Things that Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 24: A+ For Flunking

Again she scribbled in her notebook.

Something told me this wasn’t going well. I guess that was good?

“And what provoked you to shoot a live round at your soul mate?”

There was that haughty voice again. Because shooting blanks doesn’t kill anything. Tone it down Juniper, you can do this. Don’t fall for the haughty voice.

“I was frightened.”

“Frightened by your soul mate?” she asked, the scoff was implied.

“Frightened by a werewolf.”

She looked at me then with a curious expression but it was quickly covered back up with her blank clerical face.

“Where did you get the firearm?” she asked.

“It was my father’s.” I answered.

“And where did he get the firearm?” she asked.

“Don’t know.” I answered.

“How long ago did he acquire the weapon?” She asked.

“Six or seven years ago.”

“So around the time that werewolves revealed themselves?” the monster woman asked a look on her face that assured me that I would get more notes in the book if I confirmed her suspicions.

I shrugged and then had to keep a grim smile off of my face as I heard her click her pen and scrawl some more into her notebook.

“What does your father do? Where is he assigned to work?” she asked.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach and my eyes narrowed into slits. She knew everything about my work history but didn’t even know that my father was deceased?

The bitterness that had already hardened my heart intensified.

“He’s dead. So I guess you can say that he was assigned coffin duty at the cemetery on fifth and main.”

Her face was priceless.

“When did he die?” she asked.  

I looked at the clerical werewolf woman with a hard expression. It almost made me physically sick to even think about discussing my father with one of these monsters.

I wasn’t going to do it.

“That is a matter of public record. I’m sure you have access to that information already.” I informed her. Her shock turned into annoyance.

“Just tell me.” she instructed.

“I don’t see how revisiting the night that made me an orphan has anything to do with this hearing other than satisfying your need to make me uncomfortable. If you want to know look it up.”

She looked at me blankly for a moment and then clicked her pen to start writing again.

“The bullets that were in the gun were coated with silver jackets, did you know this?” she asked, apparently dropping the father subject. 

“Yes.”

Her eyes rose from her paper and she looked at me with a hard expression.

“How were you aware of this?” she asked.

“Because I loaded the gun.”

“Where did you get the ammunition?”

“My father bought the bullets when he was still alive.” I answered.