“Vale has always been a town known for the resilience of its residents. They have been tested first when their old mayor, Mr. Relicta was killed by a drunk driver and while not everyone agreed with his leadership we all felt for the daughter he left behind.” The voice fades from the radio as a man ,with streaks of grey peeking out of his short brown hair, paces back and forth inside the police station. The voice sounds from the radio once more.
“We would realize how much we cherished her but it would be after she left. Even with the death of Mrs. Blake, one of the pillars of our community, there is still hope. Mr. Relicta’s daughter is back after five years and just like she did before she left, we hope she will help us. So I urge you, citizens of Vale, to shake off the fear the recent murderer and kidnapper have jamed into you. Fear is what they want you to feel, they want to keep you afraid. But fear won’t help your lost loved ones so get back to living your lives and let's help Camille in any way we can. This is Nora Anderson of A-Soul Radio signing off.”
The man continues pacing in front of a wide reaching window ,with a warm cup of coffee in hand, stops to flick off the ended broadcast. A woman bearing short auburn hair sits staring at the same window but this window does not lead outside like most, it connects two rooms together. A handful of other cops and detectives line the room with folders and scalding coffees in hand. A door opens and a well dressed man with long white hair steps through and heads to the pacing man.
“Chief, I got your pain pills and we’ve set Ms Relicta up in the interrogation room.” The younger cop’s arm stiffly extends offering the container. “I hope you don’t mind but I picked up mine while I was there also.”
“My back thanks you Vincent. And that’s fine.” He smiles before turning towards the crowd of officers. “Lance! She’s all yours.” The brown haired man takes the pills from Vincent before popping one inside his mouth and washing it down with his coffee.
A tall tan man with dark messy hair turns to the chief before he begins to speak.
“Sorry Kane but I watched this girl grow up, I’m not going to be the one to interrogate her. You’ll just have to find someone else. Besides, an interrogation would be better suited for someone that is impartial.”
“Damn it Lance! You’re our only homicide detective.” grumbles the chief.
“I know, but I’m not going to do it. So let it go or fire me.” Lance's eyes hold no anger, only steadfast determination.
“Vincent, I guess you’ll be interrogating Ms. Relicta. Just don’t let this go to your head, newbie.” A pleasant grin streams from the greying man but Vincent remains expressionless. Without a word or another second wasted Vincent retrieves Camille’s file from Lance before opening the door once more.
***
The room sits in stillness as the young man enters, before him lays a set of thin metal chairs and a plastic folding table. Setting the file on the table he opens to the first page as he begins to circle the table. Camille looks at him and can’t help but scowl.
“Hello, my name’s Detective Vincent Valor..but you already know that…wellI’ll questioning you today. First we want you to know we found a gun at the scene but haven't been unable to get prints off it so far. But since you have no traces of GSR, the residue left behind when a gun is fired, we are not arresting you outright. We will be keeping an eye on you but at this point we would rather have your help than have you as a suspect.” Vincent stops and looks at the girl before continuing around the table. His eyes are soft and if Camille didn’t know better she would say there was even kindness in them. But she did know better.
“And how can I help?” At one time she wouldn't have to ask, she would have figured it out but ever since that gun went off she hasn’t been able to think straight just like after the car crash. Guilt, confusion and sorrow all mixed together like a spider's web. Once those thoughts entered her mind there was almost nothing she could do to break free. And she knew it.
“Ms. Relicta, you’re here today because you were the last person to see Mrs. Blake alive.” as his movements take him around the table he peers at Camille but she remains motionless, a hungering heat filling her chest.
“I’ll make this easter for you and ask you questions that hold interest to us instead of making you needlessly recount the events since you have already done so with the officers on scene. My first question is what happened? We know Mrs. Blake was shot but we don’t know by who or why.” finishing his circle he rests his hands on the table leaning in his haunting blue eyes stare unrealting. The glimmer of kindness that was there moments before shows no trace now.
“I don’t know, they came out of nowhere, dressed in one of those hoodies the stoners around the junkyard wear, and shot her.” The scorching pain rises in her chest filling every crack so there is no hiding from it, no forgetting it. The scene flashed in her head, first her rushing forward in a fit of anger then Serana bleeding unable to keep herself from remembering, her mind switches to her dad’s truck falling into the endless void.
I couldn’t find the driver who killed my dad but I can find Serana’s killer. Serana seemed distrustful of the police, not that I can blame her…could blame her. The less I tell them the better that way they don’t get in my way.
Serana was digging up information on her missing son and whoever took Amias probably shot Serana because she was getting too close. She died protecting some kind of information that I don't think she told the police. So the last thing I should do is tell the police she distrusted them after all they could have killed her. I doubt they would but it’s possible she thinks to herself. You have to play it smart and find a way to get out of this until you can think of a good lie or something to throw them off and give you time to deal with this on your own.
Vincent looks less than impressed. “Surely there’s more to it than that. Do you know of anyone that held a grudge against her? She owned a diner so maybe a rival business? Anything you can tell us will help in our investigation.” As his desperate tone scrapes into Camille’s ears but it gives her an idea. Tearing apart the wall that holds her anger away she allows a trickle to flow from it pooling in her eyes.
“You want to know what happened. Six years ago I left and even when I showed up out of the blue she still cared about me. Then she died because that is what happens to people who care about me! They die! Are you satisfied? The unbridled anger pours from her as she allows her thick walls to leak like a defective dam, however the longer she speaks the more her anger leaks out changing from a gentle trickle to a roaring gush. The image of Serana laying on the ground bleeding out ingrains itself into her head with a thought she was too familiar with. It’s all your fault.
“Ma’am I didn't mean to upset you-”
“Yes you did!”Camille’s eyes boil with anger as she relives Seranas last moments. “Your pacing was to do nothing but upset me! Someone close to me was killed but that doesn't matter to you. No, you want any and all information you can get regardless of what it’ll do to me!” The words race from her mouth as the heat in her chest combusts, sending fire and rubble in its wake. At first she thought letting some out would help her stop his questioning but she didn’t know she would lose control over it, again. It was the exact thing that got Serana killed. She got Serana killed.
“You were a cop right? Surely you understand-”Vincent begins again trying to get even a few words in.
“No you understand! Hounding someone for answers the day after they lose a loved one is cruel. And I was a cop, why do you think I stopped being one because I got tired of it?” Camille abruptly stands limping towards the door but Vincent stands stiff, his eyes wide. He looks like a deer staring into blinding headlights. The heat flares up as she passes Vincent but she doesn't look at him as she slams the door behind her.
***
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Moments turn to minutes as Vincent stares at the wall ahead of him. Damn it that was our only lead. I know I had no clue what I was doing but why’d she react like that? If she didn't flip out and just talked to me we’d of been able to bring whoever shot Mrs. Blake to justice, why can’t she see that? Is she so caught up in herself she can’t think of others?
“Vinces.” A smooth soft voice calls from behind him. He turns his head to see the auburn haired cop that was watching the entire thing from behind the safety of the glass.
“What is it?”
“Chief wants everyone to meet in his office. He seems tense so I doubt it’s for a job well done.”
Just great. “Thanks Milly, I’ll be in, in a sec.” Vincent collects himself preparing for whatever his dad had to say to him. Even though he knows he was not suited for the task and had failed before he’d even started, it doesn't make him feel any less guilty for potentially losing vital information.
***
As cops and detectives make their way to the chief's office Camille passes the rows of desks. Her mind rebels, denying her control. It spins like it hasn't in years her mind floods with dozens of memories. She braces herself with the nearby desk: her eyes shootaround the room but settle on an orange container filled halfway with little green pills resting neatly on a spotless desk. Something she recognizes all too well, Benzo. Only briefly checking her surroundings she takes the container with a sweep of her hand and slips it inside her pocket before making her way out of the precinct. Stealing from a cop in a police station is not your shining moment Camille.
Her chest aches for relief but she knows better than to give in. Sure she had taken pills from an officer but that does not mean she has to take them even if she wants to. “You always have a choice” that’s what she always heard at the A.A meetings.
***
Inside the now tightly packed office the fuming chief stands hunched at his desk as he runs his left hand over his head. Vincent stands formally at the tip of the dest as if waiting for something. Minutes begin to feel like hours as every cop and detective stand idly awaiting what is to be said of Vincent's attempt at interrogation. Finally Kane looks at Vincent.
“Detective Valor, You were instructed to question Ms. Relicta as a witness to figure out what she knew. You not only have you failed at doing so but you made the department look like fools.” The chief pauses momentarily and begins to pace, opening his mouth to carry on with his lecture but is interrupted by Detective Lance.
“Well hold on there Kane, this boy tried his best and to be honest what did we expect. He normally deals with missing persons and you still had him talk to the witness. Vincent was inexperienced and frankly out of his depth. It didn't help that you placed a witness in the same room used for interrogating suspects. Not wonder she freaked.”
The chief stares at Lance, his tiny grey hairs almost visabely growing.
“So how can you blame him when this is clearly your fault for telling him to do something he had no practice or even knowledge of in the first place?” A handful of chuckles escape the surrounding officers but end when Kanes glares at them.
“Lance! That is no way to speak to your chief! And if we're throwing blame around it’s your own damn fault for not interviewing the witness like you were told!” Kane looks to the other cops and detectives stuffed inside the small office as his anger radiates from him burning all in the room.
“And now why the hell is everyone here?”
“Sir, you told us to meet you in your office right after Ms. Relicta was questioned.” one of the half awake cops hesitantly replies.
“Did I? Well guess I won’t be needing you after all. Everyone ,but Vincent, out” With nothing more than a wave of his hand the room quickly thins out.
The chief paces back and forth behind his desk twirling a large pen with his index finger and middle finger.
“So where was I…Oh yes! I expect better from you Vincent. Even though you’re new to the department you have shown us you're one of our best.”
Vincent's eyes track Kane as he paces in front of his desk but Vincent’s expression remains the same. Expect better! I could have done better, If I was shown or at least told what to do. You threw me to the wolves and got mad when I came back bleeding.
“And because you’re one of our best I'm going to look past your mess up and Lance will be instructed to give you a crash course on witness interviews and suspect interrogation.” The chief settles back in front of his desk. “ You are dismissed.”
Vincent pivots and walks out of the office slowly closing the door behind him, I know I’m new and all but how does he get away with treating everyone like that? Does everyone here just take it? Well Detective Lance did show some backbone. The entire reason I wanted the job here was to help reform the police and make him happy. I guess they’re going to need a lot more reforming than I thought. As Vincent drifts into thought he relocates to his desk and upon looking down scratches his head where not long before lay a container of pills. What the hell? Where did they go?
***
Outside the frigide air freezes Camille to the bone as she walks the deserted streets. Her hands, which are tucked deeping into the pockets of her worn water resistant jacket, grip aa can of pepper spray. She had bought it after Seranas’s murder and while she knew it would do little against a gun she no longer felt as untouchable as she did when she first arrived back in town. Only now that she was back in Vale did she wish she had bought a car but after the accident she never could get herself to drive one so buying one would’ve been a waste. The soft chirps of crickets fill the air only to be broken by the piercing cries of a lone raven. The chilling breeze nips her face as her mind's stillness begins to drift back to the last fall she enjoyed.
***
Vibrant gusts of orange and yellow whirl past an eight year old girl with short ginger hair. The girl and a woman with the same long red hair walk hand in hand while a small boy with light brown hair walks aside of them.
“So, what else do you guys want to do for your birthday?” the taller redhead asked.
“Oh! Oh! We could paint, or make a leaf pile. But we have to make a big cake so there is enough for all of us.” says the boy as he proceeds to skip excitedly along playing hop-scotch with himself even if there's no chalk lines.
“And Camille, what do you want to do with the rest of your birthday?”
“I want Daddy to be here. Mommy, Why isn't he spending the day with us? He did last year?” the soft green eyes stare at the cement sidewalk.
“Well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to.”
“Like school?” askes the cheerful boy.
“Yes Kai, like school. And just as you and Cammie must go to school, your dad has to run the mayor's office.”
“So why can’t he be with us instead of going to work today? I thought family was the most important thing?”
“It is, but even though he can set his hours, Vale has a lot to take care of. And sometimes people we love have to be alone for a little bit, even if we don’t like it.”
“I don’t like being alone.” Kai chimes in
“You’ll never be. Both you and Camille will always have me and your dad.”
***
Leaves flutter across the street as Camille limps by herself, her mind setting back to the present. Tears pool on the surface of her eyes as the knot tightens in her stomach. Continuing her journey forward Camille opens the container, her hand shaking as she holds a long green pill in hand. She feels the urge taking over. She thinks of fighting it but wants the point. The people she was keeping it together for are gone. She struggles to swallow the pill at first, but soon it slides down her throat.
The knot melts away, disappearing but as quickly as the knot leaves something different takes its place. A net of pain spreads from the bottom of her spine to the top of her head. Struggling to keep her head and her entire body upright the redhead continues forward despite it all. This is not the time to be feeling sorry for yourself. It’s time to suck it up and live with your pain. You can’t go back to drinking, at least not until Amias is found. But the pills are different. right? The pills help me. I mean they have to be right. They got rid of the terrible guilty feeling. And besides they don’t feel as bad as drinking does.
As she desperately convinces herself, her forehead sends another splintering strike as if to test her resilience. Camille feels her body give out from under her only moments before the cold pavement calls to her. Her body settles onto the numbing cold cement as her eyes heavily close. The pavement numbs her face, it feels good, like ice cream after a day in the sun. She slowly lets her eyes close.
A black raven watches from the opposite side of the street. It moves towards her but as a handful of people gather around it flies away. At the sight of an unconscious girl lying on the street two of the three people, a man with long dark hair and a woman with short blond hair, frantically wander the street before hastily making their way towards a drive in movie theater. After passionately explaining to the ticket collector their situation he leads them to a lonely payphone.