Chapter 5

Sevina

I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks when I face the occupied street. Perplexed people stop by the mismatched crowd, semi-circling the windows of my workplace.

In the distance, above the mix of heads, I make out an ambulance and a siren of a cop car.

Before I know it I’m pushing through the mass of onlookers to the front of a lined-off perimeter. Three patrol vehicles and two ambulance vans are stationed by the building, cops and medics walking to and fro in the restaurant itself.

A sickening feeling gathers in my gut as I process the scene. I lift the yellow tape and it glows red, sending off a few restricting beeps. The sounds fly past my ears as I bend under it and scurry forward, only to be pulled short by a strong grip that catches my arm. “I work here.” My agitation grows. “I work here!”

A shadow steps in front of me, taking the form of a lean-faced cop in a blue and black uniform.

“Calm down.” He shields the view with his massive body and throws his arms out, preventing me from rounding him. “Five of your co-workers are already here.” He points to the other end of the lined-off semicircle. A bunch of unsure gatherers mingle between one of the ambulances and a police car.

“What happened?” I’m breathless.

The officer hesitates, his lean face concerned. “Two people were murdered last night,” he says. At night? Only Rovy and Mrs. Brice are here during the night. “The owners of the restaurant…” The sound blurs as his words cut the link between my senses and my brain.

“What?” I think I say. More words spill from his mouth, inevitably sinking me to the ground with a weight too heavy. I find myself swaying and tripping over.

“Hey! I need some help!” Rings through the air as an arm scoops around my back, lowering me gently to my knees. Moments later a face of a woman in a white uniform appears in front of me, some device in her hand beeping above my head.

I push her it away. “I’m fine.” Before they bring a stretcher I prop on the lean-face and shuffle to my feet. “Leave me alone.” Yet the medics guide me to the back of the ambulance and to the rest of my co–workers. A medic woman places a silver blanket around my shoulders and talks to me as she takes my pulse, but I don’t care.

“Sevina?” one of the staff girls says.

I’m fine. Leave me alone.

As I sit drowsily people rush about the scene, in and out of the restaurant. The cop who helped me struts around and curses under his breath as he peeks into the crowd, periodically checking his pad. He’s waiting for somebody. A couple medics chitchat further away, their mouths moving, hands slicing the air in explanation. They’re going about their normal day…

I don’t understand…

Someone’s yelling. “Let me through! Move!” The voice belongs to a middle-aged woman, forcing her way into the restricted area. She has dark skin and wears a white buttons-up shirt, barely tucked into her blue jeans. Will— Rovy’s aunt.

The tape beeps, but she doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m a bloody detective!” An officer’s badge flashes in her hand and her chaotic short hair bounces around her head as she shoves it into every cops face. One of them sweeps it with his identification scanner just in time before Rovy’s aunt snatches it back and strides to the restaurant’s entrance.

“Finally.” The cop who helped me reaches his arm into the air. “Brice!”

He catches up to her and they fade behind the windows where I see the officer gesture and explain something as they pass the aisle between the tables. I crane my neck to see them but they disappear into the kitchen.

Who wanted them dead? The worst I ever saw was Rovy throw away some adequate leftovers. Was it a robbery, an accident? They never hurt anyone. There is no reason to want them dead, yet they are.

The only two people who mattered to me. The motherly figure I had. The only friend…

Wait…

He is dead. Rovy is dead…

Is it because he knew? Has it anything to do with me?

Chatter arises to my right and the atmosphere around us thickens. “Oh my God is that...” One of the co-workers whispers.

The blanket slides down my shoulders as I stand.

I knew it! A mistake! They’re alive and well. Here they’re walking out the doors…

I stay impartial even when my co-workers begin gasping with shock. Lead out the door is Corrin, his hands cuffed behind his back and his head hanging low. A cop walks by his side.

One of the co-workers calls to him and his eyes slide past the staff and halt on me for a bare second, but I read nothing more than exhaustion on his face before the officer seats him into the back of the patrol car.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Do you think he did it?” One of the staff members asks the question on everybody’s mind.

“Can’t be,” one girl answers.

I let out a long-held breath. No way someone that adored could do something like this. But what if he did? Or at least knew or saw the killer? Could his subtle gestures have been an unconscious signs of distress?

In a moment of clarity I cock my head to the staff. “Did the cops mention the questioning? Will we be taken into custody?”

“Yes, they said we’ll all have to answer questions,” says one of the boys. “Didn’t say when.”

It’s all I need to hear to step away from the ambulance. If Corrin goes to jail I at least have to look him in the eyes… try to.

A few cops follow me with their eyes as I cross the area. An older officer hangs around the car Corrin is seated in.

“How do I get to the police station for the questioning? I’m his co-worker.” I ask the man.

The old cop gives me a once-over and puts his hand to the comm in his ear. He grumbles some questions about me.

“Go to that car right there.” He points to another patrol vehicle. I don’t argue, hoping that somehow against all odds I’ll get a shot at Corrin’s eyes. By the car I stop and look at the old cop. He waves at me that I’m allowed to sit inside.

A while later the lean-faced cop and Rovy’s aunt come out the restaurant doors, medics follow with two stretchers and body bags on them. I bow my head sharply and focus on my feet instead, but I can’t block it all out, can’t deny what’s happening. I raise my eyes and follow Rovy’s aunt walk straight to the car Corrin’s in, her fingers in tight fists. She and the cop sit inside and she leans to the back and riles at Corrin who shrinks deeper into the seat.

The front driver door of my vehicle thuds and a young officer takes the wheel. He doesn’t speak and I guess he knows why I’m here.

The car’s console lights up blue as he starts the engine. All cop cars are electrical. Good for creeping up on people. Universally hated by every Coater. I’m only glad they’re not hover cars.

Another policeman removes the tape and lets us through after the Corrin’s vehicle. The crowd disperses and we roll out into the street.

The drive feels like forever. People in the Coats go about their day, and every shop and restaurant we pass adds yet another stone onto the pile in my chest.

Central Coats Police Department is like any other structure in the district but pushed a bit deeper into the row of buildings to leave space for the patrol cars. I’ve heard other departments have automated parking lots underground, housing hundreds of vehicles.

The only distinctive mark above the entrance is the old-school jumbotron with a police sigil. There’s also a holo screen for recent news that no one looks at.

The chair creaks as we’re seated on the third floor in an empty waiting hall with three thugs sitting on the far side. There aren’t as many cops as I expected. The uniformed ones must be on duty or located on the floors below.

I had been here before, on the day they put me into the foster care. What I forgot is how, despite it being a governmental agency, shabby the station is; bullet marks scatter on the wall, a crack runs through the ceiling and yucky smell of sweat drenches the air.

I sit five chairs away from Corrin, who’s supposed to be taken into custody in minutes, while Will and the lean-faced cop argue over the case further away. The young officer who drove me here tries to interject, but gives up and instead points at me and receives a quick nod from the lean-face.

As soon as the young officer heads out I hiss to Corrin’s side. “Corrin.”

He shifts in his place and notices me, “Sevina?” He did keep his head low the whole time. “What are you doing here?”

I notice his dark outfit. It might be a coincidence since he never wore bright clothing anyway. If only I could trust him. If only I knew him like Rovy and his mom. I gulp hard and hold my cool. “Did you kill them?” I ask sternly.

Corrin’s damp blue eyes cross with mine. I put my biggest effort into catching the lies and truths, the fear and guilt, but one can only see so much in a second. It is either nothing or everything, and I will never be ready for everything.

“No.” His answer is steady, with a wretched undercurrent slowly crawling into his face. Guilty or not, he saw something. He lowers his head, his hair shielding his face. Will and the cop throw their glances at us and I sit straight, facing the bullet-marked wall.

I should’ve looked into his eyes!

I shiver and shrug away the fear.

I’m a coward.

Should I take his word for it? There is no other choice. If I look and find out he did it will break me. Who knows my reaction once I get a hold of myself, once the fear passes. I’ll jump at him in a fit of conniption, grab his neck and squeeze until satisfaction of reprisal would stop me. Adrenaline would give me strength to do it, and he’s cuffed anyway… and, possibly, I’d be arrested as well.

Twisted. I inwardly shake this scenario away. How can I even conjure up something like that? I mustn’t be perceiving this situation straight yet, but behind every action there is always a reason…

Detective Will and the cop come to some sort of solution. “I’ll talk to Sergeant Simons,” he says to Will who holds her rage in by squeezing her thumbs red. “Take him into custody, right now, before Simons finds out. Causing trouble will never get you the case, not to mention they were your relatives.”

“You convince him,” she grinds out.

“I doubt I’ll be able, but I’ll try.”

I think she’s going to plant a deep punch into the his face, but she reins in herself. “Fine.”

The cop turns to me. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” He disappears around the corridor bend.

Instead of guiding Corrin where she was told to, Will stays still, her eyes locked on his head, hovering above him like a hawk about to swoop down and grab its prey.

She closes in on him and her fingers grasp his shirt, yanking him off his chair.

“What the—” I yell out before with all her force she throws Corrin on his back, her fist in the air. She leaps on him, striking a blow across his head.

Without any thought to what I’m doing, but instinctively avoiding to touch the blazing woman, I grasp the chair and swing at her from the side. She catches its leg. Her enraged eyes turn, meeting mine and in my shock, still gripping the chair, I’m helpless to do anything but to lock my eyes on hers.

In an instant, like a clouded sky finally shedding some light, everything becomes clear. It all makes sense.

Will grabs the chair and flings it away. Scraping, it slides along the corridor floor. My knees bend and I feel myself deflate to the ground. I haven’t done this in a while and I was afraid of it. Now I truly remember why.

“Sev?” A hefty voice to my left. Over the images and feelings rushing through my mind, I realize I’m lying on my back, trembling with my eyes locked on the ceiling. Sweat coats me in seconds and I clutch my fingers into fists so strong my nails cut into my flesh. “Sevina?” Corrin’s voice holds my attention as I shake in fear. In anger. I must appear like I’m having a mild seizure.

So much pain...so much resentment… and all the reasons, they’re there.

I can’t, I can’t…

People shout, dragging Will away. A gentle nudge into my shoulder scares and wakes me at the same time. I turn my head to Corrin’s face who scooted over to nudge me for some reason.

“I’m sorry.” He drops his head on the floor, lying on his side next to me. A rivulet of blood drops from his nose and crosses his cheek.

“This is fucked up,” I bite out, fighting to keep my breath steady.

“Yeah, it is.”