Homicide, noun.
1. the killing of one human being by another.
2. a person who kills another, a murderer.
***
"So this girl, Cindy, broke up with her boyfriend, Mark, because he was making out with her best friend, Rose. But actually, it was a scam set up by the two girls so that Cindy wouldn't lose face in front of the school?"
Dad summed up what I had told him pretty well.
It was late, and, because he was technically still on duty, I had decided that, rather than eat Chinese takeaway alone at home, we could eat it together in his office. Wednesday nights were usually spent like this. Me bringing food and gossip to the police station, and him listening while eating aforementioned food. It was our thing.
I rummaged through my noodles looking for more shrimps until I finally found one. Grabbing it with my chopsticks, it was already halfway to my mouth when Dad finished his summary. "Exactly. From what I heard Cindy and Mark weren't going too well and the girl does the dumping rather than getting dumped. Or so she claims," I added with an eye roll. Cindy had gotten dumped more times than there were shrimps in my noodles. For once, she must have wanted to be on the other side of that conversation.
Putting down his empty carton on his desk, Dad leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head before resting them behind his head. The movement caused his uniform's shirt to tighten around his chest as well as for the light to catch on his Sheriff's badge, reminding me why we were having this conversation in here rather than at home. It didn't matter; I had gotten more than used to it over the years. Sure, it would be nice for him to be home more often, but the police station had become like a second home to me. I knew every nook and cranny of the building, as well as every deputy. A fair share of them had helped me with my homework growing up, beaten me at poker while waiting for Dad's shift to end or chauffeured me home when his shift didn't end.
"Didn't you say that after she broke up with her boyfriend, Cindy also got angry with Rose? Why would she do that if they were in on it together?"
"To make it seem believable," I told him in a duh-tone.
How could he not figure that out? Wasn't his job figuring stuff out? And yet this escaped him completely. It wasn't his fault though; he had had a long shift today, on top of the one he had had yesterday. It didn't seem to matter he had spent most of his day at his desk today. He had arrested Benny again yesterday, the local car thief - and not a very good one since he kept getting caught - which had led to quite a bit of paperwork. The bags under his eyes told me he needed to catch up on more than a couple of hours of sleep. He must have been running on nothing but caffeine and sugar.
"Won't the truth come out tomorrow, though, when they go back to being best friends?" Dad frowned, reaching for his fortune cookie.
"No," I shrugged, stuffing my mouth with another load of noodles. "You know, the whole 'sisters before misters' thing." A look of incomprehension appeared on Dad's face, his hands freezing in their movement to unfold the fortune while his eyes came up to mine. "Lasses before asses?" I tried. "It's like saying 'bros before hoes' but the female version."
Dad chuckled and tried to get the wrinkles out of his little piece of encrypted future. "I didn't know there was such a thing."
"Of course, there is! Why wouldn't there be?"
Finishing the noodles, I looked at Dad and watched as he read his fortune. He munched his cookie quietly as a frown appeared to crease his forehead. It was strange to see him like that; he never, ever, took his fortunes as more than a joke. And why would he? They were completely random. He'd read them silently to himself, laugh and read it out loud to me. One time, he got one saying to go buy another meal, and another time it was a request to ignore what the previous cookie said.
So why was he frowning now?
"Dad, what does it say?" I asked, curious.
Looking away from his fortune, he grinned at me and was about to tell me when his desk phone rang. With a sigh, he held up a finger to ask me to wait and picked it up. The conversation was mostly one sided. Dad only said, "Really?... Where?... In this weather?... I'm on my way." In that exact order. Then he put the phone down and looked at me. It was a look I knew well; it was his look that meant he wasn't going to come home anytime soon.
"Sorry, kiddo, but there was a one-eight-seven in some back alley near Seventh and Hall."
I arched an eyebrow at that. A homicide? And I guess his question about the weather did make sense. It had been raining cats and dogs for most of the week already, and the wind had picked up quite a bit since I made it to the station. No one in their right mind would venture outside right now. Then again, no one in their right mind would murder someone regardless of the weather. But still, didn't murderers also prefer to be nice and cozy inside? Could their murder not wait until the sky had cleared up? On the other hand, the rain washed away all potential evidence they might have left behind.
"I'll ask Hank to give you a lift home, okay?" He planted a quick kiss on the top of my head before heading for the door, pulling on his waterproof windbreaker as he went. "And good luck with your Chemistry test tomorrow!"
He was gone before I could even call back a goodbye. I gave a halfhearted wave that no one was there to witness before sinking down into the chair with a sigh. Another night alone at home. Great. Oh well, nothing I could do about that.
When Hank knocked on the office door, I was cleaning up the desk, clearing away all evidence of the takeaway Chinese food. "Ready to go home, Sawyer?" Hank was nice. He was the same age as Dad and they had been best friends since high school. He was also one of the better poker players at the station. He and his wife, Ellen, lived next door from us, which meant that Ellen would often check up on me when her husband and Dad were working a long shift at the station. Growing up, I even called him Uncle Hank.
"Yeah, just need to throw this away and I'll meet you at the front desk," I told him with a smile.
He closed the door as he left and I went to chuck the empty containers into the bin when Dad's fortune caught my eye. In the end, he didn't even get to tell me what it was. Without a second's hesitation, I snatched up the piece of paper and turned it over, scanning the words.
The answer you seek is in another cookie.
The fortune was so lame I couldn't understand why Dad would stare at it for so long. Maybe it was because he hadn't actually been seeking for an answer. But then the phone had rung and there was a body downtown. He would be looking for answers now, but I doubted a fortune cookie could tell him the answer to that big question.
Crumpling up the fortune, I threw it in the trash, grabbed my own cookie and headed for the front of the station. I didn't want to keep Hank waiting for too long, especially since he would probably join Dad after he had dropped me off. When I reached the front desk, the room was illuminated by the red and blue lights of the sirens outside. It was hard to make anything out through the torrent of rain outside, but I could vaguely make out the shapes of people moving about in the rain before the cars disappeared, one after another. Everyone seemed to move about in a frantic chaos, moving quickly and with a goal in mind.
Without realizing it, I had stepped out of the building and watched all the activity from under the porch, only partially sheltered from the rain. It was strange to see such a fuss over a murder. The person was already dead, and that wasn't going to change if they got there a few minutes late. But to see so many deputies leave for the crime scene, to see the cars with the sirens on. Just who was this dead person?
When all the cars had disappeared out of sight and the chaos had died down, I realized that there was still something wrong. Although the parking lot was now practically deserted, it felt as if there was still someone out there. Like they were watching the police station. Like they were watching me. That thought had a shiver running up my spine. Scanning the darkness ahead of, I wasn't surprised that I didn't see anything beyond the light of the station. The rain wasn't making things easier either. If someone really was out there, they were completely hidden by the weather.
Pulling my jacket closed against the cold wind and the incessant rain, I shoved my hands deep into my pockets trying to rid myself of that feeling. As I did so, I crushed the fortune cookie that I had already completely forgotten. Taking it out, I stared at the crack in the biscuit. The golden exterior had cracked right through the middle and was crumbling to bits. The white piece of paper was visible but I couldn't quite make out what it read. Managing to pry the slip of paper free from the cookie, I did my best to smooth out the wrinkles.
There is something watching and there is something being watched.
I nearly dropped the fortune, littering the front steps of the station.
No way! Glancing ahead into the darkness, there really was nothing or no one to be seen. And yet that annoying feeling of being watched hadn't gone away. Something is watching and something is being watched. Or someone. I scanned the darkness again but I really couldn't see anything through the rain. To make it worse, there seemed to be a fog settling in.
"Ready to go?"
A hand landed on my shoulder at the same time as the question was asked. I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. Turning around, I found Hank looking down at me with a funny expression. A frown appeared on his face before he too scanned the parking lot.
"Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost," he joked lightly though I could tell he had been entirely serious.
Nodding, I forced a smile onto my face. "Yeah, it's nothing. The weather is playing tricks on me." Hank nodded before glancing at the parking lot again. "It doesn't seem to want to let up. Maybe you should drive me home now before it gets any worse," I suggested.
***
The next day, after school, I was in a hurry to get home for two reasons. One; the rain still hadn't let up and I was walking. Two; Dad ought to be at home rather than at the station for once. I hadn't heard him come home last night, nor had I seen him that morning. He had probably spent the night at the station again after they had finished at the crime scene. I really hoped he would be home now because I had a lot of questions.
"I'm home!" I called out, hoping to get an answer.
Closing the kitchen door behind me, I felt the disappointment flowing through my body when the house remained silent. I flicked on the kitchen light and dropped my bag on the table. I headed straight for the fridge, opening it in the hopes of finding a snack inside. Sometimes when I did this I would wonder how many of my classmates did the exact same thing the moment they got home. How different could a bunch of teenagers really be, despite what we claim?
To my irritation, the fridge was actually empty. No snack to be found in there.
My eyes glided to the counter. Sure enough, under Dad's favorite polka-dotted mug was a note and a couple of twenties. Moving the mug away, I took it as a sign that he had at least come home that day. 'Sorry for the empty fridge. If you could get the groceries that would be great. Looks like tonight is going to be another long one. Don't wait up.' I sighed and turned to the kitchen window; I debated whether it was really important to eat tonight because I didn't feel like going back out into the rain anytime soon. But Dad wanted me to do to the groceries, so I would have to do the groceries.
Pulling my still soaking jacket back on, I stuffed the bills into my jeans pocket before grabbing the umbrella again.
The grocery store was a ten-minute walk on a good day. On a rainy day, with strong gusts of wind blowing in my face, that time easily doubled. Consequently, I was soaking wet by the time I stepped inside. My shoes were squeaky on the tiled floor and I left a trail of water in my wake. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one to do so and I didn't feel particularly guilty about that.
Walking around in wet clothes, I think a lot of people would agree with me, is the worst thing. It is uncomfortable; your clothes are all heavy, you get cold and, eventually, your limbs will just go numb. Usually, I would want to get out of them as quickly as possible, stand under a warm shower to fight the cold and the numbness, and then dress in soft pj's for the rest of the evening. Sadly, that wasn't an option right then. Instead, I trudged wetly through the aisles, filling my basket with items of food, thinking of the hot cup of tea that I would reward myself with once I got back home.
To make things worse, it was cold inside the store. I moved through the lanes as quickly as I could, gathering the necessities. None of the other shoppers seemed to want to linger too long either, though I doubted any of us really wanted to head outside again. As a matter-of-fact, once all my groceries had been packed away in plastic bags, I stood in front of the door for a good five minutes, giving myself a mental pep talk.
"Are you going to stand there for much longer?" a nasal voice called out to me.
Turning, the store manager was staring at me with an annoyed look. I had seen the man around the store a few times and every time he stared at me. Like he didn't want me around. Like he suspected me to rob him. Like he knew something I didn't. It was a ridiculous thought really. Not answering him, I stepped outside and opened my umbrella.
I didn't get much further than that though.
Heading left to go home, I had bumped into someone, causing me to drop one of the bags. The umbrella shifted awkwardly in my head. I backed up to righten it the moment I felt the ice cold rain pouring down my neck and running down my shirt. Maybe I shrieked when I felt it; I'm not sure. If I had, that must have been embarrassing. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there," I said before looking up at the person I had walked into.
Anything else I might have added died in my throat. The young man who stood in front of me was tall, forcing me to tilt the umbrella back to look at his face. Easily six foot, I mentally assessed. Despite being out in the pouring without an umbrella, he smiled down at me. His hair was glued to his face but I could clearly make out his gray eyes and he looked down at me. Why didn't he appear even remotely annoyed that I had bumped into him, especially in this weather? What kind of strange person was he?
"That's okay," he told me. He had a nice voice. Soft and friendly. "I don't think either of us was really watching where we were going, right?"
He squatted down and started gathering the groceries that fallen out of the bag. Hastily, I helped him as they were my groceries after all. I tried to shield us both as much as possible from the rain while reaching for an orange that rolled away. The stranger reached for it at the same time and our hands brushed against each other briefly. His skin was warm, surprisingly so. I quickly pulled my hand back and stared at him. Our town wasn't too large but I didn't pretend I knew everyone. Still, he looked to be about my age, seventeen or eighteen, meaning he would go to my school. And yet, he was a complete stranger. Maybe he was new to town? Or perhaps he was simply visiting. Why did it matter, really? It was raining, it shouldn't matter one bit.
Another smile spread across his lips as he held out the orange for me to take. I did so, noticing my trembling hand. It was the cold. I needed to get out of the rain before I got sick or something. Then I noticed that the strange boy was wearing a vest but nothing else. A dark gray thin hoodie kind of thing that offered no protecting against the unrelenting downpour. He had gotten entirely wet standing out there helping me gather my groceries. And still, he did not look annoyed.
When we both straightened up, I sought for the right words to say to him. Nothing came to mind.
"Be more careful from now on, okay? The next person might not be as nice and me." He offered me another smile before he walked into the groceries store like nothing had happened.
I looked after him until the doors closed again and even then I couldn't move. It was only then that I noticed the fog rolling in and settling itself a few inches from the ground. A loud rumble of thunder overhead jolted me out of my trance. Better get home before I got caught outside in a storm; the rain was already bad enough.
***