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MALLORY
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Pounding at my front door wakes me from a deep sleep. I was having the best dream. One that involved Dr. Pratt not being a prick. I really am liking the return of these recent dreams.
Okay, maybe I overreacted. He wasn’t that big of an A-hole. Actually, he may not have been as much of an A-hole as I thought. I must be PMSing or something. I try putting a pillow over my head and ignoring the outside world. No luck. The pounding continues. This time it is followed by someone yelling.
“This is the police! Open up!”
What the hell are the police doing here? “Alright, alright. I’m coming. Please don’t go busting the door down,” I yell while rolling out of bed and tugging my kitty cat robe over my shoulders. Is there a fire or something? I have never been woken up by the police before.
“Can I help you?” I ask with squinted eyes. There are two police officers outside my door. What time is it anyway?
“Sorry to wake you, ma’am. We were beginning to think no one was home,” the younger male officer says. His female partner rolls her eyes, and I know just what she is thinking. They aren’t sorry for waking me at all.
“Are you Miss Mallory Moore?” the female officer asks.
“That is I. What’s going on here? Do I need to evacuate or something?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m Officer Jones and this is my partner, Officer O’Dell. We have some questions to ask you. May we come in?” She is all business while Officer O’Dell tries picking something out of his teeth.
“Uh.” I turn to make sure the coast is clear of my useless sister. She is nowhere in sight, but her mess remains all over my living room.
Great, I never have company, and the first people that stop by get to see this. “Sure, come on in. Please excuse the mess. My sister is visiting and has no regard for anything that does not belong to her.”
“Is your sister here now?” Officer O’Dell questions. He is tall, thick, and has at least two-day-old scruff covering his face.
“I don’t think so. Of course, I did just wake up. Please,” I say, rushing to remove the discarded clothes and junk food wrappers from my sofa cushions, “have a seat. I am going to get dressed. It will just take me a minute.”
I don’t wait around to see if they sit or not. Officer Jones does not look like someone you want to keep waiting. Compared to her partner, she is well put together. Straight posture, her hair pulled back in a perfect bun, giving you visual access to her richly dark and flawless skin. I would say that she is in her late thirties or early forties.
O’Dell looks straight out of the academy. This may be the source of her irritation. At least I hope it is him and not me.
I quickly throw on a tee shirt and pull on a pair of jeans. Checking my phone, I see it is almost nine in the morning, not as late as I thought it was. No missed messages. So, Kent never tried to reach out after we parted ways last night. Interesting.
Reentering the living room, Officer O’Dell is casually sitting on the sofa while Officer Jones remains standing. I decide to sit in the armchair. That will keep me from pacing while they ask whatever questions they have.
“Miss Moore, when was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Shawn Walker?” Jones dives right into it, hitting me with a question I did not expect. Not that I knew what to expect at all.
“Um, I don’t know. It has been a while. Maybe three months or more. Hard to say. Why?”
“What about your old roommate, Amy Holster?” O’Dell pipes in.
Why are they asking me about them? “It’s been much longer for her. We were never really friends, just roommates. She left without notice over six months ago. I have not heard from her since she bailed on me. She never even collected all her things. Amy owed two months of back rent, so I don’t blame her for not trying to come back for it all.”
“So, she left suddenly. You ever think that something might have happened to her?” Jones asks with a pinched brow.
“No, she was flakey like that. I also saw her Instagram posts before she blocked me. She’s fine. I’m sorry, why are you asking me about them? They didn’t even know each other that well.”
The officers share a look. “So, you don’t know, then?” O’Dell sits up and leans forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Know what? Why are you two here, anyway?”
Jones releases a puff of breath as if she does not believe me. “Miss Moore, your ex-boyfriend and roommate have been living together for the last six months. From what I have gathered, they were engaged to be married, already had a joint bank account and everything. How were you not aware of this?” she asks.
I note how she used words like ‘were’ and ‘had’, as in the past tense. “I am a busy person. Are you saying that they are not together anymore, or that something has happened to them?” My mouth suddenly becomes dry. I find it hard to swallow. “Would you two care for something to drink?”
O’Dell is about to accept my offer, but Jones answers first. “No, we are fine.” I get up for some water while she continues. “Yes, we are saying just that. The two of them were found murdered in their home yesterday morning. Officer O’Dell and I were the ones to answer the call. Neither one had shown up for work and people were concerned. It was a gruesome scene. Since they both have you in common, here we are.”
It sinks in. I am frozen. Suddenly, my muscle functions fail, and the glass slips from my hand, hits the floor, and smashes to the ground around my bare feet.
Did she just say murdered? Shawn was murdered. He left me for my roommate, then they both ended up getting killed.
Bile rises up my throat. Without thinking, I step forward, lean over the sink, and release the contents of my stomach into a dirty dish. The glass shards on the floor dig into the bottom of my left foot. The physical pain helps dull the mental anguish.
I let out a little yelp, causing Officer Jones to round the bar and see what I have done. “That looks painful. Do you have a broom?”
I point to the closet in the corner, and she retrieves the broom and dustpan from it.
“Don’t move,” she demands while sweeping up my mess. “O’Dell, get over here and grab a towel or something,” she calls, then mumbles under her breath, “Fucking worthless.”
Jones eyes me from her position, and I offer her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened there. I’m still trying to process what you just told me. Are you sure it was Shawn and Amy? Are you sure they were murdered?”
“Girl, do you not watch the news? It’s all over the place.” O’Dell stops talking when he sees the blood pooling at my feet. “Oh, damn! Where can I find a towel?” I point to the hall, and he is gone before I can give more direction.
“You got any kitchen towels in here? It will be next week before he finds anything.” Jones dumps the swept-up glass into the trash bin, and I point to the far cabinet. She retrieves a towel and begins wrapping my foot in it. “There might be some shards still in your foot.”
“It’s okay. I’m a nurse.” I pull my first aid kit from under the sink and hobble back over to the chair I had been sitting in earlier.
O’Dell is still gone, but Jones isn’t going to wait on him. She pulls out a notepad and pen. “I need to know your whereabouts for the last few days. Let’s start with last Sunday and go from there. Please try to include everything. I will also need the names of those who can corroborate your story.”
My story? “Well, my schedule is pretty set and simple.” I give her the details of my boring life and she writes it all down. It doesn’t even fill up two pages. Five days’ worth of activities in just a few paragraphs. I feel like such a loser.
When I am done, Officer O’Dell joins us with the towel I used to dry off with after my shower yesterday. I have already removed the glass and patched my foot up in his absence. It’s not bad at all. One minor cut on the bottom of the foot sure looks worse than it is.
“Here is my info,” Officer Jones says, handing me a small card while walking to the door. “Call me if you think of anything else.” She turns the knob to my front door. “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t go anywhere. We will need to talk to you again soon.”
They leave me with those last words. Words that almost sounded like a threat. What the heck just happened?
I bounce up and grab my laptop. As soon as a browser opens, I search the local news sites for information on Shawn and Amy. I click on a video that aired last night.
“Friends and family were concerned about the couple when over a day had gone by with unanswered calls and messages. When Lori Walker, Shawn’s mother, called his workplace, she was told he had not shown up for work. That is when fear seeped into this concerned mother.”
The young news anchor reports while standing outside a simple two-story home in Richardson, TX. “She came to check on her son, but no one answered. With both occupants’ cars in the drive, she decided to call the local police department and ask for a well-check. What they found inside was not only horrendous, but heartbreaking.”
I zone out for a minute. I never even met Shawn’s mother, and we were together for over a year. Six months! They were together for six freaking months, and he had already proposed!
Something the anchor says catches my attention, and I try to focus.
“Sources say that video footage from a nearby security camera may have picked something up, but that footage has yet to be released. If you have any information about what may have happened to this happy couple, please contact the number on the screen.” The number for Richardson’s police department flashes on the bottom.
I can’t do this right now. Slamming my laptop closed, I abruptly stand, forgetting all about my injured foot. “Crap!” I yell a little too loudly. It is too early for a drink, but I could really use one right now.