by Kate Gable
It's her decision to be with whomever she wants.
I keep having to remind myself of this fact.
It's hard to be supportive when you feel like your friend is making a mistake, but I don't know what else to do.
When we get to the office, the receptionist has Sydney fill out a lot of paperwork and then tells her that the doctor's running late so we can step out to get some coffee if we want.
“It will be at least twenty, maybe thirty more minutes,” she informs us.
She takes Sydney’s number and we head downstairs to the Starbucks. She orders a latte and I get a Darjeeling hot tea.
We sit on one of the comfy plush velvet chairs and we talk about everything and anything.
We catch up like we haven't in a while and it feels really good to talk to a friend. She asks me more about Thomas and how I feel.
"I just can't believe that he thought that he could just charm his way back in," I say. "He didn't even really apologize for putting his hands on me. He didn't even thank me for covering it up. I feel like such a fool.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sydney shakes her head.
“I wonder if he did that to Marissa. I wonder when he will do it to some future girlfriend and how she will feel, knowing that he did it to me. I just wish someone had warned me about him. Then I would have written him off a long time ago. What a waste of all my time."
Sydney nods, swirling the sugar using the wooden stick.
"I'm really happy for you. I mean, I know this was a really tough situation, but you handled it well. I know that you are kind of in a weird head space and I'm glad that you didn't get back together with him. He's not a good guy," she says, making the understatement of the century.
"I sometimes think back to how happy we were. I really thought that he got me. We laughed. We had the same sense of humor. I mean, he liked football a lot and a lot of other sports, but in general it felt like we were connected."
"Then he ended up being a cheater and worse."
"I just wish that I could know the truth. For a long time, I just dated people and didn't take anything seriously. That was fine but part of that is probably because of what happened to my dad." I mention him, but I don't go into any of the details now because Sydney already knows a lot.
"That's probably why you stayed away from long-term relationships. You didn't want to get hurt. You didn't want to be in the same situation that your mom was in."
"I just saw her compromising so much for love. She was always the one who was going the extra mile, forgiving him, taking him back, trying to make things right, and I was always angry with her. I always felt like she was covering for him in some way. I let it slip because, well, he was the only dad I had. So, when I grew up, I just thought that I don't want to be a woman like that, so maybe I'll just be a different type of woman, someone who didn't need a man."
"You don't."
"No, but it's nice having someone to talk to. It's nice to be with someone. Plus, I’m getting to a point in my life where I feel like I can't form an actual relationship with someone because of all these issues." I take a sip of my tea. "I really don't want to talk about all of this and I'm really sorry for ruining your appointment with all of this drama."
"No, not at all. First of all, I like drama," she says, "especially when it's not mine."
I smile out of the corner of my lips.
"To be serious, it's a nice reprieve. I like having something else to think about besides my own problems."
My phone rings and I look down on the screen to see that it's Luke. I don't want to take it, but Sydney leans over and insists.
"What if there's a development in the case? You have to take it. I'll be right here."
I nod and answer reluctantly.
It's not that I don't want to talk to him and it's not that I don't want to hear about developments, it's just that I'm afraid.
I'm afraid that he will say that they found her and that she's no longer alive. It seems like for as long as she's missing, there's still hope, but once there's a body, that's it. There can only be justice or maybe vengeance, but that's it.
Luke's voice is monotone and professional.
He quickly gets to the point because he knows me well enough and he has been doing his job long enough to know that people in my position tend to hold their breath, waiting for an update.
"There isn't anything new," he says almost immediately. "No developments, no additional leads."
"What does that mean?" I ask, my mouth becoming like cotton.
"You know what it means," he says quietly,
I swallow hard but because my mouth is so dry, I cough. The case is going cold.
This was the first time that I have ever allowed myself to think this way. When a case goes cold, it means resources dry up. It means attention gets diverted to other cases and hope starts to dwindle.
It doesn't mean that anything is impossible and that you can't find out what happened, but it's not so much of an active investigation and other things take priority.
Obviously, it's not as bad as finding a body, but then again, after enough time, you kind of assume that there should be a body and you almost want to find one to put everything to bed.
"How are you?" Luke asks, turning on FaceTime.
He leans the camera close to his face and I can see the twinkle in his eyes.
I pull mine away, aware of the oppressive fluorescent light that makes me look washed out and like I have big dark circles under my eyes.
"I have to come up there and canvas. I have to ask more people more questions."
"The deputy has done that."
"I know, but you know how it is, sometimes when the victim's family member does it or sometimes right after the crime happens, people don't want to come forward. Later on, they have some doubts."
"They do. You can do that," Luke says, "but it's going to be very tedious work."
"Are you saying that I shouldn't do it because it's boring?" I snap at him.
I don't mean it, but I'm suddenly taking everything he says personally.
"No, not at all. I think it's a good idea. I'm just saying that I get the sense from the department, from my boss that they don't know what's going to happen. Do you know what that means?"
"What?" I whisper.
Our eyes meet.
He clenches his jaw and relaxes. He licks his lips and slowly opens his mouth.
"It means that the first opportunity there's another case somewhere else that's more pressing, that's more able to be solved, they're going to send me there."
I nod.
I understand that this is how his job works.
Frankly, this is how my job works.
If we don't find out what happened to Nick Millian soon, there's going to be another murder, more people to interrogate, and my attention will be diverted to that.
I'll still interview and we'll still conduct the DNA analysis and whatever evidence can be gathered from the body, but if the murder isn't solved relatively quickly, it's put aside and other cases, more solvable ones, take precedence.
Television shows, books, and movies will have you believe that detectives work on all cases until they're solved. The truth is that there are currently about 250,000 unsolved murders in the United States and the number increases by about 6,000 each year.
The Department of Justice calls this a crisis of cold cases. The FBI estimates that investigators are only able to close about 62% of murder cases and 35% of sexual assaults in 2017.
The number of unsolved violent crimes, which eventually become known as cold cases, increases year after year.
I have a number of them in files on the computer on my desk, but new files come along so new people have to be interviewed and new crimes have to be solved. The thing is that you have to do it very quickly because witnesses disappear or forget and evidence, if there is any, is never processed and often lost.
That’s right, I said what I said. DNA evidence isn't as common as you
think. It's not a magic bullet and there are a lot more cases like my sister’s where there’s simply no forensic evidence at all.
I tell Luke that I'm going to be back to Big Bear soon and I'll let him know when.
"I'd like to have dinner or lunch, if you're available,” I add.
"Yeah, I'd like that, too," he says with a smile. "I've missed you."
I nod. I should tell him that I missed him, too, because it's the truth, but the words are hard for me to get out.
"Okay. I'll be in touch." I nod and hang up.
When I get back to the Starbucks, I see Sydney sitting on Patrick's lap, dressed in a suit jacket and a button-down shirt.
He holds his hand on her stomach, like a proud expectant dad.
I'm shocked to see him, but I put on my best poker face, plastering a smile on my face, and giving him a warm hug.
"Congratulations," I say. "Thanks for coming out here."
Patrick runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit of his, either that or he just wants to bring attention to just how gorgeous it is.
"I actually have somewhere to go, so now that you're here, I'll be on my way."
"No, don't go." Sydney grabs my hand, but I pull away.
"The two of you should share this time together,” I whisper, giving her a squeeze of the hand and kissing her on the cheek.
When I watch her shoulder disappear in his embrace, I'm genuinely happy for them and I hope that it all works out.
26
The following morning, I oversleep.
I feel myself getting sick. I'm congested, my throat hurts, and my lips feel dry. I drink some water and wash my face, but I can't move as quickly as I want to.
Everything is somewhat in slow motion and my head spins when I try to speed up. I'm tempted to call in sick, but I have an interview to get to that can't be rescheduled.
I don't have time for a shower, so I throw on some dry shampoo, brush it out to get rid of the white spots, and put on a little bit of makeup to try to hide my dark circles under my eyes.
Three Advil isn't enough to take the headache and make it go away, but it takes the edge off a little bit.
When I get to the precinct, I realize that Thomas has already started the interview without me.
I'm annoyed. This isn't procedure.
I stop by the video conferencing room where deputies and Captain Medvil are watching everything unfold on an enormous screen. The captain doesn't explicitly mention my tardiness, but the sour expression on his face conveys that fact nevertheless.
Then he points to the screen and I watch for a few minutes while Thomas questions Danny, this time in a much more harsh and less hospitable way.
"You see what happens when you don't show up on time," Captain Medvil says, his voice tinged with disappointment.
"I'm sorry. I'm getting sick and I didn’t get much sleep."
"Not my problem." Medvil swivels his chair toward the screen and points to Thomas leaning over Danny. "Did you two discuss him playing bad cop this whole time?"
"No, not at all."
He's been practically yelling at him and from the looks on Danny's face, he's not going to put up with it much longer.
"Let me go in and talk to him."
Medvil hesitates for a second. I don't know why, the plan was for us to talk to him at the same time, so what's different?
"Put the earpiece in," he says. “Thomas doesn't have one, so we can't calm him down."
Now, it's my turn to hesitate.
"Do it and you better get in there fast. That kid looks like he's going to crack and ask for a lawyer."
A deputy hands me a small waxy piece to go into my ear. It's on Bluetooth and I drop my hair down to cover it. They've only been a mainstay in the department for the last few years and I can't say that I'm completely comfortable with wearing one.
It's one thing to listen to music or a podcast when you're going on with your life like doing grocery shopping or having some coffee, but it's a whole other thing to have the captain bark orders at you while you're trying to talk to someone in an authoritative way and not have them notice that you're actually taking orders from someone else.
"You have to quit lying to me!" Thomas yells at Danny.
"I'm not. I already told you everything. I don't know anything about Nick or Janine."
"That's not true. You know it. I know it. Eve knows it."
"Eve doesn't know anything!” Danny yells.
Danny stands up and starts to gather his things. It's almost too late. I rush around to the door to that room where they're in when I hear a loud thrust. Thomas has put his hand through the drywall.
I open the door just as he pulls it out with an expression of shock and awe on his face. His eyes look like they're practically bugging out of his skull. His skin is white, devoid of all blood, and yet there's still anger there, more than before.
Thomas looks down at his bleeding hand and he practically crumbles to the floor. Suddenly, I’m taken back to that moment when he did that to me, only there was no drywall.
He punched me really hard just like that. The anger started rising and rising within him and then he couldn't make it stop.
I can say that it was someone else doing it. I can say that some sort of darkness took him over, but I don't know if that would be true.
This is Thomas.
This is a part of him.
When he did that to me, we were just having an argument. I didn't call him any names and I can't even remember what we were talking about. Then suddenly, he just kept getting more and more pissed off when I refused to agree. That's when the violence exploded out of him.
I turn toward Danny and I'm at a loss for words. I look back at Thomas who walks out of the door and slams it behind him.
He's off the case and he will be lucky if Danny doesn't press charges or ask for an attorney right here and right now.
I lick my lips and grab onto the Manila folder in front of me, tighter to try to calm down my breathing.
Where do I take this now?
Do I keep going or do I stop?
I'm afraid that if I let him go now, he'll have some time to think about this and he'll get angry at Thomas.
Maybe he’ll come back here with an attorney and take his badge. Perhaps he deserves that. No, I know that he does, but he's also a good cop.
"What are you doing just standing there?" Captain Medvil shouts into my ear, shutting down my stream of consciousness. "Talk to him, comfort him, and show him that you're nothing like Thomas."
"I'm really sorry about that," I say in a quiet, reserved way.
"Is that who you have to work with all the time?"
"Luckily not all the time," I say, "but yeah, he works in the department."
"God, I'm sorry. He's a nutcase. I mean, he punched the wall."
I look him up and down. Combat boots, black t-shirt. A head that's been shaved since the last time I saw him with an attractive undercut.
Tattoos up and down his arms and a metal dog collar around his neck. If he's trying to look scary to an everyday person, then he is succeeding and yet, he's the one that looks terrified of Thomas.
The irony is not lost on me.
"I think I want to see an attorney," Danny says after I ask him to sit down.
"Make him reconsider," Captain Medvil whispers into my ear.
"Can I just talk to you about a few things? I'm really sorry about what he just did, but I just wanted to clear up a few things and then this'll be over."
That seems to put him at ease.
Still eyeing the hole in the wall, he agrees to sit down. I put him on the other side of the table so that he's facing the other camera and doesn't have to constantly look at the indentation in the drywall.
I ask him about knowing Janine.
"You told me before that you've never met her, but your girlfriend..."
"Fiancée," he corrects me.
"Your fiancée. She told me otherwise."
"
Yeah, I think she's right," Danny says with a shrug.
He leans back in his chair, sticking his leg out to relax. It's almost as if what happened only a few moments before was something that he watched in a movie.
His ability to transition between emotional states makes me a little bit uncomfortable.
"Can I ask you what your interactions with Janine have been now that you remember more?"
"Yeah, I think we met a few times at either a party that he had or I had."
"What kind of parties were these?"
"Uh, nothing really formal, just some beers, karaoke, and sometimes a game."
"What was your impression of Janine?"
"I just kind of saw her in the kitchen. I think she was fixing the keg one time. Then another time I saw her dancing. She was a pretty girl, but we never really had much of an interaction."
"Okay, got it," I say.
Looking through my notes, I feel a little bit uncomfortable sitting here in front of him with my back completely straight, dressed in a suit jacket, matching black pants, and heels.
My head starts to feel cloudy again and I can't help but sneeze. I search my bag for a tissue and luckily, find one to blow my nose.
"Sorry about that," I say, leaning away from him.
I feel flushed and hot, but I can't take off my jacket because the shirt underneath is drenched with sweat. Instead, I take a sip from my bottle of water and try to gather my thoughts.
"You know, Nick was always such a great guy," Danny says. "We had such a good time and it's just too bad that he's not around."
I nod.
"I just wonder why he would do this to her. I didn't get the sense that they were together. Maybe they were just friends, but why kill her?"
"Yeah, I don't know either. That's what we're trying to find out. Was he angry at her possibly?”
27
Danny sighs, narrowing his eyes. He runs his hands through his hair and then looks right at me again.
"Um, I don't know. He could have been. One thing I was thinking about is what if he attacked her? What if he tried to sleep with her or something and she wasn't into it and he raped her anyway?"