Death of a Nightingale

CHAPTER 40: WALLS CLOSING IN - NESS

I feel a little more steady on my legs as the warmth finally returns to my body. A sliver of daylight creeps through the kitchen window from behind me and I think that renders us fairly safe from any nighttime beasts and monsters. The doorbell chimes a second time and I hear a muffled, low voice out front. I sway forward with slow determination. The wall is my friend.

Both my mother and Luke rush down the stairs and hover behind me.

"Don't open it." Luke huffs with no small amount of panic in his voice. But it's too late. I've already pushed down the handle and the hinges swing inwards, revealing my boss, Matt with a face I cannot read. Shame maybe? I angle my head to make him look at me, but his eyes avoid mine. He's accompanied by two police officers and now I'm officially freaked out. All three are somber. One of the officers even takes off his hat and wipes his shoes. My eyes dart from one to the next as my heart quickens with concern. What is this?

"You look like you still haven't slept." Matt notes and I blink back a retort. Sorry, I'm currently not my cheery, fresh-faced self, but I suppose he's right. I've kinda been busy the past two nights and pretty much ignored the need to sleep almost entirely. Somehow I don't feel the fatigue.

"I haven't." I say simply and let him say whatever he needs to. Matt looks to Luke and Beth, both on edge as well. Then back to me. This waiting for the other shoe-to-drop-thing is making me very anxious and I'm about to burst.

"What is this?" I ask not directed at any of them in particular. Are they here to collect me? Place me on a temporary 5150 mental hold and evaluate me? I wouldn't entirely blame any of them. Maybe it's an intervention? But I'm not a drug user. I'm just very confused. One of the officers hands me a neatly folded, velvet letter envelope. The paper is soft and beautiful. Delicate even. On the outside, written in beautiful script is 'Ness, Lifeline'.

"It's just protocol, Ma'am." Did he just call me Ma'am? Oh boy, I must look absolutely ghastly. I pin my attention on Matt, asking with every inch of my being.

"Matt? Tell me." I order him. I'm tired of this soft waiting period. He nods and a heavy sigh escapes him. This is hard for him, and I realize that whatever is about to come out of his mouth, I won't like it. I'm right.

"There is no good way to say this." He begins and he tries to take my hand. I let him. He's always been there for me. His kindness and guidance; a shining light in our strange profession.

"Emma, your recurring caller, finally reported her father to the police for battery two days ago. After the last time you two spoke.  They answered the call promptly and were on their way to her house immediately. Did everything by the book." He pauses and I already know how this story ends. I retract my hand, starting to shake my head, willing the final words to be different, but he continues on.

"When they got to the house, Emma had taken her own life." The words hang in the air, heavy and deafening. No, no, no, no. I gulp in air, almost hyperventilating. My mom steps closer to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder that I can barely feel. No, not Emma. Not that beautiful, innocent, vibrant soul. She was supposed to get through this. I was supposed to pull her up. I was her light at the end of the tunnel. But I wasn't there, I realize in horror and thick tears build up so quickly that I don't even have a chance to cover them up. I don't care to.

"Did she call in before she did it?" I ask, unsure if I really want to know. Matt hesitates, also uncertain if he should tell me, whether it would even help. He wipes his eyes as well. This is hitting him just as hard.

"She just left you this letter." I look at the soft paper in my shaking hand. It's yellow. A pretty, light shade that reminds me of Easter. It suits her. Suited her.