How to Date a Nerd

Chapter 6 - Fasten Your Seatbelts

Chapter 6 – Fasten Your Seatbelts

 

I slammed a foot on the brake and took a swerve on the narrow parking space in Main Street, my eyes trailing at the Hopkinton Police Department building. It looked more a big house made of bricks, with white windows and a pointy roof. Two flags stood at the very front of it—a national flag and another white one that I didn’t care much about. A gray patrol truck waited outside. There was a name tagged on the parking slot which I ignored. I wasn’t planning on leaving Nathan to his own devices for more than twenty minutes. Hopefully, no one would issue me a ticket.

I jogged into the building, heading straight to the investigation department. Officer Perkin’s table was at the very end of the room, which was pretty much stuffed with a dozen white tables and huge piles of paperwork. A typewriter dinged from a corner.

All that came to mind was: Whoa, artefact. Jurassic Era.

Officer Perkin’s table was as messy as all the other tables lining the whole square of the workplace, except that it had more trinkets than paperwork. Plus, it looked too small for him, as if a professional wrestler just got kicked out of a fixed match and landed straight on a toddler’s workbench. The tall buff blond middle-aged officer scraped his receding hairline before glancing up at me.

“Anything new?” I asked before he could even put down his pen.

“Not really,” he said gesturing for me to settle down on one of the two padded foldable chairs in front of his table.

But I kept standing. I was too edgy to sit.

When he finally realized that I didn’t come for chitchat, he just shrugged and continued. “But I just found one company that actually rents a black series two thousand and eight Mercedes Benz CLK63 AMG. Just as you described.” He sounded sceptical. “I’ll be checkin’ on it first thing tomorrow.”

I nodded and shifted uneasily on my feet.

“I think I know someone who has a possible motive to hurt Sarah. Her name’s Megan Coltrane,” I said hurriedly glancing at my blue celestial wrist watch.

Four forty P.M. Nathan could’ve burned the whole hospital by now.

He nodded, flipping folders from his drawer as he did. “This Megan Coltrane, can you tell me why you think she’d do this to Sarah Littman?”

Clearing my throat, I started to think up some story but couldn’t so I said, “She’s kind of my stalker… She found out about Sarah and threatened to hurt her.”

The officer rubbed his stubbly chin like saying “You have a stalker?” before scribbling on a piece of paper. “Can you give me more details?”

I didn’t argue. What was the point of pointing out that someone wearing thick glasses and fake braces at the age of eighteen could actually have a stalker?

“Sure. I think she’s about twenty, tall—about five-ten—gangly, red curly hair, fair complexion, brown eyes…” I paused when I saw the officer snigger. “Something wrong?” I asked, very close to snapping but I tried to calm down.

“Nothing. Just wanted to ask. Is this Megan Coltrane some sort of a model? Sounds to me like one.” The officer kept snorting, not even trying to keep a straight face while he tried to get up from his seat, knocking his knees against the table.

“I think she did a little modelling but—“ I clenched my teeth, pressing my lips into a thin line. Perkin’s wasn’t taking me seriously. Sure. Mock the nerd.