"The first murder, it's like first love. It's unforgettable."
— Alexander Pichushkin
THIRTY
FRANK WAS BEGINNING TO PUT two and two together and he wasn't liking his result. He had only gone to complain to Mirabel because he had been informed that Aria went into the SSCD building the day before. The information had upset him so he had reluctantly watched the CCTV tapes. When he saw her speaking to some intern called James, he had been so upset. Aria looked suspicious, paranoid, and very terrified. Frank really hated that she hadn't come to him for whatever she needed, instead of snooping around.
No one could deny that Frank had done so much for Aria that he thought she had gained his trust. But no. She had lied about forgetting a bag and snuck into the building unauthorised. For some reason, he was scared that she was going to cause trouble to herself. Rita had always said with a firm voice— 'Curiosity doesn't sit well in SSCD.'
When he had walked into Rita's office earlier, he was on eggshells. Rita had the ability to intimidate him with a flick of her wrist. Frank was no coward but he knew Rita was a no-nonsense woman so he was always wary around her.
It didn't take very long for his meeting with Rita to take a turn for the worse. The second she had mentioned Franks family, it was over for him. She had been selfish, reaching into the most vulnerable part of him and spilling whatever she could get onto the coffee table between them. She had violently thrown his past at him and fuck, it had hurt him deeply but it had also confirmed his suspicions.
It was beginning to dawn on him that Rita had some fucking end game. She wasn't just doing her job. He had seen something sinister overcome Rita when she had seethed — 'Much like you, everyone I loved died in a single moment. And much like you, the murderer still lives.'
The venom and betrayal in her voice harboured years of pain. Frank had known Rita walked a lonely path in life but he could now see and feel the loneliness and desperation emanating from her. Immediately Rita had said this, she had instantly recovered but Frank had already seen enough. That sentence revealed a crack in her persona and within that crack, dark things wished to escape.
Whatever was in those cracks was why Rita was hellbent on completing this project. "I just know it."
Frank tugged out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, sparked a lighter and rested his head against the brick wall.
Frank remembered the part of that meeting that had shocked him enough to make him return to his old smoking habits.
Before he had left her office, he had made the mistake of looking down at her table. Right there, was a letter. His heart had taken a split second to lodge in his throat and for the first time in his life, he feared that he was being manipulated.
"Dear Diana,—"
That was all the letter had said. It was vague but that was all he needed to see to remember Arias wide eyes and trembling fingers as she complained to him about letters to her sister from SSCD.
Frank blew out a bellow of smoke from the cigarette he had been working on. He was trying to understand how and why Mirabel would be writing letters to Diana. It didn't make sense. What did Diana have to do with anything with this?
Then it hit Frank too, just as it hit Aria.
His cigarette fell from his fingers and he gasped. "Jesus Christ."
Frank jolted up from the wall of the smoking area and scrambled for the phone in his pocket. He pressed the only number he had kept on speed dial and fervently wished Aria would pick up. He silently hissed. "Come on, Aria, pick up your phone!"
Voicemail was all he got.
"Fuck." He cursed, wanting to punch a wall. Diana. Diana. Diana. Diana played a bigger role than he had ever thought. Aria had told him Diana wrote letters to some Dante guy, but he was beginning to believe that Dante wasn't who he claimed to be.
He shoved the phone into his back pocket, and hurled the pack of cigarettes far from him. He needed to find Aria before it was too late. He didn't know what it would be too late for. But he knew what betrayal felt like, and Aria seemed to be swimming in the centre of it all.
Frank didn't want to arouse suspicion so he all but sprinted to Arias room. More like a fast-walk. He walked into the accommodation and into the elevators. He passed his floor and came out on the floor where Ari lived. He noticed the light coming from her room and realised her door was wide open.
The few steps he took to get there was agonising. Walking into the room, he froze at the door. "What the fuck?" — he whispered, not comprehending what he was seeing.
Arias room was overturned. Drawers were tugged open, her bed had been stripped and the foam was out of place. Papers and clothes were a strewn on the floor and her computer was gone. There was not a single thing in her room that was left in place. Frank had worked in the criminal department for long enough to know that her room her had been ransacked. No, like it had been attacked. His eyes flew to the bathroom, and he saw that it was slightly ajar.
His earlier suspicions had been confirmed but now, he feared it was too late for him to do anything.
"Aria—?" He started shakily, taking a small step into the tornado of a room.
Just then, the bathroom door was slowly pushed open and Aria stepped out slowly. She didn't even look like Aria. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and her eyes were wide with terror. She had dark shadows under her hazel eyes, and her lips trembled. A bird. That's what he was reminded of. A fragile, injured bird. She noticed it was Frank at the door and she stiffened.
"Not you." She muttered. "Get out."
Frank ignored her, and the sympathy in his voice was unearthly. "Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? What happened here?"
"Don't act like you don't know what happened." She hissed, aggression laced her words for a moment. Then she sagged. "I'm tired of all the lies. Please, just go."
Frank watched her break in front of him and cursed. "For fuck sake Aria, I had nothing to do with this." He took another step into the room, and reached behind him to quietly shut the door. "I have never lied to you in my life. Hard to believe but true."
She looked at him for a long moment after that. An anticipating moment that held over both of them like a bomb. Her voice was barely audible when she spoke next. "It's funny because you were the only one I didn't trust."
"I never understood why."
"Paranoia?" She guessed. "You seemed too kind. It was also the fact that you were the only one who wasn't out to get me and I guess that scared me."
Franks lips were pressed in a thin line.
"I was made to not trust you."
Brows furrowed, Frank queried. "I don't understand."
"It was all part of the plan. We were both being manipulated." Her voice shook, and she lifted a trembling hand to her throat. "None of us know the truth."
That was Franks goal. The truth was exactly what he needed to know. He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. "What happened here?"
Aria stiffened at the contact but made no motion to move away.
She slowly glanced round the room. "I—I don't know. I found my room like this. Came back and everything was just like this. I hid in the bathroom when I heard footsteps. I thought someone was coming to hurt m—" and she sobbed before she could finish.
Frank closed his eyes. He didn't like seeing people cry. It reminded him of what he saw in the mirror after his family had died. "Do you know what they were looking for?"
Aria sniffed, a hand wiped her reddened eyes. "Looking for?"
Frank looked into her eyes with assurance. "I know what a search looks like. Whoever authorised this search wanted something from you. What's missing?"
Aria took a step back immediately. She paced the room, slowly opening her drawers and inspecting her strewn belongings. "I'm not sure..."
"Fuck. Okay." His hands passed through his unruly hair. He had neglected his grooming and knew his facial hair and head of hair were a mess. "Listen to me carefully. I know something."
She didn't stop pacing. "I don't want to know."
His teeth became barbed wires and he tried his best to sneak his words through them. "Aria, please, you don't know what you're saying."
Her head snapped to face him and venom laced her voice like poison. "I know enough."
"You're scared of what I'm going to say and you're right to be. But listen to me." She looked away and he was suddenly overcome with frustration and impatience. "It's about Diana's letters!"
Aria froze on her step and slowly turned to face him. Her eyes contained the accumulation of all the things that frightened him. Frank could tell that something had changed in the way she looked at him.
He took a breathe.
Aria shook her head at him. "Don't say another word, Frank." And then she lifted her hand to the potted plant beside her door. He frowned, confused. Was she mad? But he followed her fingers and noticed the little black bug. It was unnoticeable in the dirt.
Frank crouched down and peered closer. There it was. A bug. Arias room was tapped. Someone was listening. And he was beginning to believe that he knew who exactly who that was.
Aria muttered again. Her face a mask of many emotions. "I was serious. I don't want to know."
Frank, this time, got the hint.
_____
FRANK SHUT HIS BEDROOM DOOR behind him and instantly regretted that he hadn't been a neater person. He gestured to the empty spot on his bed for Aria to sit. "Sorry about the mess."
"I don't care."
If he thought all this was too much for him to handle, he wondered briefly how wild and lost Aria must be feeling. "I saw a letter on Rita's desk that was addressed to Diana."
If she felt any form of shock, she didn't show it. Frank had a small feeling that Aria had been shocked enough for one day. There was only so much a person could take. "So you think she's Dante."
"I think so."
"Oh." — was all she mustered. Her tears had not stopped spilling from the moment it had begun. It was an uncontrollable faucet that had broken at the hinge. Nothing could fix it.
Frank knew what heartbreak looked like.
"Where are they?" He quipped, to change the subject.
"I trusted Diana." Aria whispered, not answering his question. Her words took a significant amount of effort. She winced as she whispered them. "With my entire heart."
"Aria." Frank sighed. "You don't know that she's guilty of anything."
"Trust me, Frank. I know." Aria muttered. "You're the one who knows nothing."
"Well then there's only one way to know for sure, Aria." He watched her face cloud with confusion so he clarified. "The letters, I mean. Is there any way to get them from her? Reading them would show us the truth."
A pregnant silence settled for a moment.
Then Aria shoved it away with a wild gasp. "The letters!" A hand flew across her mouth. Realisation dawned on her once again. "Diana gave me the letters, and she wanted me to read them. She was giving me the truth. I had the answers all this while."
Aria gasped. "That's why she was crying."
Frank didn't understand.
"It was a confession."
"What are you—?"
"Frank, when Diana came to SSCD, she gave me the letters but I hadn't realised what she was doing at the time."
"You're saying Diana was confessing?"
Aria nodded. "You said no one knew that you brought her to SSCD? That means she didn't even tell Mirabel."
Frank overlooked the name blunder. "Because she didn't want her to know."
Aria snapped her fingers. "Exactly. She was confessing her sins to me in the only way she could without drawing attention to Mirabel."
She was musing. "That explains what happened to James." She finally gasped. "God. It's my fault."
"The intern?"
"Yes, the intern." She muttered. "Wait, how do you know him?"
"I saw you with him on the CCTV tapes." Frank accused.
Aria didn't care for Franks accusations. Instead, she cursed out loud. "The CCTV cameras. Fuck. If you saw me, then Mirabel saw me too. That's why they took him."
Frank was very lost. "What do you mean took him?"
"He was taken, Frank. I saw some security men hurling James away like he was rubbish. They had hurt him too."
Frank was shocked because he knew all security protocol and movement in SSCD. This was something serious that was amiss to him. "When the fuck—?!"
"This morning." Aria interjected. "And trust me, it makes sense. I had asked him to do something for me that led me closer to the truth. Now, he's being taken away because of me."
Frank felt his eyes turn to slits. "What had you asked him to do?"
Aria looked guilt-stricken. "I asked him to decipher the letter for me. I asked him to find out the address that was on the fucking..."
Frank cut her off. "Well? What address was it sent from?"
"Mine."
"Jesus." Frank hissed. He had begun to see the darkness of it all, and he felt like a fucking idiot for throwing himself into the middle of the mess.
He gritted. "So where are the fucking letters?"
Aria whispered, breathless from everything overwhelming. "That's what is missing from my room."
Oh.
Frank couldn't believe it. A humourless chuckle escaped his lips. "Somebody up in heaven has an incredibly dark sense of humour."
"No." Aria solemnly shook her head. "This ones from hell."
____
are we all shook? thank you next, bitch!
Not-so-fun-fact about Alexander Pichushkin: Alexander murdered old homeless men. Easy targets. He'd lure them with vodka, get drunk with them and just when they got comfortable, he would crush their skulls with a hammer. In what became his calling card, he'd leave the vodka bottle buried in their skulls.