A strong wind sends stiff lifeless leaves into the rooftops of worn out houses. Even with the persistent sun sitting high in the sky the numbing chill fills the air and seeps into houses. Even the nearby church, a place of comfort for some, can’t help but feel the chill in the air.
“Hi, my name is Landon Marshall. I’m an alcoholic. I quit drinking three years ago and today marks two years clean.”
The room breaks into an overwhelming applause. Landon, a few other alcoholics and Camille sit in foldable chairs. The chairs are arranged in a semi circle in the center of the homely church. It had been a week since the night Searna was shot. Camille intended to see if the old pharmacy was still around, but convinced herself an A.A, meeting would be better for her.
“My boss died last week and I thought I’d want to drink but I didn’t.”
Camille’s eyes shift to the ground as she listens to Landon. If I had just done what Serana wanted…if I didn't rush towards that guy…She would still be alive.
Landon continues sharing but Camille tunes him out. After twenty minutes the meeting ends sending most outside to face the world. By the time Camille notices the few people left, they are already shifting chairs around and warming up coffee, in preparation of another meeting. Camille knows she should stay here, maybe even share this time but she’s torn. The old pharmacy is just down the street…
***
The frigid fall wind meets Camille as she makes her way along the street. She takes a left then a right and quickly meets the pharmacy. Posters and signs cover the door but only one grabs Camille’s attention: A boy dressed in a well loved crossbone t-shirt lays on the center of the page. His curly dark hair nearly covers the soft blue eyes beneath. Under the photo lies a name. “Amias Blake” under the name reads “Last seen September 17th, 1983.” The redhead stares at the date,That was last month by now he is most likely….that doesn't matter he deserves justice.
Stopping only briefly, her eyes stick to the paper as the rest of her body moves forward. Limping inside she makes her way to the front desk and stares at the young woman at the counter.
“Camille? I didn’t know you were back in Vale.”
“Well I’m back, are you working here ? I thought you wanted to be a nurse.”
“I did, still do.”
“Then why are you working in a corner store?”
“After six years you’re still Camille, always getting involved in other people’s lives and neglecting your own.” The woman responds, her short brown hair framing her face.
“I’m not neglecting my life.”
“Since you still have that limp I’d say you are.” Joise retorks: a sly smile works its way onto her face.
“Look Josie, I didn’t come here to talk. I came to buy some benzo” Camille slips a crinkled twenty dollar bill onto the table.
“I’m not selling them to you. Come back with a doctor's note and then we can talk.”
“Whatever” limping slowly away from the counter Camille spots a case of long glass bottles and makes her way over to them. She grasps a beer bottle in hand. The creeping cold seeps through her skin glazing over the heat in her chest. The hum of a space heater fills the redheads' ears changing into the loud drone of rain.
***
The pitter patter of rain grows louder inside the girl's head and slowly her surroundings warp until Camille sits in the passenger seat of a red truck. Her legs excitedly kicking back and forth in her seat with the pace of a runner. The man with light brown hair and hazel eyes sits in the driver's seat and with a gentle and smooth motion turns a large knob to the right making the loud song playing on the radio grow louder. Camille rolls her eyes as her father begins singing with the song.
"Come on sweety, it’s your fourteenth birthday, don't be a grump and besides I heard this rain is supposed to stop soon.”
Camille stares blankly at him waiting for him to continue.
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“...So we can still look around Vale's art festival. I heard Josie Marshall is going." He gives a small smirk waiting to see her reaction to it.
Camille's face practically glows. "Really!" Camille’s excitement and nervousness is almost overwhelming as her face descends into a deep pink blush. She embaristly looks to the floor where her eyes catch a tall bottle filled with a dark amber liquid rolling across the floor.
"I knew it, you do like her. Don't you Cammie.” He gives her a playful nudge on the shoulder.
Camille makes a show of rolling her eyes but soon becomes serious “Dad...can I ask you something?”
“Of course sweetheart. What do you want to know?”
“Do you drink because of mom?”
“Well, it’s a complicated thing. But yes, I guess that could be one of the reasons. Why do you want to know? You haven't started to think about drinking now, have you?” His face turns to meet hers with a goofy grin.
“No, drinking is gross, I was just wondering how her...leaving, affected you. I know it must've felt terrible with her...well taking Kai and all.”
“It did hurt Camille, it always hurts to lose someone you love.” A tear dances wildly in his eye. His expression stays as his gaze returns forward.
“It’s something I hope you never have to understand. But forget about Kai and your mom. Today is about you and possibly even a certain Marshall.” his expression transforms into the cheerful smile Camille has always known.
The red truck drives onto a bridge and stops with the rest of the congested cars. The rain's pitter patters grows louder as the other cars sit calmly but the calm is interrupted by a long tractor trailer. It slams into the back of the red truck, forcing the truck into the cement wall attached to the side of the bridge.
***
Camille’s surroundings snap back and with a soft sigh she sets the bottle back. Her mind keeps the painful memory close making her want to do whatever she can to stop it. She heads past the counter where Joise busily fills a bottle with long white pills.
Before she can return to the icy air of the outdoors. The pale young man, waiting patiently at the counter for his container of pills, turns to her. The man stares at her ,his eyes as haunting as a blue moon. He breaks the stare glancing at the tan folder tucked safely in the crevice of his arm.
“Sorry to disturb you ma’am but are you Ms. Camille Relicta?”
Camille takes one look at the folder and scampers for something to say.
“Nope, but if you see her let me know. kid owes me seven bucks.” A hollowing knot tightens in her stomach like a python wrapping around its prey. Why is he talking so formally and why is he looking for me? Is he a cop or something? Do they think I have something to do with Serana’s death? I get the gun was near me but they test for fingerprints and stuff, and they have my fingerprint from my…less than favorable time I spent there.
“Hmm, well you certainly look like her?” A blank stare sticks to his face. “I've got it! It says in the file she has a scar on her left arm. I could use that to identify you as Ms. Relicta or prove the opposite.”
What is this guy's deal? My scar is on the back of my hip. Does he want me to say that and slip up? Is that what he is doing just trying to get me to slip up? But if that’s the case then he already knows it’s me so why go through all the needless effort?
“I don’t need to prove my identity to you and besides a driver license can do that.” While her cold tone wasn't intended she welcomed it.
“Look, I know it is you Ms. Relicta. My name is Detective Vincent Valor. I have been instructed to contact you for questioning regarding the death of Ms Blake.” He closes the file and tucks it safely back into the crevice of his arm. His arms connect infront of him completing his lifeless stance.
“Whatever, when should I come by the station, Mr. Valor?”
“It’s Detective Valor and the station is ready for you now. If now doesn’t work for you then early tomorrow would also be satisfactory.”
“Damn, so they still send the newbie. Using all those intricate sentences to make you sound professional. How long have you been on the force? two-three months?” A devilish grin forms on Camille’s face as it seeks to overtake it.
“I’ve been serving Vale P.D for two and a half months this Monday. But, I’m getting the distinct feeling you don’t like Vale P.D.”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“ What is not to like about them? They protect and serve the community, your community!”
“Yes they do, but it is only the southside of town. A kid goes missing on the northside and suddenly it is out of their jurisdiction, they're understaffed or underpaid. Then someone is murdered on the southside of town and suddenly they have manpower and time to look into it.”
“Now that’s just simply not true. We do-”
“ Oh just drop it! Let’s just head for the station and get this over with.”
“Fine by me.” The man folds his arms ,which blush against his snow colored hair, clearly annoyed. Hisformer robotic stance is now nowhere to be seen.
Camille makes her way to the door with Vincent following; a flurry of pain stops Camille in her tracks and a drip of blood falls from her nose to her hand. As her hand shakes, a splintering pain stabs in her head. Taking a deep breath she continues paying little attention to it. As she limps forward Vincent shoots a confused glance but follows her into the chilling breeze knowing, with some people, it’s better not to ask.