"Is it true, love?" Nurse Jackson's eyes glitter with curiosity. "Were you the one who found that poor girl's dead body?"
"Yep." I nod lazily as I mentally sigh. Ever since that incident, the exact same question seems to follow me everywhere I go. On my peripheral vision, I can see the plump nurse opening her mouth again, eager to shoot me another question. From the mix of curiosity and fear in her eyes, I know exactly what she's going to ask next.
"And no." I bring one finger forward to prevent her from asking the exact same question I've heard numerous times. "Ghosts weren't the one who killed her. She really was shot to death, just like the newspapers said."
My statement brings out disappointment in her eyes. "Ghosts don't kill people, Nurse Jackson. People kill people." My mouth makes a straight line as I lean back in the chair.
She lets out a long sigh as her face turns sad. "But who would want to kill such a sweet girl?"
I shrug. Suddenly, she gasps loudly. Her huge eyes widen as she drags a hand to cover her mouth. "What if there's a serial killer targeting young women in this town? That means Lorraine is in danger—"
"Breathe, Mac. Breathe," I straighten myself and slightly raise both hands towards her while trying to calm her down. I start inhaling and exhaling loudly, trying to get her to mimic my action. "Take a deep breath, nothing bad's going to happen to Lorraine."
Lorraine is Nurse Jackson's 14-year-old daughter. Ever since her husband died, Nurse Jackson has been raising her daughter by herself, hence the overprotectiveness and the paranoia.
"Whoo!" She wipes the sweat from her forehead.
I chuckle at the lady's action. All of a sudden, a hunch—or rather a crazy thought—comes across my mind.
"Did you know her? The girl?" I ask curiously.
Her death might be none of my concern, but because of John's reaction the other night, I have a feeling she might be closely related to my own investigation. So maybe, just maybe, if I know more about her, I'll know more about John.
"Of course I do, love! She lives just across the street!" she replies with her usual vigor.
Well played, Alexis. Well played.
As a winning smile finds its way onto my face, I drag my chair closer to the desk and put on my serious face. "See, I've known her ever since the St. Johns first moved here. And that was..." She drags one finger to her chin and looks up. "About ten years ago, I believe." She returns her gaze towards me.
"What was she like?" I ask, propping my head on my hands.
"She's—I mean was—a sweet and kind girl, always helped me with my groceries whenever she was around. Smart girl, too. One time, she helped Lorraine with one of her science projects. She got an A!" She smiles proudly.
I chuckle. "What about her family? Or her friends? Has anything out-of-ordinary ever happened to them? Anything at all?" I continue to ask, not sure what kind of answer to expect.
"Well, she was an only child. Bruce, her father is the principal at Casa Nova High and Lucy, her mother, is a soccer mom. God, I can't imagine what they're going through! God knows what I'd do if anything ever happens to Lorraine." She clasps her lips together and shrugs. "From what I can tell, her family was perfect."
"Nothing is ever perfect, Mac. There's bound to be a skeleton in everyone's closets." I straighten my lips and shrug.
"But I'm telling you, not once have I ever heard them fi..."
Suddenly, her expression turns into horror. It looks like she has a revelation of some sort.
Question her, Alexis. Question her!
No need to tell me twice, Evil Me.
"What is it?"
"Well..." She tilts her head a little and her forehead puckers, forming tiny lines of wrinkles. "Come to think of it, there was this one time."
In my excitement, I put both hands on the table and sit straight.
"A couple of weeks ago, I just finished my shift and picked up Lorraine in her grandma's house. It was odd because it was really late at night and the St. Johns don't usually have many visitors. So, when I got home, we saw this young man—a few years older than you are." She eyes me for a moment.
Could it be...?
"By any chance, was he about six foot one, had a perfectly chiseled jaw, a nose too-good-to-be-true, perfectly shaped lips, and oh-so-dreamy green eyes?"
Good God, Alexis! You've been staring at his face too much!
When I return my gaze to the short nurse, I find her slightly drawing her head backward with her jaw dropped. I blush uncontrollably. I purse my lips together and grit my teeth, forming an awkward smile.
"Well, love, I couldn't tell for sure, but he was a lot taller than Bruce. He was very good looking too. We were sure he was a model or something. I remember Lorraine having the same reaction as you do." She giggles, causing my face to feel even hotter.
"Oh!" She suddenly slams her hands to the table, making a loud sound that causes me to jolt and the people around us to look our way.
"Sorry," she says with a guilty smile. "Anyway, I remember Lorraine asked Jill about him the next day. Ya know, her being mesmerized and all." She rolls her eyes.
"What did she say?" I knit my brows.
She leans forward, putting a hand over on one side of her mouth, and whispers, "She said he was her brother."
"What?" I squeal, my eyes widen at the words. "But I thought you said she was an only child?"
She nods. "I know, right? My girl asked the same question too! But Jill wouldn't say another word about him after that, saying she shouldn't even talk about him. I'm telling you, there must've been a scandal on that family. Maybe, he was an illegitimate child and he envied her!" she says, sounding overly convinced. "That's probably why he killed her!"
I nod with hesitation and give an awkward smile. To think that a minute ago she said that family was perfect.
"Uhm... Yeah. So, do you remember what they were talking about?" I ask.
"Well, love, if you must know, even from inside my house I could hear that good looking guy having a really heated argument with Bruce. Something about," she knits her brows, "him being a bad influence on her, I think."
"Then, the guy stormed off angry. Like real angry." She nods heavily, slightly raising her pursed lips.
"Come to think of it, I think I heard that guy threaten to kill Bruce too! What if he really was the one who killed Jill? T-t-then... Me and Lorraine are the sole witnesses?" The revelation sends her into a panic attack. In a matter of seconds, I can hear her heavy breathing from miles away.
I chuckle. "Calm down, Mac. If he is, in fact, the killer, don't you think he would've gone after Mr. St. John first?"
"Oh... You have a point there..." she mumbles, the panic washes away from her eyes.
She glances at the clock perched on the wall. "Oh well, I better go back to the ER, or else that redhead would eat all my doughnuts like that last time. Who would've suspected a skinny girl like her to have such a huge appetite?" she continues, her head bobbing back and forth.
I giggle at her words. Seems like I'm not the only one who hates Miss-I'm-So-Perfect. "See ya!" She waves at me and I mirror her action.
As she walks away, a couple of women in their mid-thirties walks past the nurses' station. Fear flickers in their eyes as they take a quick glance at me. Not long afterward, they start covering their mouth as they whisper to each other.
'Haven't you heard? That girl is the one who found the dead girl's body. I bet she's the killer.'
Those are probably the words they are chattering about. While some—like Nurse Jackson—thought I was just pure unlucky, others beg to differ. I can't blame them, really. Statistically, most people who found a murdered person in an uninhabited woods usually turn out to be the killer. Or so I heard.
I sigh. As if living with this ability isn't bad enough.
Trying to distract myself from the unwanted attention, I lean closer to the nurses' desk and starts choosing a random patient file from the stack of papers in front of me. As my eyes scan for the patients' names, one name grabs my full-on attention.
John Doe.
I drag my chair closer to the desk while taking out John's file from the stack of papers. It's been five days since I last saw him. Five days since he left me alone in the woods without any clue what I said, or did, wrong.
Five. Freaking. Days.
I let out a long sigh. Just thinking about his expression that night drives me crazy. He said he didn't remember anything, not even his name. But then why did he almost cry when he saw the girl's dead body? Was it his subconscious? Was he really the mystery guy Nurse Jackson was talking about?
Ugh! More and more questions keep flooding my brain.
Right now, I have two possible leads. First, June and Jude seem to recognize John, although they don't remember him. With a slight push, I might find my answer. But then again, the woods are now guarded by the police. Plus, the kids can turn into poltergeist if I push too far. Hmm...
Well, that brings me to my second lead. The St. Johns. Sure, Nurse Jackson isn't the most reliable witness in this town, but I guess it's worth a look. Then again, if I decide to follow this lead, there's a huge chance John will be named a person of interest in the murder case. Do I really want that?
What matters now is finding John's identity, right? Plus, we both now John is most unlikely the killer.
To be honest, we don't know that for sure. I mean, his expression that night was quite suspicious.
Well then, what better way to find out the truth than to investigate?
You do have a point there, Evil Me. Now, there's only one question remains: how do I get the St. Johns to talk to me?
***
The murder of Jill St. John surely has turned the town into hysteria.
I barely manage to find a seat in the usually quiet police station. Sitting next to me is a woman in her early thirties with a toddler on her lap. Not far from me, a couple of other visitors—reporters, judging by the notes and cameras they are holding—are standing near the wall. Meanwhile, my view is blocked by the ten people standing in line in front of the receptionist's desk.
Right now, lots of people are reporting even the smallest incident. How they feel like they're being followed, or that they saw someone suspicious, or even reporting about their missing cat.
"Where's the witness?" I can hear the familiar voice in between the crowd's chatter.
The officer behind the desk stands up and points my way. "There, the girl in the red coat."
My eyes dart across the room and I quickly stand up. The fact that he's just over six feet tall makes it easy for me to spot him in the crowd. The detective surprisingly wears a navy blue shirt today. Well, I guess you can't expect a guy to wear black every day, right?
From here, I can see his eyes roam the room for me, but my short stature makes it hard for him to find me among this crowd. I tip on my toes once again and start waving my hand. When he finally gets a look at my face, he stops and squints his eyes with disbelief. I grin widely at his expression. In the blink of an eye, his overjoyed expression turns into disappointment. Shaking his head, he lets out a heavy sigh.
He continues to walk until he stops right in front of me with his arms on his sides. "Now what?" he says, looking as annoyed as ever.
"So, I got you a new lead for the John Doe case." I gaze at him playfully, crossing both hands behind my back while my feet start tapping. "Interested?"
Slightly drawing his head backward, he raises one brow and looks at me with disbelief.
"Why is it that you always meddle with police business?" he asks with his usual cocky tone.
"I'm not meddling with anything, I'm just being a good citizen." My grin returns and I give him a confident nod.
He returns my defense with a set of judging eyes. "Okay, just hear me out." I step closer towards him. "I heard our John Doe is related to Jill St. John somehow."
His face turns serious in a matter of seconds. He glances at the reporters before grabbing my arm. I frown as he drags me to the empty spot far from the reporters.
"Who told you that?" He glances over his shoulders, making sure no one is listening to our conversation.
"Nurse Jackson remembers seeing someone suspicious storming off angry out of the St. John's house a couple of weeks ago," I reply.
"Nurse Jackson?" he says, sounding quite disappointed. He drags a hand to his hair and continues to glance at the reporters for a while, before returning his gaze to me. "You know she's a bit paranoid, right?"
"But what if she's right?" I ask.
He grits his teeth, the look on his face tells me he's having a hard time believing me. "Besides, how'd she know it was him? His face looks like Freddy Krueger, for Christ's sake!"
I snort, trying to hold my laughter. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks so, huh?
"Well, the overall stature and face structure seems quite palpable," I say, trying to regain my calm. Slowly, I can see a glimpse of curiosity in his golden-brown eyes. "Anyway, when Lorraine asked the girl about him, she said he was her brother."
His forehead puckers. "But the St. Johns doesn't have a son."
"I know." I nod, looking at him with an I-told-you-my-intel-is-awesome look on my face.
He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. Then he purses his lips together and slightly tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in the process. He repeats the action a couple of times, as if thinking the life out of him.
"Look, I was right once. What's to say I'm not right again?" I say, trying to sound as convincing as I can.
He grits his teeth once more before biting his lower lip. If I remember correctly, the last time he did that, he made his decision. Then I try to use my ultimate weapon: my Puss-in-Boots eyes.
"Tsk." He says through gritted teeth. "You're a bad omen, you know that?"
I give him a wicked grin.
Author's Note:
Hey, guys! So, we're one step closer to finding John's identity. How do you think is he related to Jill St. John? I'll be waiting for your theories!
Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it :)
PS: Don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter xD