Page 70 of The Rowdy Ones
Later? Why is she making me sit with blood caked to my skin? They already swiped my flesh and bagged any evidence they found. I just want to clean up and get this dead man’s blood off me.
“Destiny Jamison. I’m visiting my uncle.”
“Right. But you don’t have any identification or an address or anything?”
“No,” I mutter. “Can I talk to my uncle’s brother? Will Knox?”
The woman grunts at my questions. “You know the chief?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “He’s family.”
Not exactly, but close.
The detective leaves the room and is gone for an eternity. I’m no longer wearing the clothes I put on this morning. The police confiscated those for evidence. I’m wearing a stiff, paper-thin top and bottom set that smells like strong clothing detergent.
I wish I had my phone, but they took that too.
They even took my cane.
And where is Weston? We were separated straight away once the cops arrived and were brought in for questioning. I’m feeling less like someone who stumbled upon a dead body and more like the one guilty of killing him.
Thankfully, Weston calmed my fears about it being Rowdy.
Still, someone died horribly, and the cops are treating me like a suspect.
Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t try to swipe them away. My hands are sticky and gross feeling. That man’s blood is still on me. I want to wash it away.
I need Rowdy.
He would know what to do in this situation. At the very least, he would demand they let me wash my hands. A sob catches in my throat. I don’t like being here all alone.
A few minutes later, the detective enters the room again. I stiffen, waiting to be grilled with more questions like earlier. But, to my surprise, she sets something down in front of me on the table.
“I grabbed you a bottle of water, hon. I’m trying to locate your cane now and then I’ll show you to the restroom where you can clean up.”
Why the sudden change of demeanor toward me?
“My phone?” I choke out. “I want to call my brother.”
“I’ll get that too,” she assures me. “But don’t worry. Your family has been notified you’re here and are on their way. Chief Knox isn’t on site, but he asked me to see to it that you’re comfortable until they arrive.”
I relax, relieved to finally be treated like a human and not a criminal. “And Weston?”
“We’re still questioning Mr. Simmons,” she says tersely. “Sit tight while I locate your things.”
After what feels like an eternity later, and when my water bottle is completely empty, the detective returns with my cane and phone. I shove the phone into my pocket, eager to get washed up first before calling my brother. She guides me out of the cold, sterile room and into a hallway that’s bustling with activity. I’m shown to the restroom, and thankfully, she stays outside the door. I fumble around until I locate the sink. Then I turn it on and begin profusely scrubbing at my hands.
I’m not sure how long I stand there with my hands under the scalding hot water, but eventually, the woman comes inside and turns the water off.
“Paper towels are over here,” she says gently. “I’m going to get you something from the vending machine. You have a preference on candy?”
Since I don’t have any desire to eat anything at the moment, I shrug off her question. I shakily make my way over to where she said the paper towels were and dry my now throbbing hands. I’m overwhelmed and exhausted and distraught over finding a dead body. I just want to leave this place.
“Come on,” the woman says. “This way to the break room.” She continues to chatter about dumb things like the weather and the upcoming basketball season, which I’m pretty sure she’s doing for my benefit of knowing where to go while following by the sound of her voice.
With my cane sweeping the area in front of me, I trail after her. The break room smells like soggy onions and stale coffee. I slow to a stop and listen as she mashes buttons on what must be the vending machine. Then she hands me a wrapped snack.
It feels like a Snickers bar maybe. I’ve had those a lot. Dad is a fan and Uncle Knox always makes sure to bring them to him when he visits.
