Stolen Time

by S. A. Ichigo

  I fill the rest of my day with meetings. Lately, I’ve started to take care of organizing some events myself. I got bored with bossing people around and doing only paperwork. My company is well known, so I don’t have to put so much focus on advertising it like I used to in the past years. I can honestly say, I am a successful businesswoman, but I would like to have the same score in my private life as well.

  When I reach home, I’m worn out. It’s way past eight in the afternoon. All I want to do is take a hot bubble bath, have a glass of whiskey, and watch a movie on Netflix. I need a break. Today has been a rollercoaster. I’m not used to having so much work anymore and I must admit, it’s tiring as hell – but it’s the best distraction I can afford. Nothing keeps my mind off the past better than work.

  I kick my shoes off and head to the kitchen. My legs hurt after wearing heels all day. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and order Chinese from a nearby restaurant. Twenty minutes later, a doorbell rings and the delivery man hands me my order. I tip him and lock the door. I don’t remember the last time I cooked a meal myself. Over the years, I’ve grown more lazy and skeptical about cooking. Doing it for only one person is pointless and takes way too much time, so I prefer to save myself the trouble.

  After eating a meal, I check my calendar. Christmas party is around the corner and I’m still working on some details. It will be the biggest event I’ve organized on my own so far and frankly, I’m happy about it. That only proves that I chose a proper path for my profession. Meeting so many people in person scares me a little, but I’m looking forward to getting to know them.

  As I have no close friends since I moved to Jackson – well, no friends at all to be precise – I became curt in relationships with other people. I avoid them most of the time, but it bugs me a little. So many years have passed and I’m still locked inside my past. It feels overwhelming sometimes. The funny thing is, I can’t even speak with the therapist about it without revealing details from my past – so I can’t open up to anyone even if I want to so badly. Keeping these secrets hidden deep inside me is eating me alive. I wish I had someone to talk to. There are moments when I need it more than the air I breathe. I wonder if it would help me move on, but I can’t brace myself to trust anyone enough to share my secret.

  The rest of the week passes smoothly. Work passes so quickly I lose track of time. Today is a big day. Wedding of Sheana and Paul I’ve been planning for weeks. I arrive at the hotel that hosts the party around nine o’clock to make sure everything is ready and give this place a final touch before the bride and the groom arrive.

  There’s one more thing that makes this day even more special. It’s my birthday – the real one, not the one mentioned on my current ID. I know it’s sad to celebrate them on my own, with no one even knowing about them, but I’ve done it for so long I think I got used to it. My employees always buy flowers for my birthday, but that day is meaningless to me – it’s not real, the same as I’m not. My name is Mia Parker – according to my ID, I was born on the twentieth of March 1989 in Chicago, Illinois. If you go through my files, you will find out I graduated with a Business major from Chicago University, I am an only child and I don’t have any close relatives alive – including parents that died in a car accident when I was twenty-six. What an irony you may say? Well, at least it is a good cover; nobody asks questions about my private life.

  The wedding goes smoothly, the bride and groom exchange their vows and I cry a little. These moments always make me sad and happy at the same time. It was my dream to say ‘I promise to love you always and forever’ and put the ring on the finger of my forever guy – yet I’ve lost it all.

  The first dance is spectacular. They swing like their bodies are one. It’s a passionate moment. Guests applaud and Paul kisses his beautiful bride. It’s one of those – ‘if the world ends now’ – type of kiss.

  With the blink of an eye, the sun sets and it’s my call to leave the party, as there is nothing more I can monitor. I give my best wishes to newlyweds and head to my car, but for the first time in almost six years I don’t want to go home. I need a change of scenery at least for one evening. It’s my thirtieth birthday and I want to celebrate.

  I have at least an hour and a half of drive to Jackson from Memphis, so I grab a cup of coffee at the gas station and drive off. I'm tired, but I don’t want to go back home yet. I want to go to the bar, order a whiskey and something to eat. I want to turn my brain off for a moment, although I know it’s nearly impossible. Even alcohol can’t keep my demons away from me.

  It’s dark outside when I reach Jackson. I take the first turn to the nearest pub I find on the map. It’s a shame it’s on the other side of the city from where I live, but in my area, there are no bars. I park my car on the driveway. The building looks solid, freshly renovated. The sign on the rooftop says “Bullet Rose”. I only hope it’s not some kind of dive – the last thing I need is a bunch of assholes drooling at my sight.

  I check my appearance in the back mirror. Shades underneath my eyes show off again. I take the corrector out of my purse and apply some on the dark circles on my face. “You look good,” I say to myself. “Go out there and have some fun.”

  I step out of the car, pull my grey bodycon dress a bit lower to cover my thighs and throw a leather jacket over my bare shoulders. I lock my vehicle and move to the entrance of the building. Through the windows, I can see that the place is already overcrowded. It’s so loud inside I hesitate for a moment. It’s a game night, so probably half of the people are already drunk. I’m not used to being around strangers anymore, and it scares me to walk there on my own, but there’s no one I can call and I really need a drink. I take a deep breath and press the handle before I change my mind.

  Chapter Four

  Mia

  Past

  The interrogation room is empty when I step inside. It’s scary and unpleasant at first sight. Too bright and too small – well, claustrophobic. White walls, metal table, and chairs, bright lights on the ceiling. It smells like a mixture of cigarette smoke and disinfectant liquid. I take a seat and wait.

  A couple of minutes pass by before the police officer comes in followed by a man in a black suit. I frown and look at both of them as they sit across from me. I wait patiently, tapping my fingers on top of the table. I do my best not to fall apart completely. Tears stopped rolling down my cheeks hours ago, but the hollowness inside my heart is growing with every passing minute.

  “Miss Eden Wood,” a police officer says my name softly, trying to be as delicate as he can manage.

  “I’m officer Garret Brooks and this is ...” he gestures at the man in the suit.

  “Special Agent James Miller, FBI.” He says offering his hand. I shake it briefly.

  I sigh, as if all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. Keep it calm, Eden. Don’t fall apart in front of them. It takes all the strength I have to keep a poker face. I just stare at them blindly, barely holding on – feeling like with every passing minute I lose ground from beneath my feet.

  “I know it’s hard for you, Miss Wood,” Agent Miller starts. “And as much as I hate to do it, I need to ask you to answer some questions for me. I need you to tell me, what happened.” He pauses and looks me deep in the eyes. “I am aware you’ve been through hell within the last twenty-four hours and you probably want to forget about...”

  “It’s okay.” I cut him shortly surprised by the sound of my voice. “I just want to get this over with.”

  He looks surprised but says nothing. He studies me for a few moments and then turns to officer Brooks. That is where it hits me. FBI is involved with the case; this can’t be any good. Something tells me, there is more going on in here than I’ve suspected.

  “Are you ready to testify, Miss Wood?” officer Brooks asks, handing me a glass of water.

  “Yes,” I respond quietly.

  “Can you tell us what happened? Give us as many details as possible,” says Agent Miller.

  “I came back
home for Easter, as promised. We’ve had dinner at my parents house, laughed like the old times, talked about my upcoming wedding with Matthew Richmond. Everything was so normal until my father got a phone call. A few moments later he rushed me inside his office and told me to lock the door and monitor CCTV until he tells me otherwise. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I did as he asked me – and that was the last time I saw him and mom alive.” I explain to the police officer.

  My hands are shaking, tears falling down my cheeks. I struggle to keep my composure. I can’t be calm when just a few hours earlier my whole life collapsed like a domino. My eyes are swollen from tears, mouth dry from screaming and heart broken into tiny pieces. My mind doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that my parents are dead. It feels surreal. I keep hoping that it’s just a bad dream – that I will wake up and they would be at home as always. But the emptiness in my heart reminds me they’re gone – for good.

  I sob. The police officer offers me a hanky. He doesn’t push me to go through with the testimony. I guess he’s been here before; he dealt with death so many times it doesn’t bug him anymore or he’s just good with hiding his emotions. I’m shaking even though it’s hot inside the interrogation room. I try to understand what had happened, but there is no rational explanation. Nothing makes sense.

  After a few minutes, I calm down a little and continue my testimony.

  “After I locked the door, everything went down the hill.” I say, my voice cracking. “A young man entered the house a few moments after I settled on the chair in front of the computer and opened up CCTV footage. Judging by the way he moved around the place, I could easily tell, he must have been there before. He took a glass from the cupboard, poured himself whiskey from the fridge, and sat across my parents. He was a tall, tanned, black-haired guy in his late twenties. He was wearing black gloves. From the moment he entered the kitchen, my mom’s face went pale. She lowered herself on the chair and took a sip of water.” I take a deep breath.

  Officer Brooks hands me another glass of water.

  “Minutes passed. Their conversation seemed tense. They were gesturing nervously at one another. I didn’t hear what they’ve talked about, but it wasn’t anything pleasant. They were arguing, badly. My father stepped closer to the man and grabbed him by the collar. And then within the blink of an eye, the man drew his gun and pointed it at my father’s direction. He shouted something, waving a gun at my father’s head. My mom screamed. I saw her trying to calm the situation, but she only got him madder. He pointed the gun at her instead.”

  Images start flashing in my head again. It’s so painful I have no words to describe it. I recall my mother’s face when a man pointed a gun at her. I let out a loud sob. Tears roll down my face like a waterfall.

  “She knew he would kill them. I think they both knew things may go nasty when my father told me to hide.” And I was stupid to let him push me around like a two-year-old. Maybe if I didn’t listen and refused to hide, they would both be alive. Or you would be dead – says a little voice in my head. “She just looked him deep in the eyes and said something. His face turned all shades of red and without hesitation, he shot her.” I whisper those last words, trying to shake the image of my mother’s body sliding down the floor, blood gushing from her chest. Her eyes deadlocked on my father.

  I lose my breath. Both men stare at me but say nothing. I see compassion in their eyes and it makes me cry even louder. I will never forget my mother’s expression the moment she died. I could hear my father’s scream – I will remember that sound till the day I die.

  I blow my nose.

  Agent Miller holds my gaze for a moment. His expression doesn’t show any emotions. He’s just sitting there, his face is ice cold and locked on me. He only nods his understanding and waits for me to calm down.

  So much for not falling apart, I guess.

  “I...” I try to speak but words get stuck in my throat.

  “It’s okay. Take your time.” Officer Brooks whispers.

  I lift my gaze and meet his. I can see compassion in his eyes, he tries his best to keep it as easy for me as possible – even though we both know, there is no such thing as easy when it comes to dealing with death. Death of your closest ones is the most heart-ripping experience – and the worst thing is, you can’t prepare yourself for such loss. No matter if you would know when or how will they die – death leaves the pain nobody can heal. The pain that breaks you – irreversibly. When you lose them, nothing will ever be the same again.

  I take a breath and clear my throat.

  “The rest happened in a split of a second.” I mumble. “My father screamed and rose to his feet, but before he made a step towards that man, he shot him. My father collapsed on the floor and put a hand to his wound. Within the moment shirt on his belly became red. He opened his mouth and said something.” My voice cracks again. “Then he died. And his killer stormed out of the house seconds after.”

  Then, I’ve said it.

  Now it’s time to embrace it.

  “You’ve mentioned CCTV footage.” Agent Miller sends me a questioning look.

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “A year and a half ago someone broke into my parents house. They stole a few file cases my father has been working on. He almost lost the right to practice afterward. It was a hard time for us. With my father’s name going all over the news after this incident and bad press... my dad became a little paranoid. He’s had a breakdown. He’s kept saying someone is trying to get him out of the business, that he must have pissed some wealthy guy.” I say. “A few weeks after he got himself CCTV footage outside of the house. He installed some hidden cameras inside the living room, kitchen, his office, and corridor as well.”

  “Well, that sounds interesting.” Agent Miller snorts. “Did you hand over the recordings from CCTV?” he asks, his voice hollow.

  I know FBI agents are being trained not to show their emotions, but this guy is a total asshole. Well, some might call him a professional, but I don’t feel it that way. He is a heartless douche. I stare at him, anger mixed with sadness and I shrug.

  “I have no access to these files. Yes, I saw the live footage that night, but that is as far as my knowledge goes. You need to contact the supplier to get files yourself. He may give you a master key or something.” I snap.

  “Believe it or not, Miss Wood. I am not your enemy here.” Agent Miller says harshly. “These files will help us catch the killer. So be nice and cooperate.”

  Harsh. What an asshole.

  “I am cooperating.” I grit my teeth. “But I won’t pretend I have the information you ask of me. For the past five years, I’ve been home only a handful of times. A lot has happened in the meantime.”

  “May I be honest with you?” he asks suddenly.

  I nod.

  “Whoever killed your parents, wasn’t an amateur. That means they either got under someone’s skin or threatened the wrong people. I’ve seen cases like this one before. Sometimes people are not who they may occur to be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him.

  “It means that maybe your parents were not the same people you remembered.”

  And with that, he stands up and walks out of the room.

  I stay in a hotel. I can’t brace myself to go back to my parents house. It’s too soon. I can’t shake up from what had happened. A week’s passed, I haven’t slept in days. Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces.

  I don’t feel safe anymore.

  Matt is there for me, but even with his support, I barely hold on. Tomorrow’s my parents funeral. I am grateful to Matt’s family for helping me out with formalities and organizing everything on my behalf. I don’t know what I would do without them.

  Most nights I stay out crying. Most days I walk like a ghost. Matt is supporting me as much as possible, but it’s not enough. I got to the point when seeing him breaks my heart. I need him, but at the same time, I want to be left alone. He’s never seen me like this –
and I can tell it’s hard for him too.

  Earlier this morning, I received a phone call from officer Brooks. They finally got access to CCTV files. Turns out my father hired the company only for outdoor cameras; the ones placed around the house installed a different person, well-hidden and encrypted. Why would you do this, Dad? What were you afraid of? A little voice inside my head asks. I try to find an explanation, but nothing makes sense. Why them? I keep asking myself. I know everyone who loses someone asks this question, but nothing here makes sense. Maybe Agent Miller was right, saying my parents had their secrets. The hell with that, everyone has secrets – they were no different. Their job is based on a confidentiality clause. And yet, my heart tells me there’s more – I am missing some important pieces.

  I’m on my way out when my phone rings. It’s officer Brooks again.

  “Eden Wood, how can I help?” I pick up the call.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Wood.” He greets me. “We found him.” I freeze. “We’re running his profile through facial recognition at the moment to confirm his identity. But he is well known in our circles.” he explains.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask surprised.

  “His name is Juan Martinez. He has connections with a local drug cartel.”

  My face drops. A drug dealer? What the hell would a drug dealer have in common with my parents? I open my mouth and try to speak, but no words come out.

  “We’re trying to establish his location. If everything goes as planned we will have him arrested by the end of the day,” he informs me. “Once we do, I will need you to come to the police station.”

  “What for?”

  “You need to confirm it’s him.”