I stare at the screen trying to comprehend. This can't be true. There might be a mistake with the picture. I must go check with her. Shit, I don't even know where she lives. How pathetic that is. There is still no reply to my message. I don't have any other way of contacting her. I won't believe or rather I make myself not believe all that crap brewing on the screen. I must, the other option is too much for me to comprehend right now. I didn't get a lot of time to sort my emotions after our talk. I put everything in a metal cage in my mind. Now that box is about to burst. To divert me from the current event, I noted down the officer's name who is handling this case.
I tore the paper after jotting down, took my keys and mobile, and left without even changing from my pj's. My mind is preoccupied with my sisters’ photos. They don't show any pictures of the body. I stopped hearing anything after I saw that photo.
The street is bustling, and I join the fray, dreading to reach the police station.
I entered a much busy police station. I went to a sour-looking man's desk and asked about officer McConnell. He pointed to a closed-door without lifting his head. I knocked and entered without waiting for a person talking on the phone. Scott McConnell, the deputy police commissioner said the nameplate. He is in his late fifties, probably close to his retirement, with a potbelly and mostly bottle of gel applied on the hair. I don't mind being rude if he ends his call. After much listening, he ends the call and faces me with a questioning look.
'What can I do for you, young lady?'
'I want to see the victim’s photo regarding the serial murder case', I said frantically.
'What about it? It is already shown through every news channel out there', he said as a matter of fact.
'No. You don't understand. I want to confirm myself', I told him
'Miss, don't know what you think you are confirming. I'm busy right now, as you can see. Could you talk to another person?', he said dismissively.
'Listen, officer, that person they are showing is my Sister. And I don't think it's correct, because I just spoke to her yesterday. There is some mistake made somewhere', I yelled.
He paled, or rather it was my imagination. He stuttered, 'Sister?'
'Yes. Now could you show me the picture?', I said, all energy draining after my outburst.
He regained his posture and investigated his desks retrieving a file.
'Before I share the contents of this file, I need identification or proof, for what you claim to be', he stated calmly now.
I showed him my identification, but he just shook his head saying, ‘You are the mistaken one miss. Your card says Anderson, and the victim's last name is Elliott', Relieved that it's sorted out.
'Listen, officer, my Sister is not answering my messages or calls, and I don't know where she lives. All I know at this moment is, she might be the victim and I don't have any means to reach her. So please try to understand my situation and help me here', I blabbered, though it's not in my nature to beg.
'You don't know where your sister lives?'
Is that all he got from my speech?
'We are estranged', I answered begrudgingly, not wanting to disclose our relationship.
'I'm sorry miss, but we have to follow rules here. I need proof', he said though not feeling sorry at all from his expression.
I squint through my documents in my mind, recalling everything that may help, but I don't have any. We left our home in such a hurry that night Long ago that we took only our essentials. I didn't even think of taking any pictures except for a selfie we took yesterday, which I showed him. ' why is her picture related to the case then?’, I asked.
He jolted to attention looking at the picture.
'Where did you meet her?', he questioned.
'I told you, she is my sister', I said, shaking my head.
'Then why do you have different last names, Ms. Anderson?'
'I don't know', I lied. It may be due to our different fathers, or her wanting to start a new life. It's probably nothing, but I don't want to share that knowledge. I must respect her privacy.
He gave me a deep look probably concluding that I'm not a threat here and opened the file. He slides the picture towards me, but I couldn't pick it up for the life of me.
Lying there in the pool of her blood is my sister. She has several knife cuts throughout her body. Her hair has been chopped unevenly. Her clothes are torn in many places as if she was in a fight. How could someone do this to her?
Looking at that picture, I finally accepted the blaring truth my mind refused till now. My sister's dead. I want to shout at the injustice. She is just 26. Not enough to leave this world. I wanted to rage at someone, break something, but I suppressed it. Right now, I must focus on this conversation.
'When can I take her body? ‘I asked, holding my sobs inside me at that word.
He shifted in his seat, 'about that Ms. Anderson, we took care of the situation.'
They buried her without me.
'How could you do this? It's not been 24 hrs yet. Why did you do it?', I asked enraged, my grief in check for now.
'We don't have any proof of her relatives. As far as we know she is an orphan with no close friends. She has been cut badly. In cases such as this, we wrap things up without any delay, after collecting evidence of course.'
Wrap things up. He said so simply, without any emotion. I want to choke him and say she is a human being or rather was. Oh god. I didn't even have a chance to look at her one more time.
'What about exhumation?', rejecting the idea even as I said it. I don't want to disrespect her like that. I opened my mouth to say forget it, but he interrupted by saying, ' it's not possible'
'Why?'
'Because she has been cremated'
She doesn't even have a burial space. I want to cry but this is not the time. A choke escaped me even as I said it. I controlled it.
'Can I take her with me?'
'There is a little paperwork, why don't you come tomorrow Ms. Anderson?', he asked, averting his eyes.
'It's k. I will come tomorrow', starting to leave.
As I reached the door, I turned and asked him ‘What about the killer?'