Chapter 27: <!DOCTYPE>
There was barbed wire on the top of the fences outside of Jen’s house. I hadn’t noticed that before. Pedestrians looked up at the high fence with awe and fear, wondering why this person would need this huge fence.
Jen stood out, even here in the rich areas. With her big blue eyes and blonde hair, she was the very image of stereotypical beauty. She was tall, but not freakishly so.
Jen’s house was brown with some wooden parts in beige. It was quite beautiful with the word “Sacrosanct” over the mailbox. Except from the barbwire, I always found the place quite homely, but in an attractive way. It didn’t feel like entering a mansion when I came into the house. Though some might consider it a mansion, I had grown up in the upper middleclass, and been invited to some real mansions in my early childhood.
She opened the inner door and went to unlock the big, vault door.
“My casa is your casa,” she said jokingly. Feeling a little more comfortable, I collapsed on her futon. She didn’t bother taking her shoes off before entering the living room.
“Now, you need to tell me what’s going on.” She had been quiet all the way here. Now she wanted me to spill the beans.
“I’m involved with Scott, romantically,” I admitted.
“What about Chris?”
“He hit me,” I said, pointing at the pale bruise. She gasped, but didn’t say anything. I took the silence as an opportunity to continue my story.
“There was a man outside Scott’s house. Scott shot him.”713Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYNeGucgfhI
“How awful,” she said, sorrow thick in her voice.
“It really was. And now they’ve taken him away for attempted murder stroke murder,” I started sobbing again.
Jen held me and asked if I wanted some tea. I politely declined and asked if I could go to bed instead.
“Just take my bed. It’s upstairs, the first door to the right.” I was tired so I just walked up the stairs. The hatch to the attic was open, but I didn’t check it out. I was too sleepy for my foolish curiosity. As soon as I hit the warm bed, I fell asleep.
My night was haunted by images of Scott shooting Chad. My nightmares were messengers of fear. They told my how much dread I felt without knowing. Every scenario ended in blood. Darren would always come and pick Scott up while Scott struggled against the man’s firm grip. I’d sit and smile with my head in Scott’s lap, and Chad would jump out on nowhere, pointing his fingers at us, and do this gun motion kids did when they played cowboys and Indians. Scott would get up on his feet and shoot him. The gunshot would ring in my ears until the next scenario started. The next would be even darker than the first. Blood was dripping from Scott’s eye sockets. I looked down only to see that my hands were covered in blood as well. Then Chad would jump out from the shadows, do the same gun motion, and fall dead on the ground as soon as Scott shot him. He never missed a shot.
I was in the middle of one of these circles of dreams when Jen shook me. I opened my eyes to see that it was morning. She had one hand on my shoulder and a phone in the other.
“Oni. Are you awake?” Jen asked softly, brushing some hair out of my face.
“Yeah, just give me a second.” I yawned and slowly sat up.
“What’s up?”
“Derrick Bashor called. According to him a woman named Chrissie had come to their door. She told him Scott’s attorney wanted to talk to you.” Immediately I was up on my feet, getting dressed and getting tangles out of my hair, trying my best to brush it.
“I can drive you there, so you don’t have to hail a cab,” Jen said, exiting the room to get ready for the drive. I finished brushing my hair, and Jen came in with a spare toothbrush and gave me some toothpaste.
I did what I had to do and got into the car.
When we arrived at the station, it was almost empty. Darren and Chrissie were going through Scott’s things in his cubicle. I gritted my teeth but said nothing. Jen was waiting in the parking lot. She didn’t seem to mind, even when I told her I would be there for quite a while.
“Take your time, I’ll wait,” she had said before I closed the car-door.
I came to the isolation cells, and a man in a suit greeted me.
“I’m Mr. Kramer, Scott’s attorney.” He didn’t look like a sympathetic man. His look was a grim one, and his combover style was typical for old men who thought they were better than they were. Mr. Kramer led me to a private room. I was a little hesitant to go into a secluded room with him. He looked like the kind of person who would bring girls to private booths and then go on to fondle and molest them. I didn’t want to judge the book by its cover, but with the smile he sent me, it was hard not to.
But at the same time, I didn’t think he would. There was nothing flirtatious about him, nothing quirky or even remotely interesting. I found that the wrongdoers were usually fascinating people. Ubel, Oxycotton slash Chrissie, Basty… they were all tremendously interesting. I wanted to know more about them at the same time as I didn’t. There was something forbidding about this man, but not in that fascinating way. Just in an “I don’t actually want to be here, talking to you”-way.
We sat down and he proceeded to stare at me for one whole minute. His grey eyes pierced though my skin. I felt uncomfortable because it felt like he could see all my secrets and everything under my skin. Then he cleared his throat and started talking.
“Does Mr. Winchester have any history of violent behaviour?” He was straight to business, I thought.
“I haven’t know him for very long, but he had never showed any interest in harming me or anyone else. Isn’t that more of a police investigator type question?” He ignored my question and nodded.
“I thought you had known him since primary school?”
“Yes, I knew him, but he was more of Emily A’idah’s friend than mine.”
“You are romantically and sexually involved with Mr. Winchester, right?”
“Not sexually,” I quickly said. “Only romantically.”
He nodded and licked his lips. I looked at the clock. The hands moved slower than usual.
“How long have you been involved for?”
“A week.”
“Hmm. Interesting,” he said. “You know Mr. Winchester had a rocky past.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said though my teeth.
“If they don’t drop the charges, it might be hard to keep him out of jail,” Kramer admitted.
“Has he confessed?”
“Yes, he has been interrogated and he confessed to the attempted murder of Chad Moreno. Though, he said it was in self-defence.”713Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr1VVXk2dax
“Will they drop the charges?”
“Most likely. But it might take some time. Chances are the case will be dismissed after the weekend. There are strong indications that there was a fight. They found Chad’s skin under Scott’s fingernails. According to the interrogation and the evidence at the scene, Scott’s story is true.”
“Good,” I exhaled, feeling a lot brighter.
I got out of the room and took some seeps of air. Mr. Kramer disappeared into the cell where I guessed Scott was. I needed a cigarette, realising I only had two left. I decided to save them for later. Maybe for celebration when Scott got out.
I didn’t see anyone in the station. It was deserted. I couldn’t even see Chrissie anywhere. I saw the coffee machine and strode to it. I filled a paper cup with coffee and sat down in Scott’s cubicle. The cup was too hot to hold, so I put it down on the table. His drawers were open. I opened it some more and took a look inside. He had file upon file of press cut-outs and reports. He had hundreds of handwritten pages with information about John Bashor, the Bashor residence, and the incident. His handwriting was beautifully messy. I started reading the pages, but there was no new information there. I saw that some of the pages were taken out, as Scott has marked each page with a number. It started with two, then three, five and then seven. I shook my head and put the files back in the drawer. The drawer slammed shut.
I walked up to the entrance. Suddenly someone grabbed me and dragged me into a cubicle. I looked up to see Chrissie and Darren standing over me. I was about to piss myself, expecting Ubel to come in any second. He didn’t. Instead they kept looking at me.
“Oxy,” I said in the deepest voice I could muster, trying to sound intimidating. She only sent me a sad smile.
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