Page 14 of The Dark Obsession

“I feel sick to my stomach thinking of you and him together. I don’t like it, but for you, I’ll take it.” He narrows his gaze at me and walks to the coffeepot to pour a cup. He slides it across the table to me. He doesn’t sit but heads to the kitchen door. “But one sign that something is not right, I’m there. Rosalie, I’m being serious.”

“I’m just having some fun. Don’t worry.”

He glares at me and leaves the kitchen.

I sit in silence, my fingers wrapped around the hot cup. I contemplate the extreme hate between Ben and Dale. Surely this can’t be because Benjamin is overprotective. I listen to the sweet songbirds singing a beautiful, joyful tune. I watch out the window; the fluffy white clouds pass across the red-tinged sky, the blustery wind swirling as the old, large oak tree’s branches bend and groan. I pull my gaze from the window and onto the clock that hangs on the back wall—6:35. I jump to my feet and dash out the front door, grabbing my bag as I go.

The raging wind, matching my emotions, whip my face. The roaring fills the empty sleeping street as I jog to my car, my heart thumping hard enough that I feel it in my ears. My first day on trial, my first day working in criminology.

???

I arrive at the police station with ten minutes to spare. I use this time to fiddle with my hair whilst I try to calm myself: deep breathing, slow breathing, classical music, and closing my eyes. At last, my heart flutters at a near-normal rate, though it still hammers against my ribs.

A beautiful black Mercedes parked neatly next to a police car is the first thing I see as I slide from my car. Green vines climb the walls of the large and outdated two-story police station. An unfashionably bright red door with a call box sits to the right side. I stand still to scan the building for Mr Alcazar. I notice a window adorned with vertical, thick, and rusty steel bars. I wonder what it is used for. Picturing a room full of guns and weaponry, I grin.

“Miss Lockwood, over here,” a soft voice calls out from inside the bright red wooden door.

I do a pirouette on the spot and wobble clumsily. “Mr Alcazar.” I nod towards him in acknowledgement, hoping he hasn’t seen my blunder.

A shining toothy grin spreads across his face. His thick curls bounce as he strides towards me. His glasses sit neatly on his head. He proffers his hand, then grasps mine.

The handshake sends tingles up my arm. I shake it off as he points towards the outdated red door. I tremble with anticipation for my first day at work. I can’t help but smile as we enter the building. My smile dissolves as quickly as it came, changing into a dropped jaw, when I see two long rows of continual, plain, and thick metal bars. My heart seems to fall into my belly as it grumbles.

“We are working with a family today. Don’t worry, I’m just showing you around. This is a holding unit for people awaiting their trial. I need confidence from you today. This family have been through a lot. We’re working very closely with the police on this, helping in any way possible. I want this solved quickly.”

“Okay, Mr Alcazar. Sorry,” I whisper as we pass the cells, their occupants not even acknowledging us.

A deep shout breaks the silence, making me scamper behind Mr Alcazar.

“I didn’t do it,” the shout echoes through the dark hallway.

“Shut it, Marcus,” Mr Alcazar grumbles as we pass his cell. “Tell it to the judge.”

We exit the jail cells and traverse a bright white hallway without him uttering a word. With every step, I can’t help but feel anger emitting from him. He stalks up another hallway and we reach the end, where it becomes a dull white. An uncomfortable defining silence accompanies us as we pass through a pair of off-white doors. An empty white desk sits in the middle of the room, with some uncomfortable-looking overused chairs on either side. Mr Alcazar walks so quickly around me that I feel the breeze on my face and smell his unusual and pleasant scent.

He pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit. “Before we go in, we need to chat,” he states in an unhappy tone. His eyes narrow as he slides on his glasses, magnifying his big green eyes. He sits opposite, and I notice they’re a beautiful shade of emerald.

“Yes, Mr Alca—”

“First, please call me Rafael. Here, we are equals. Next is toughen the hell up. I can’t have you acting all shy and scared, especially with clients like we have today.” He places his glasses onto the table and entwines his hands together.

I nod nervously, trying hard not to look at my feet. I can’t tell whether I fear him or fear my first day?

“Now a quick brief. This family lost their twenty-two-year-old daughter, Eliza Thomas, last year. She was found tied up with rope and murdered. Her stomach was ripped open, her small intestine and kidneys missing. Definite foul play, of course, but she had also been sexually assaulted.” He spoke with rhythm, barely stopping to breathe.

I listen intently, wanting to get this right the first time.

“Backstory: she had told her parents about a man.” He takes a deep breath, and his lips curve downward. “She went on a date with him once and said he was stalking her. Her parents thought she was overreacting. She had also contacted the police two weeks before her death, and the day she died, she was under police protection. She disappeared from her bedroom at two a.m. without trace. We found her three days later in an abandoned house. But nothing was left—no DNA, nothing leading us to the murderer.”

My jaw is tight as he finishes his speech, my heart palpitations skyrocketing.

“Sir, this is my first case. I don’t think I’m the best to be—”

“Don’t be silly. Just get up, use your head, take notes, and for god’s sake, don’t say anything stupid.” He forces a grin, then pats my shoulder as he crosses me towards the door.

I rise swiftly, still wrapping my head around the fact that he’s told me not to say anything stupid, and follow to where Rafael is holding the door open for me. I pull my skirt lower down my knees and lead the way, letting my hair fall in front of my face as I pass him.

“By the way, good job. You look very professional, except for the bite on your neck,” he says, his voice low and sweet.

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