witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

thirteen || a flicker in the dark

He laughed and nodded. "Oh right, shit. It's been awhile since I've talked with someone not in our line of work. Sometimes I forget that normal people exist. Okay, um...so your mom is a maid, right? She doesn't work a second job or anything?"

  My eyes widened and I was about to ask how he knew what my mom did for a living when I mentally slapped myself on the head. 

   Professional tech guy for an organized crime group, right.

"No, she doesn't have a second job, and like me, she is absolute shit with computers," I answered.

"Okay, so that answers that," he started, pausing to scratch his head and think.

"What about your dad?" he asked.

My heart dropped a little at his words, and I focused my attention to my lap, mindlessly tracing my finger across my knees.

"My dad is dead," I replied, my voice barely more audible than a whisper.

I heard Abel mumble an embarrassed "shit" under his breath, and he reached his hand up to run it through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Tate," he spoke, his voice quiet like mine.

"It's okay, it happened a long time ago. I was just a baby, I don't really remember anything about him," I replied.

"Do you have any siblings or extended family that you're close with?" 

I shook my head. "I'm an only child. My mom never got remarried after my dad died. My dad has a brother, although I'm not very close with him. I've only met him about two or three times. He lives in Scotland now, I think."

 He nodded in reply, pausing for a bit before he spoke again.

"I know this is really hard to talk about, but do you think you could tell me more about your dad? Anything could help, let's start with his name," he asked, looking up at me to check and see if this was okay.

  I took a deep breath before nodding. "His name was Christopher."

Abel began typing on his computer, and I looked over at his screen to see that he was making some sort of list.

"Okay, what did he do for work?" he asked.

"My mom told me that he was a writer. He really liked poetry. He would go to local universities sometimes and teach classes on poetry."

Abel typed down my words as I spoke.

"How um...how did he die?" He asked softly.

I shuddered as I prepared myself to answer.

"He was murdered."

Abel let out an audible gasp. I looked up and saw the pain in his eyes.

"By who? Why?" He asked.

"I don't know. My mother said the police never found the killer. It ended up being a cold case. No one knows who killed him or why they did it. From what my mother has told me about him, he was one of the nicest people in the world. Everybody loved him. I can't think of any reason why someone would want him dead," I replied, feeling a small lump in my throat. 

"We can stop now if you want," Abel offered.

I shook my head. "No. I'm fine. Let's keep going."

"Were your dad and your uncle close?"

"Not super close. They didn't hate each other or anything like that. They were just always so independent and didn't talk much. I remember my uncle being a nice man from the few times I've met him though."