Fake Me To Church

Chapter 11.2 - Old Case Files

- STEVEN -

"Whoa," Ahmed whispered. "That was insane."

"Yes," Prudence affirmed. "That it was." She turned to Ahmed and me. "Are you two alright? I hope he didn't frighten you too terribly."

"We're...I'm fine," I said, "but...who are you? And, and how did you know that guy?"

"My name is Prudence Darrow," she answered, "And I've known Detective Stapleman for a long time, though I can't say it's been a pleasant acquaintance. I met him and the other blue-eyed wonder boys in seminary, back before being black and a Christian was in style." She chuckled at herself for a moment, then stared into space:

"Jeremy was friends with your father, or at least he liked to think so. He never was one to assert himself; I suppose that's why he dropped out. There's nothing quite like not knowing who you are while all your 'friends' are growing up around you." She paused, exhaled. "I guess that's what he was hoping would happen to him as well—that he would grow up, feel like he meant something. Too bad all it seems to amount to these days is scrambling for the 'best' police cases and intimidating high-schoolers into fake confessions."

"What a low-life," I mused.

"Th—thank you, by the way," Ahmed stuttered, staring straight at Prudence.

"You're very welcome, darling." She turned to face him and donned a sweet smile. "Honestly, I'm glad I showed up when I did. Any longer, and Jeremy's two-inch power boner might've shot out in the middle of the hallway."

An involuntary chuckle escaped my lips. Okay, that was a good one.

Prudence smiled at me.

"Wait a sec," Ahmed began slowly. "How'd you know where to find us?"

"I'm in town visiting a friend," Prudence replied. "She told me Detective Stapleman was on the case, that he'd found a picture of some girl named Irina and was looking into leads."

What? I felt the air all around me suddenly grow stiff and cold. A picture of Irina? Why would—?

"But, wait," Ahmed continued. "How did you know we'd be here? At this hospital?"

"Well, when I heard about what happened to Dylan, I knew Detective Stapleman wouldn't be far behind. He's always chasing down any lead he can find, even the ones that don't belong to him."

I'm so confused. "Hold on," I cut in. "I'm still not understanding how you knew anything about this case in the first place."

"It was my husband. Deputy Commissioner Darrow. He got paged right after you placed the 9-1-1 call, and I warned him about Stapleman. He didn't want me to get involved, but I just knew Jeremy would be trying to bark up all the wrong trees. He always does."

"So where is he—your husband, I mean? Where is he now?"

Her eyes grew grave as she stared straight at me. "When I left him, he was at your house with a dozen other officers, taping off the crime scene."

"Oh," I mused. "I—I guess I should...thank you, then...for your help."

"Of course," she smiled. "Do you boys need a ride?"

"I, uh, actually biked here," Ahmed offered.

"Well, you needn't ride home on two wheels this late at night, especially with everything that's been happening recently. My car's trunk is big enough to fit your bike. I'll take both of you home, and I hope you'll get some rest." She walked to the nurse's desk to retrieve the purse she'd set there earlier, then strode to the double doors at the end of the hallway and held them open. "After you, gentlemen."