LAYLA
May 16th 2018
I inhale deeply as I open the police station's door and approach the front desk with shaking limbs and a beating heart.
"Hello," I say quietly as my voice comes out in a hushed tone. "Excuse me," I remark a bit too loudly, and the cop behind the computer raises his eyes to mine with a dissatisfied grimace.
He moans as he strains to exit his seat, taking off his spectacles, and as he approaches me, he picks up his paper cup and takes a big gulp from it.
"Well?" He replies, squeezing the paper cup in his palm and peering at me with his stormy grey eyes.
"Very intimidating," I remark sarcastically. "May I speak with the head of the homicide department?" I request emphatically.
The officer replaces his spectacles on his face as he moves the mouse across the computer screen, his face carved with a deep scowl.
"That is Detective Evie; she has stepped out for a moment, but if you wish to-"
"I'm going to sit and wait for her; I've got nothing but time on my hands at the moment," I mumble, looking around the room and pick the cheap-looking chair against the wall in the corner.
"Please yourself, princess."
I roll my eyes, unfazed by his snarky attitude and settle onto the chair.
I position the bag containing Chad's money between my feet, ensuring that the straps are wrapped around my hands. I considered returning it to Chad personally but decided against it because I cannot bear the thought of returning to the place to which I so willingly sacrificed my body.
A location where I also put an end to the brother of my late husband, as well as my own independence. To me, serving time in prison would be like taking a vacation, with no more responsibilities such as paying rent, utility bills, the outrageous credit cards I've accrued, or even just adulting in general.
I rise from my chair, rub my aching ass, and begin pacing the room. I've been waiting for three or four hours, and usually, when someone says they're heading out, they return within an hour.
My patience is wearing thin, as is my resolve to remain here and confess my sins when I could be out in the big bad world drowning my sorrows for good. Along with a thick, juicy burger and loaded fries.
'Gods yes!!' My inner Goddess howls, enticing me to live another day out in the real world.
I sigh, stomping my foot as I nibble on my nail; the burger is tempting; the thought of the juices running from the burger pattie makes me drool...
"Layla Slater?"
When a feminine voice announces my name, I stop pacing and raise my head in the direction the voice came from, nervously biting my nails.
"I was informed that you wanted to speak with me?"
"Yes. Are you the head of the homicide unit?"
"I am," she replied, her hands in her pockets and leaning against the door.
"I've come to make a statement about Jimmy Slater." Over my shoulder, I sling the backpack.
"I suppose you'd better make your way through then." She states as she pushes the door open and motions for me to follow.
I follow her through the station's back, passing several doors before she pushes one back and holds it open for me to enter first. In the room's centre is a large steel table with two chairs on either side and a lamp suspended in the middle of the table.
The room appears uninviting, and the atmosphere is filled with draughts of cold air; I shiver and feel as if someone has just walked over my grave.
I set the bag on the table and sink into the seat, watching as the detective places her gun, badge, and phone on the table, a loud tinging sound echoing between us.
She then walks to the corner of the room, raises her arm, and presses the button behind the camera with her finger. The red light that was blinking stops and she turns around to face with a serious look on her face.
"Before you speak and tell me why you've come here, allow me to inform you of what I already know."
I nod, my brows furrowing as I watch her take her seat and light a cigarette before passing it to me. "Ugh, thanks," I reply, surprised, and take a long drag, making sure to savour the flavour as this may be my last smoke for a while.
"I've been looking for you for a few days and have gathered some very interesting information about you and Jimmy during that time." She begins as she leans back in her chair in the direction of me.
I flick the ash from my cigarette into the provided ashtray, attempting not to appear surprised that the authorities are already on my tail.
"Jimmy's wife filed a missing person report; she also stated unequivocally that she believes you are involved. Jimmy informed his wife that you were stalking him and pleading with him to impregnate you?" She pauses, her brows pinched together and an odd expression crossing her face.
"I never stalked the bastard," I scoff.
"No?"
"No," I remark as I lean closer. "I never saw or heard from him until he showed up at my job a few days ago and paid me to fuck him." I sneer with contempt as I butt out my cigarette.
After a few moments of silence, she responds, "I believe you and I'm not going to sugarcoat it. Lisa, your friend, informed me of everything."
"Everything?"
"Yes, absolutely everything. She told me about her relationship with Jimmy, how strongly she believed your husband was coerced into pursuing the small side hustle that resulted in his death, and how Jimmy showed up at the club on the first anniversary of your husband's passing. I was provided with a copy of the club's clientele logbook, which contained information about Jimmy's appointments and payment methods. He wasn't very clever when he used his birth name and smeared his signature all over the page, was he?"
I shake my head, drowning in humiliation and sickened by the memory of Jimmy fucking me.
"Lisa confessed to murdering Jimmy to save your life, and you both dumped his body in the club's skip bin. Your friend is descending into a world of regret, I'm not sure if it's because she came dangerously close to losing her life or-"
"Wait! Lisa was on the verge of death?"
"Yes, I was involved in a shootout with Amar Diamandis in front of the club, and Lisa was unfortunately struck by a bullet that rebounded off the concrete ground."
"Shit!" I mutter, at a loss for words.
"Did she also help you rob Chad's safe?"
I sit up straight in my chair, her glaring eyes making me feel worthless, and tears that have no business being there begin clouding my vision.
"Everything you've stated is accurate, but I want to take full responsibility for Jimmy's death; Lisa is innocent, and I provoked him by eliciting a confession from him despite his short temper. Additionally, slicing his face with a razor did not help my case against him."
The detective rises from her chair, gathers her belongings from the table, and walks towards the camera with her back to me. "Today's confession was made anonymously. My advice to you is to straighten out your affairs, clarify your story with Lisa, and return within 48 hours or I will have to come looking for you again." She reaches up and reactivates the camera, then proceeds to the door, holding it open for me.
"I'm not convinced," I murmur gently as I approach her.
"A crime has been committed, let's just say, that, in my own little twisted world, I am grateful that you annihilated the earth of a man who deserved everything he received, and for that, I am rewarding you by allowing you to redeem yourself and make amends where they are due." She says sternly, her face curving upward with a sly smirk.
And it was at that point that I realised superheroes without a cape or superpowers do exist.
Occasionally,
you'll discover them lurking in places you'd never expect to find them.