Father's Daughter

The case was as straightforward as any. The knife was found in the back of the drawer, accompanied by towels crusted with a crimson coating. Why was this case so different from the rest? I'd seen this a million times, but somehow this one felt wrong. Like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit in quite right. The whole thing was too clean, too easy. I clenched my eyes shut and took a deep breath, inhaling the icy air that always came with our Maine winters, wishing I hadn't parked across the street. I sped up and half-jogged towards the station, already five minutes late.

"Cold out today, isn't it?"

Ms Willis greeted me at the front desk, taking my coat and hanging it on the silver pegs behind her. I smiled gratefully and agreed. Ms Willis, although sweet, could run this building single handedly. She was tough and had learned much by watching from her receptionist desk, the only job for a woman in her time.

"Which room is he in?" I asked, hoping I wasn't too late.

"I'm quite sure room three. Start there but come back if he isn't."

I thanked her, then hurried off to meet John Edwards. It was hard not to know him. Greenville was small, and murders don't happen often. He was a successful businessman and a kind father, and I had often seen him around town. But today, he was our biggest suspect, and things were not looking too good for him. There were no fingerprints on anything, which was odd, but not uncommon, and everything was found stashed in the dark oak dresser in his attic. He lived with his wife and now, only one child at the age of 16. It made my heart ache to think of the Edwards alone at home, trying not to think about Maggie.

I arrived at the door of room three and gripped the handle. It was cold as I pulled open the heavy door to reveal a small room with a metal table in the middle, and bare tan walls. There was one window, but barred over so the light shone through in harsh strips. I managed a weak smile to John, who in other circumstances would have been handsome, but sleepless nights had taken a toll on him. I sat down then pressed the red button on the recording machine. Every word that came out of his mouth would be recorded and possibly used against him.

"Hi John, so you obviously know why your here."

I cringed, realizing how dumb that sounded. I always faltered at the beginning, and the thing I wished most they had taught in training is how to start an interrogation.

"Um, I'll start by asking you some questions, just do your best to answer them. So, Could you describe Maggie?"

He smiled, thinking of her. "You probably know that Maggie was 10. She was very smart and her teachers loved her. She was outgoing and friendly, and had two best friends, Emily and Finn. Maggie was a role model to everyone. Even as a baby, she rarely fussed."

"Was there any reason you might have had any anger or a grudge towards her?" I held my breath for this one. Everyone always got offended at this. In the seven years I had been here, I had learned: Even if you're guilty, no one likes being accused.

"No." John answered, and, miracle of miracles, he didn't yell. Only a slight frown accompanied the answer. "She was, to be honest, my favorite. We had a great relationship, and if she was mad at me, she was good at hiding it."

I smiled, wishing I had had a better relationship with my father. After abusing my mom for five years, he ran off. It's part of the reason why I took the job as a detective. I couldn't help my mom, but I can help others.

"Describe the rest of your family." I continued.

"My wife, Dena is an author.She is currently working on her second book and specializes in YA writing. We have been married for 21 years."

"And Tommy?"

At the mention of Tommy, John's lips pinched together in a sort of grimace. What's the matter with Tommy? I wondered. Last time I saw him, he seemed to be nice.

"Tommy is a good kid, but he never had a great relationship with me. Were both pleasant to each other, but it's awkward. I can tell you that he's great at drawing and has relatively decent grades."

"Alright." I decided to cut to the chase. "So, on Sunday when Dena went shopping, you were with Maggie. You were apparently downstairs working on your computer, is that correct?"

"Yes, in my office. I had extra work I needed to tie up."

"Tommy was with Dena, and when they came home, Maggie was gone. You called 911 and we searched the house. We found the knife and towels in the dresser, correct?"

"No. Tommy wasn't shopping with Dena, I know this because she was buying him new pens as a gift for his grades going up. He told me he was upstairs drawing."

I frowned. That's not what the record said. "Did you hear anything odd or suspicious?"

"No. I have a soundproof office because i need to focus on my job. I wish I had seen something, but it's in the basement."

"Do you suspect Tommy in any way?"

"I don't know. I feel like this would do more damage to him if you came barging in and accusing him."

John really was a kind father. I knew some people who would have immediately sold out someone they knew just to get away from jail. All he wanted was one thing, a happy family. Being involved in this mess was hurting him, I could see.

"I know you want to protect him, but please. You have to answer this." I said through gritted teeth

John looked at me with pale, bloodshot eyes. Before he said anything, I knew the answer.

"Yes"

I stood up, the puzzle piece finally found, popped into the right spot, and I could see the whole picture. John couldn't have done it, there were work records on his computer. He worked in a soundproof office. Tommy could have easily hidden the bloodstains on his clothes and passed them off as paint. I clapped my hands over my mouth and charged out of the room, out the door, not bothering to grab my coat. Bolting down the street, I threw myself into the car and drove as fast as I could towards the Edwards. I couldn't believe I had left Dena with him, especially since he was a suspect.

I prayed I was wrong. It was easier to have the killer locked in the station with a trial on the way. My stomach clenched and twisted as I forced myself up to the front door and knocked.

And there was Tommy, with red "paint" splattered on his jeans.

And Dena nowhere to be found.

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𝑯𝒊 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔! 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒗𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒃 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒇𝒖𝒍 :)