Chapter Fourteen: She Looks Like She Saw A Ghost
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The incessant sound of the doorbell draws me out of the hold of a nightmare filled slumber and with groggy eyes, I turn to the clock on my table only to find the neon lights displaying 5:02a.m. With a loud yawn, I stretch my arms above my head as I internally grumble about having being woken up so early.
My head throbs lightly and I raise my fingers to massage my temple at a futile attempt at relief. I had spent a better half of the night watching my troubled aunt sleep and she kept mumbling to herself and sometimes, she screamed at something that wasn't there.
The pounding of the door resumes and I let out a loud groan as I kick my feet off the bed and slip them into my newly acquired slippers. I head to my curtains which I pull apart to find the darkness outside illuminated by the flashing lights of police sirens and what looks to be two officers standing on the porch.
My blood runs cold and I dash downstairs, almost tripping over my robe. I throw open the front door and force a smile at the officers.
The house is eerily quiet... Quieter than it should be. Normally, aunt Natasha is usually up by this time and shuffling around the house, making breakfast for herself and her son before she readies herself for work. Her lack of activities only tells me she still hasn't snapped out of whatever Sam did to her yesterday.
The female and male officers stare at me and I shiver slightly under their scrutinizing gaze, suddenly all too conscious of my messy hair and the short green robe that hugs my body. They both seem to be in their early thirties or late forties, with the woman looking a little older than the man.
I recognize the tall, broad, bronze-skinned man with jet black curls atop his head to be Tiffany's father, but despite his intense gaze, he has a small smile on his face that makes him look a little more approachable than the stern blonde with piercing grey eyes.
"Good morning, officers." I try to be as formal and confident as I can. I grip the door with more force than required at an attempt to steady my weak legs, but they don't seem to notice as the shorter woman looks like she's trying to search for something behind me.
"We're here for your aunt. Is she in?" The woman I don't recognize questions.
"What did she do?" I ask, my brows furrowed with curiosity.
"We have some questions for her," comes her vague response and I raise a brow as I wait for her to explain more.
Her eyes never leave mine, and they betray no emotion. She pushes her square frames further up her pointed nose, and her lips curl downwards, and I can immediately tell she doesn't like to be around children – or those she considers too immature to talk to.
Officer Romero narrows his eyes at her cold tone and she rolls her eyes, but she takes a step back, allowing him room to address me instead.
"I so did not sign up for babysitting duties," she mutters almost inaudibly under her breath.
Officer Romero takes a step towards me, crouching a little so his extremely bulky frame isn't towering over me. His dark eyes are considerably kinder than his daughter's who is known for bullying me at school, but I don't make this known to him.
"Hey, girl, could you please get her for us?" His voice is low and calm, I have to lean forward a bit to hear what he's saying to me.
Everything about Officer Romero exudes a calm confidence. He doesn't need to talk, glare or act all macho, but there's just something about him that makes him always look like he is on top of everything.
"Can I at least know her charge? She isn't in the best of states right now, and I strongly doubt you can successfully get her to move from the bed. Trust me, it took me hours to achieve that."
The woman groans, her eyes narrowed to show her irritation. Somehow, I don't blame her. She probably hasn't had her morning coffee and may be a little more jovial in the afternoon. Mornings always bring out the worst in people.
Officer Romero looks a little conflicted at the idea of telling me what the charge is. An emotion flashes in his eyes, and it takes me a second to figure out it is pity and extreme sadness. It's almost as though he feels sorry for me.
"Can we at least come in? You'll want to be sitting for this one." Though he's smiling, he doesn't look the least happy.
My heart drums in my chest as scenarios play in my head and gears turn as I try to figure out just what he wants to tell me that is making him look a little troubled. Still, I open the door and step aside, allowing them entrance into the living room.
I watch silently as they both get comfortable on the couch, and I notice the female officer stifle a yawn.
"Would you like if I made some coffee?" I asked as I shut the door behind us, but they both shook their heads.
"We don't plan on staying long," the woman informed me and I nodded and walked tentatively towards them. I swallowed hard and sat on the armchair opposite them, my heart still hammering in my chest.
"Years ago, Mr. Adler and Miss Hendrix – your uncle and your mother – turned up dead to what was concluded to be a robbery gone wrong," Officer Romero starts.
My mouth runs dry and for a second, everything blurs out of focus as I feel anxiety flood my veins. My hands tremble and my I open my mouth to say something, but words fail me and I end up making a squeaky sound.
"Well, as you know, attempts at finding the offender proved futile... Well, that was up until a couple of hours ago."
My heart pounds faster still, and I fear it would jump right out of my ribcage. My breath hitches in anticipation and deep within, I feel a glimmer of hope that almost makes me smile at the thought that my uncle and my mother would finally get the justice they deserve. However, I am forced to relive the dreadful event again, and I feel my eyes well up with tears.
"A man showed up, all frightened, and he confessed to the murder of Mr. Adler and Miss Hendrix. At first, we thought he was threatened to take blame, because the man looked scared out of his wits. However, he provided us with evidence of his transactions with Mrs. Adler.
There are voice recordings of the duo discussing the murder, there's transactions to prove he was paid for the job, and there is also a recording where Mrs. Adler confessed she wanted to murder you in order to gain access to the wealth left behind by your mother. That was before she discovered that your death would result in all the wealth going to charity."
I let out a breath when Officer Romero concluded his tale, and a small smile graced my lips as I thought about Sam. Somehow, I know he is behind everything. He has to be because it is so coincidental that someone just so happened to come up tonight of all times to confess everything.
Soon enough, I am grinning widely while tears stream down my face. It seems as though a weight I didn't even know I was carrying has been lifted off my chest, making it a whole lot easier to breathe.
Justice will be served!
"I know it's a lot to take in, and I know it doesn't bring back your mother, but we can at least close the case now, knowing that justice has served its course."
I nod at the man as I rise to my feet and gesture for them to follow me. They do so, and I lead them up the spiral staircase, down the corridor and into her room.
As expected, she is still wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, mumbling to herself as she stares straight at the cream-coloured wall in front of her. She doesn't even look up when we walk in. I doubt she even heard us, and I sigh. Despite everything, I find myself feeling sorry for her state.
"She looks like she saw a ghost." The woman glares with suspicion at me, then at my aunt.
"Maybe she did, I wouldn't know." I pick my words carefully and they both raise their brows at me.
"What happened to her?" Officer Romero questions.
I contemplate for a moment on what to tell them. Of course, I cannot come right out and say that the Devil himself showed her what I think is a teaser of hell. It sounds all shades of crazy and they would probably lock me up faster than I can get the full story out.
"I haven't the slightest clue. She has been like this since yesterday after she woke from a nightmare," I manage what sounds like a plausible explanation what isn't so far from the truth.
"Perhaps she's mourning the death of her son or perhaps guilty conscience has caught up to her for everything she did. I wouldn't know. I am merely a child."
The woman stares at me with narrowed eyes, not seeming to buy my story, but she eventually shrugs and with the help of Officer Romero, they manage to get her up and into the police car after reading her rights to her, though she's so up her head, she probably didn't even hear them.
I follow after them, and after they have successfully gotten her into the car, I call out to Officer Romero and with a small smile, he walks up to the porch to meet me.
"Am I expected to stay alone in this house now?"
"Well, child services would have placed you in a home, but a certain Mr. Light came up with documents to prove he's your uncle. He said he'll drop by today and stay here with you as your legal guardian. I think today really is your day."
I hum and almost laugh at his ignorance that the person he believes to me my uncle is actually the Devil, but I say nothing regarding that.
"Can I ask a question?"
"Shoot!" Officer Romero encourages.
"I've been getting letters, and gifts from an unknown person, and it's making me feel quite uneasy." I fiddle with my fingers and draw my gaze away from him as I realize how ludicrous I sound.
"Sweetie, most girls would be thrilled at the thought of a secret admirer. What kind of letters are they? Do they have any threatening messages?" He raises a brow at me and I nervously nibble on my lower lip.
"No. They're just poems and – I'm just being silly. I guess it's because I've never had someone admire me before. Thank you for everything, Officer." I fake a smile and he pats my shoulder.
"It's okay, Bells. You're a good kid, and an incredibly smart one too. Whoever this admirer is, they have a good eye." He waves at me before he joins his partner in his car and drives off.
I watch them until the police car and the blinking lights disappear into the distance. His final words play over and over in my head, and while a part of me knows he's right about me being happy to have someone admire me, something deep within me tells me that there's more to it.
Perhaps I have merely read one too many thriller books. Whatever it is, I cannot help but feel that the secret admirer and Ben's murder are connected.