October 26th…
The week Thayer predicted – hoped – this would take is mere days away and the police are no closer to finding the killer. I feel bad thinking that, knowing they’re doing everything they can, but it’s the truth nonetheless.
Jones has eased up some, actually joking and looking less like the poster child for boy scout. Not saying there’s anything wrong with being one, simply that it’s nice to see him relax around me.
As for Carlton? She’s…intense. She mumbles to herself a lot, tosses considering glances my way when her eyes aren’t focused on her laptop. I’d initially chalked it up to dedication, but when I’d peeked at the screen as I’d walked by, or tried to, she’d promptly slammed it closed and warned me to mind my business.
In my opinion, this case is exactly that as it involves me, but I pretended to accept the chastisement and moved on. Though not as she’d wished for, I’m sure. Instead of giving her a wide berth, I began to ask her questions, try to get to know her.
Certain personality types can’t resist talking about themselves. She took the bait and I came to realize that she lives and breathes the job. Not necessarily a bad thing when that entails protecting me and others in dangerous situations. Unless it rules your every action and thought.
If it interferes in what you took an oath to uphold.
Perhaps I’m projecting, basing that on her simply rubbing me wrong. But the one thing my parents taught me, a lesson I wish hadn’t been necessary to learn, was to look past what you’re told.
Context. Body language. Tone. Expression.
Hers all say that I’m in her way.
I know how to interpret that because, after the mask had been ripped off, I saw it on my father and mother.
While I was living with them and once I’d gotten my own place, having run into them separately once in public. I’d dreaded having to converse with them, to pretend, but I needn’t have worried.
They’d walked right past me, both with their current partner despite still being married to each other, like we’d never met.
Like I don’t share their blood.
Honestly, instead of being insulted, I was elated.
Any ties I thought remained between us were officially severed.
Any respect I felt they deserved for their roles in my life obliterated.
I was finally free and it was awesome.
That’s when it clicks. Carlton – I cannot call her or Jones by their first names – reminds me of them.
Whenever it’s time for the change, my stomach tightens at the coming hours that will be spent in her presence. Thankfully, I’m asleep for most of them as Thayer and Willis have been taking the day and Jones and Carlton the night.
Lately, Thayer and Willis stay here, camping out in one of the guest rooms rather than driving home and back early the next morning. Making the trek each evening means less time resting which kind of defeats the purpose.
Today, though, when the second string, err shift, arrives, it’s just Carlton and she is smiling.
It’s a bit creepy, yet I can only assume that’s what she’s going for.
If not, she should get that checked out.
Pushing that aside, she seems almost happy.
Which in and of itself is also creepy.
“Captain wants you at the station right away,” she informs them, foregoing any greetings. Pleasant or otherwise. Oh wait, that was otherwise. Thayer withdraws his phone, but she stops him. “He may not be able to answer. Things are happening and he’s busy.”
“Like what?” Willis wants to know.
She stares at me. I just cross my arms, indicating that I’m not going anywhere.
“There have been more.” She doesn’t expound on that statement, nor does she need to. She means murders. “Some of the Lillians—” seriously, that’s how they’re referring to us? “—received emails from “one of them,” indicating that they should get together. Safety in numbers and all that.”