Forever and a Half || Michael Jackson

Chapter Thirty-Six - Evidence

Chapter thirty-six – Evidence

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-Three days later-

The sound of the phone is what wakes me up – it wakes Michael, too. He turns over on the bed, so that he faces me. It's quite a cute sight; his curls are tangled and messy, and they're here, there and everywhere; he has a couple of dark marks on his cheek from where he's been lying; and his lashes are coated with a damp substance which just makes him look adorable.

"Michael, it's the phone," I groan softly from tiredness. "Who's getting it?"

"I'm not. Forget Marco and his pathetic self. Not answering the phone again," he hisses, his voice clearly indicating he's fatigued.

"Then I'll get it," I answer, stretching my aching arm and leg muscles, before slowly crawling out of bed. Clumsily trudging down the stairs, I arrive at the phone, picking it up with my fingers and placing it to my ear. "Hello?"

Half-expecting Marco to be the person to talk, I prepare myself to hang the phone up. However, when someone completely different speaks, I almost have a mini heart attack.

"Miss Espinosa, this is the Gary Police Department."

My eyes widen, despite how sleepy they feel. "O-Oh, okay. Would you like me to get Mr Jackson for you?"

"If you could, that would be great."

"Please hold." Removing the phone from my ear, I cover the mouth piece, before calling upstairs. "Michael, it's for you!"

"If it's Marco, tell him to go away. Hang up!" he calls back, his tone sounding frustrated.

"It's not Marco!" I reply. "It's the police!"

"Coming," he says, without raising his voice. Moments later, he arrives at the top of the stairs, before walking down almost as clumsily as I did. "I could've sworn they said the case was closed."

"I'm not sure. They just said they wanted to speak to you," I tell him, a high level of uncertainty in my tone.

"Right." He takes the phone gently from my grasp, holding it to his ear. "Hello?" Whilst the police officer speaks, he stands listening, leaning his back against the staircase. "Oh, really? Uh ... would you like us to come down? Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Okay. Thanks. Yeah ... okay. Bye."

"What is it?" I question, watching him place the phone down. "Is it important?"

He furrows his brows, pulling an unsure face. "Well ... they said they had something to show me concerning the case. They said that it was closed, but they've found something that'll open it again."

"Oh God," I breathe. "Do we have to go down to the station?"

He nods. "Yeah. That's okay, isn't it? Because I can go on my own, if you like."

"Of course not!" I answer in a heartbeat. "Don't ever think it's not okay; this is your family, after all. I'm coming with you."

"Okay ... thanks. But we've got to go as soon as possible, so I'm going to get ready now," he informs me. He then makes his way back upstairs, heading into the bathroom.

"Gosh," I murmur to myself, walking back up to our bedroom to get dressed.

*  *  *

"Good morning, Mr Jackson; Miss Espinosa," the officer greets us, leading us into one of the rooms in the station. "I understand you've been called in today?"

"Yes," Michael answers softly. It's fairly obvious that he's nervous right now. "So ... what is it you wanted to show us?"