Cold Case

The hounds bayed, rushing into the woods with flocks of people chasing after them, torches in hand and focused expressions scrawled across their faces. A grim smile was painted across my partner’s face, illuminated every now and then by the stray flash of torch light. “They caught the scent.” 

She was only stating the obvious with the way we were rushing through the forest, only a few steps behind the line of officers with big dogs pulling at their harnesses. It was more a confirmation, an exclamation of relief. Though in this business, she should know better than to be relieved this early on. 

We hurried on, cold and tired but desperate to do anything we could, for hundreds of metres before reaching a small clearing, enough room for a few rocks and a stream. Giant oak trees line the edges, like giants peering into the inky black of the night. The dogs panned out, sniffing and barking. A shout came from the officer over by the biggest rock. They had found her. 

A small sigh came from my mouth as I glanced over at Amy, my partner in investigation, a thin smile covering the pain. I had to hold it together. After all, there were only remains left to find. Remains that felt hollow, completely unlike my sister when she had been alive. 

I was three years old when my mother had told me she was having another baby. Too young to realise how it would change the family. When my sister, Laura, had come into the world I had only registered a screaming, ugly, thing before turning back to my dolls. 

As we grew, she became my closest friend. We would whisper and giggle about every little thing, on long car rides, on the way to and from school, watching our favourite mystery show on TV. Everything. And now she was an empty body. 

The next few hours were a blur. Yelling, talking, barking, and kind words from Amy. Too many kind words. I didn’t want her sympathy. I wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I stayed. Her body was taken away. They sectioned off the area, with bright yellow caution tape, that reflected the piercing light of the torches back at us. 

At some point I was herded back to the place where we had parked our cars and gently ushered into the back seat. I stared at the seat in front of me for hours. Or possibly years. 

I don’t know when I passed out but the next thing that I knew I was the opening of the driver's door. The sun was breaking the horizon, lighting the forest up with a predawn glow. Birds were chirping and I could already see the beauty of the day ahead. Part of me thought that it would have been a great day for surfing with Laura, like we used to do when we were young. I could almost taste the salt again, remembering the wind-lashed beaches we would surf at.  

“Laine. Laine, I know you’re in shock but I’m going to need you to focus for a sec, ok?” Oh, someone was speaking. Amy! I tried to focus on her face but my eyelids felt heavy. “Laine, honey, come on. I’m going to take you back home but I need to know if that’s what you want. Do you want to go to your parents house?” 

Oh, no. My parents. They were going to be so angry. I didn't want to stand around listening to them argue for hours on end, trying to place the blame on each other. I shook my head. No. 

“Ok, then, are you going to be ok at home by yourself?” I giggled. I wasn’t going to be by myself! I had Albert. I told her this.

“Albert, sadly, isn’t capable of taking care of you. No opposable thumbs and all that. Do you want me to stay with you for the time being?” I just blinked at her. “All right then,” she mumbled. Louder she said, “I’m going to drive to my house and I’ll grab a bag.”

I watched the scenery change outside the car. Forest lit by the rising sun, the brambles seeming to stretch towards the cloudless sky, turned to the cute little village we lived in, people going about their day, taking kids to school or running to work. Unaware of the danger. Unaware that there had just been a murder. I giggled. That word sounded funny. Murder, murder, murder. The chant echoed around my head, over and over. Amy looked worried as she glanced back in the rear view mirror.

Muffled talking, then a slam of a car door and then I was alone. Like always. Even if Laura had been there she would’ve ignored me. We used to be great friends, my childhood filled to the brim with funny conversations, pranks on our parents and big forts out of pillows. But then we graduated and grew up, we became more distant -both figuratively and literally. In the most recent years, anything I did to remind her that we were supposed to be sisters, supposed to love each other, was laughed coldly at or shot down with a disdainful look. Until two years ago. When she ignored me all together and never acknowledged my presence. Through no fault of her own. But… she never even tried. Never even asked Amy despite knowing who my best friend was. What she could do. 

Why our incredible friendship ended, I could never be sure, and now… I would never know. 

 Suddenly, Amy was back and we were moving again. She was talking about something, trying to engage me in conversation, but suddenly nothing was funny anymore. I stared silently out the window until she slowly stopped talking. I didn’t mean to be rude, she was one of the only people that ever talked to me, cared about me, saw me. I just… couldn’t at that moment. Couldn’t function, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think.  

We arrived at my tiny little apartment overlooking the park. I shuffled through the lobby keeping my head down. Unlike me, Amy gave a grim smile to the few people we passed before stepping in the elevator. At the last second before the metal doors closed, Jemima, my next door neighbour, hurried into the elevator. 

“Hi there Amy. How are you doing? Not too busy I hope.” Jemma rapid-fired at my poor colleague. I shuffled further into the corner.

“A bit tired. Been out all night on a case.” She gave a weary smile. “What about you?”

“Gosh. I’m still reeling from the announcement about-” she gave a furtive glance around the elevator like someone was eavesdropping. “-poor Laura’s death. That poor family has been through so much. Visiting the apartment, are you?” 

Amy shuffled awkwardly. “Yes, I am. It was um…” Her eyes flicked over to me, filled with apologies. “Quite tragic.” I sighed. Then thanked whomever you care to name as the doors slid open to our floor. 

I zipped over to my door, waited for Amy to catch up, then as soon as the door was open, flung myself into the tiny apartment. Amy closed the door behind me before looking apologetic. As she should. 

“Look, I’m sorry! I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do in those situations! Change the subject? Say ‘sorry ma’am I’m not going to talk about my best friend while she’s in the same room as us, even though you couldn’t possibly know that?’”

“Maybe! I don’t know!” I huffed and sat down on the bright blue couch that was too big for the space it was crammed into. My whole apartment felt like that, actually. Like the furniture was full-sized in a half-sized house. She sat down next to me. Neither of us wanted to sleep.

“Can you turn the TV on?” I mumbled. She turned and raised an eyebrow at me then grabbed the remote. The TV was still on my favourite channel- crime documentaries- and normally Amy complained that she didn't want to watch TV about her work. Not today though.

We sat like that for a while before her phone rang. She grabbed it and shuffled over to the other side of the room before answering it. I kept watching TV because I wasn't interested. Not at all curious. Nuh-uh. 

Albert chose that moment to stalk out of the bedroom and plop himself next to me. I grinned, and shuffled closer to the one thing that would always brighten my day. My gorgeous, fluffy, grumpy, kitty.

A few minutes later, Amy walked back over. “So. I have news,” she sat down on the over side of Albert and started petting my adorable little fur munchkin. She took a deep breath and rushed through. “They think that this case and… what happened two years ago are connected. Possibly the same murderer.” Two years ago. When everything in my life went kaput. My relationship with my sister, my parent’s marriage, my job. 

“What evidence do you…? No, nevermind.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to know. 

“Sheriff wants me to come into the office.” I wasn’t surprised. Amy was one of the best detectives they had. She got up and started grabbing things out of her bag. “I’m going to head in-” she picked up a boot and started hunting for the other one,  “- I should only be a few hours. Call me if you need anything. And take a nap. You’ll feel better, trust me.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m not coming.” I stood up, stretched, then marched to the front door, waiting. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get involved. This case is too close to home for you, Laine. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. Just in case…” Just in case we never solve it and it turns cold. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. I knew the statistics, the same as she did.

“Amy. This is my sister. I have to do her justice.”

“Laine, I hate to say it but I don’t think your sister really cared. Not about you, not about anyone other than her stupid boyfriend.” 

I blinked. Ouch. I sat down. Amy found her boot and pulled it on before striding out the door without a glance back, locking the door behind her. 

Three precise minutes later (I should know, all I was doing was staring at the clock on the wall), the door swung open again but this time it wasn't Amy. It was Laura’s "stupid boyfriend". Why was he here?

He snuck in and rummaged through my stuff, sending up a cloud of dust. He killed Laura. It made sense actually. None of our leads had turned anything up but he… he had somehow flown under the radar for the entirety of the investigation, not even being called in to be interviewed despite his obvious connection to Laura. He was the culprit for yesterday’s murder and the one two years ago. He killed not only my sister but also, two hellish, difficult years ago, he killed… 

Me. 

He would probably get away with it too because I could see those plane tickets in his pocket. I could see what he was taking. Evidence. And I couldn’t do anything because even if I told Amy, it was the word of an alive detective with zero proof aside from ‘a ghost told me’. And even if Amy was pretty open about being able to see ghosts, in the face of the law, it wouldn’t count. 

I still didn’t know why he killed my sister -his girlfriend- or me -his girlfriend’s sister- and I wasn’t so sure I’d find out. 

Ten minutes later he snuck out, being surprisingly stealthy and sadly, leaving zero trace of his presence. Two hours and twenty-three minutes later, Amy came back. I told her what had happened.

She sighed and voiced what I had already thought. “And we can’t prove it because-”

I finished for her. “Dead men tell no tales.”