?! He doesn’t even look old enough to be a dad.”
The pet stopped eating momentarily, looking up and watching her move, as if to listen intently. The blonde didn’t really notice, as she went about microwaving a frozen TV dinner from inside her freezer.
“Anyway, her name is Dawn. Dawnie.” She smiled, remembering the adorable little blue-eyed girl. “You and her would get along great. She’s adorable! Her mom walked out on her and William, when she was just a baby. Isn’t that awful?!”
The puppy barked loudly, and Buffy chuckled, reaching down to pat his head gently. The microwave dinged loudly, and the petite blonde jumped in surprise, standing up quickly. Grabbing her hot TV dinner with a paper towel and a can of soda, she walked slowly back to the living room, Connor following close behind.
Slipping out of her black pumps, she sat the food on the table while she sat back on the couch again, little Connor crawled up beside her, contentedly at her side. Leaning forward the blonde picked at the dinner with her fork, stirring things around absentmindedly. Her hazel eyes landed on the manila folder thrown haphazardly beside her briefcase and she sighed, reading the words written in her handwriting across the front tab.
‘Pratt-Rayne’
She never took her work home with her. It had been a rule of thumb since her first day at Wesley’s firm, when he told her about all the grief it caused when things got personal between clients. Occasionally she would Google things on the net before bed if she felt up to it, but she always left the files at work so she would never be tempted. Tonight she had stopped at the office to do just that, and somehow found herself unable to just leave them there.
Just the way he described the interaction between him and Drusilla the day before the alleged incident made Buffy feel for him even more. He sounded so sincere, and she believed his words.
She believed him.
Dropping the fork with a loud clank, she reached for the file, leaning back to look through it once more. After William had gone over the conversation that he had with Drusilla on Monday afternoon, Buffy had shown him the police report, which stated exactly what the young teenager had told authorities.
When she was examined by the medical team at a local hospital, the victim told several officers that the assailant had indeed used a condom. This was in accordance with the rape examination, which showed the victim had been penetrated not more than two hours before, but no traces of semen were found. There was substantial tearing in the vaginal lining and membrane, and the bruising on the victim’s inner thighs are consistent with this theory.
Buffy frowned, feeling sick to her stomach. The evidence was very incriminating. To the casual observer, it would appear that Ms. Rayne had been violated. But Buffy was sure there was something off, something she was missing in all this.
This was a brutal crime. The bruising, the torn dress, the internal damage, all showed that callous force had been used. Was it feasible that possibly William had tried something, but decided not to go through with it, once he came to his senses? No, she’d pretty much ruled that option out completely. Then what of the injuries sustained on Ms. Rayne? Could it be possible that this teenager did all that to herself. Was she really raped, and had decided to pin the blame on somebody else? What would possess a human being to go to such extremes to ensure somebody else would take the fall for something they didn’t do?
Turning back to the report in her hands, Buffy read on with hesitance.
Buffy stifled a yawn, jarring her out of her thoughts, and causing her to look up at the clock on her nearby wall. Jesus, it’s nearly two-thirty in the freakin’ morning!
She must not have gotten in until after one, she realized. After having to sneak out of William’s house while Dawn was otherwise occupied with her dolls in her room. Buffy had felt guilty that she was just slipping out, but William had assured her that Dawn would forgive her after he explained that Buffy was very busy. She had just smiled and thanked him, promising that she would return tomorrow to finish up with the story.
After that, Buffy had stopped to pick up the police report from Wesley at the house he shared with Fred, staying to make the usual small talk, and then to the office before home.
Now exhaustion was starting to settle in, and the petite blonde figured now was as good a time to call it a night as any, and shut the folder, vowing to not open or think about it for the rest of the night.
Taking her leftovers to the trash and wiping the counters off, she turned off various lights before heading towards the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway of the living room and looked back. The folder lay right where she left it, closed and still in need of solving. Connor hang around her feet, waiting patiently, and she sighed, turning back toward the bedroom, and continuing on her way, the last sentence of the report still ringing in her ears.
Mr. Pratt has no prior criminal record, and does not have a history of violence.
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