he is dead Ms. Anderson', he stated proudly.
'Dead? How?', mixed emotions churning inside me. Words swam around in my head, but none of them would coalesce to form complete sentences. I should be relieved that justice has been met, but I couldn't get myself to feel it. It's like it has been robbed and given to me. A ping of regret is also laced there for not getting to hit him myself.
'I won't bore you with the details, suffice it to say that we found the trail leading to him. He tried to escape vigilantly, we are left with the option of shooting to constrain him, but unfortunately, we miscalculated. He died on the way to the hospital', he explained, showing me the details of the murderer.
I read the file learning all the details that led to my sister’s death. He was obsessed with auburn hair. It all started with his cheating Wife who had auburn hair. He killed 4 girls before Sophie, all with the same hair colour. He is just a psycho on a killing spree. I closed the file without reading everything. What's the use, it won't bring my sister back? Her killer is dead. I'm left with an unsatisfactory feeling, but then it's me. God Erica stop being self-centred, think about Sophie for once. I mentally chastised.
'Why didn't Jack stop from cremation?', I asked recalling her boyfriend’s name.
' no one contacted us with that name Ms. Anderson. We asked her neighbours, but no one knows anything about her. It seems she has shifted to this flat 5 months back. We did our duty Ms. Anderson'
Strange. Where is her boyfriend? Why didn't he claim her body? Why left to the officials?
it's just that no one knows we are seeing each other. We want to keep it a secret for a while.
Her words resonate in my mind. But not forthcoming even after her death? Jerk.
'I will come tomorrow to collect her things. Thank you for your information Mr. McConnell ', I shook his hand.
Sleep didn't come to me that night. I'm still stuck on the thought of her not being there anymore. We were trying to rebuild our broken relationship. So much was left unsaid.
I woke up groggily to the sounds of traffic. I checked my clock to see it's 10. I scampered to get ready only to remember last night at once. The numbness returns with my remembrance.
It being Friday, I applied for sick leave through the office website, not yet ready to face my world. I got ready and went to collect Sophie's things from the police station, barely stopping to say anything.
I went to her home after finding out her address from her things. It's close to the upper east. Not what I'm expecting. How can she afford this place? Where did she get this kind of money? What did she do for a living? So many questions. I wished we had more time. Regret washed over me for not trying hard enough to locate her. All that anger sounds silly now when faced with death.
Her flat is a fully furnished two-bedroom apartment with a living room and an open kitchen. Everything is pristine and expensive, leading me to ask the same question, where did she get this kind of money? I checked for any photos of this mysterious jack but didn't find any. Thought so.
I took Sophie's photo and locked the door, don’t wanting to linger more than necessary. I checked with the landlord for any due payments, but not to my astonishment I found everything has been cleared before itself. There seems to be no overdue. It's as if she knows she is leaving.
I found out there are stages of grief.
1. Deny- not accepting the truth when it's glaring at your face.
2. Ignore- not thinking about telling the truth. Wishing it would go away.
3. Divert- diverting oneself from grieving
And finally,
4. acceptance- embracing the truth.
By the time Sunday rolled around I'm in stage 4. The tears I have been controlling for the past couple of days broke from me. It took me 3 hrs from crying my heart out to hiccupping. I slept holding her photo, unable to eat anything.
Monday brought a mood change within me- panic. Forget dragon lady, before Raphael Sinclair she looks like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.
I'm going to extract 3 years’ worth of work from you before doing any firing
Ya, and what did I do? Applied for a leave on the first day of said extraction. Bad doesn't start to cover it.
I hurried into the building with the lord's to-go coffee cup with 10 minutes to spare. Before facing the lord, I must scrutinize how deep I'm stuck. I went to the second most TOP floor, my eyes searching for a certain bombshell with a Barbie complex. I went to her horde... I mean a desk surrounded by cheerleaders in office gear. Who knew Raphael Sinclair is a closet Barbie doll collector! This gives me a different perspective on hiring me (hello ...curvy Barbie here).
'Hi Vivian, can I talk to you for a second?'
She arched her eyebrow trying to imitate someone we both know, but it's totally lost on me. Raphael rocked it, no one can do better than him.
I stared at her horde letting her know I wanted to speak in private, which she didn’t get.
'Is she from the new cleaning crew?' Cheerleader 1 smirked. Cheerleader 2 snickered.
Welcome to high school.
' did Mr. Sinclair asked anything about me on Friday?', I shot directly without beating around the bush.
'Who knows? I don't remember things about insignificant people', she replied sounding bored checking nails.
'So, you think Mr. Sinclair is insignificant?'
'It's not what I meant, and you know it', she glared all casualness gone.
'Is that so?'
'You should have come on Friday if you wanted to know'
She is not going to say anything.
'You are right. Oh, I almost forgot to give you something '
'What is it?', bored again.
I dumped my coffee on her chair, ‘oops, my bad'.
I can hear the shriek as I turned to the lift. What a waste of time and a good cup of coffee.
I settled in my place hoping Raphael would forget about me.
'Ms. Anderson, come to my office' the intercom buzzed.