Page 65 of Aftermath
“Like what?” I said, perking up.
I’d been sitting in the living room armchair for an hour, making notes in the margins of all the papers I had. She had taken to spreading things out on the floor. Birdie and Alonzo kept passing by her for occasional pets.
I swore I caught a glare from Alonzo on one of his laps.
“For example, this one says a witness saw her at the pub at 9:00 PM, but the final report and statement claim she was nowhere near there. Instead, it claims she must have been out for a run or walk,“ Len said, crinkling her nose.
I lean forward in the chair, taking in what she said. Someone messed with the report.
“This one says it was her first time visiting the bar, but I happen to know from my research, she was a regular there.”
Someone was definitely messing with the reports. I started shifting through mine faster, trying to find similar mistakes. Although I didn’t see as many glaring errors, the reports were certainly riddled with tiny ones, careless work.
“I don’t get it,” Len said. “Why would anyone falsify reports? How does that help them if it’s obvious an officer did it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But it’s somewhere to start.”
“I don’t think the sheriff will answer our questions so easily now,” Len said.
“We aren’t going to ask him,” I said, rubbing at my chin. “We’ll find another way. We don’t have enough to say exactly who touched these.”
She continued on the floor, barely making a sound. If not for me periodically glancing up to check on her, I wouldn’t even know she was there. Every time her hand moved to her necklace, I caught the movement. Seeing her instinctively touch it hurt no less each time. She hadn’t taken it off since the dinner. A lump formed in my throat, knowing what I had to ask her.
It wasn’t fair, but we were running out of leads. She’d already been through so much pain, and I knew this would only drag up more.
I wouldn’t ask if you weren’t my only option.
I kept reminding myself over and over, working up the courage. It had been days since her brother‘s dinner, and I had to stop treating her like she was a ticking time bomb, give her more credit than that.
“Why are you giving me that look?” she asked.
“What?” I answered, taken aback.
She raised a brow and bit the inside of her cheek. “The one where you watch me like one of your puzzles to solve. It’s hard to work when I feel you watching my every move.”
Fair point.
“I think I know where to start.”
Something lit up in her eyes for the first time in days. It was the first sign of emotion I’d seen, beyond just complete sadness consuming her.Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.
“I think it’s time I interview you,” I suggested.
I saw the way her eyes widened, and she started to pull her limbs in, closing herself off from me without even realizing.The signs were all there.
“I already told you, I don’t remember,” she said softly.
I could see I was losing her. She was shrinking into herself. I slid out of the armchair onto the floor, only a foot from her, on her level.
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was our only lead to start with,” I said.
“But we have this,” she said, motioning to the papers around her.
“We need more,” I sighed. “The first lesson I teach trainees is that you can’t look at things so narrow minded. You have to look at all the facts.”
“I can’t-” she started.
“I promise, I will not let anything hurt you,” I said. “We need this.”
