Kassie stood outside CPD headquarters, a lone figure on the busy street. In the past, she had had the odd friend to run with, plus her mother, and latterly Adam and Faith. But they were gone now and she couldn’t even rely on the shadowy presence of the undercover cops for company. She was not a suspect any more, nor even a person of interest. She was a witness, who had grappled with the real killer, accidentally harvesting crucial DNA which exonerated both herself and Redmond, but that was all. She had played a valuable role in the investigation, but was no longer useful.
Turning away from the police station, Kassie hurried off down the street. She had never looked cool or smart, but she knew that tonight she looked particularly ridiculous. Her own clothes were still being analysed, so on her release she’d been provided with garments donated by a local charity. The CPD’s headquarters was not really set up for juveniles – their Detention Center being across town – so she had had to wear the smallest adult clothes available. They still swamped her and she felt like a kid at a dressing-up party, as she stumbled clumsily down the busy street.
She was gripped by embarrassment and misery. She knew that she had made an important contribution. The police now had a suspect – Joseph White – a name they wouldn’t have had without her intervention. Yet oddly Kassie felt no joy, no relief at this development. She just felt empty and rudderless, as if she had been allowed to play her part in this story, without ever getting to see the end.
Instinctively she turned her feet in the direction of home. What else could she do? But it meant nothing. The house was cold and empty and, unless her mother returned, the utilities would soon be cut off. Was that Natalia’s plan? To force Kassie to follow her north? Whatever, it was all academic now.
‘Hey, watch it …’
Kassie thumped into the irritated passer-by and stumbled away, apologizing. He continued to abuse her, but she didn’t engage, moving away fast, her gaze glued to the ground. She just wanted to get home now, to find sanctuary for a few hours. For years, she had kept herself apart, reasoning that it was best for everyone, but then, idiotically, she had tried to engage with life, to prove a point. And the results had been catastrophic. Now there was nothing left to do but prepare herself.
She had played this scenario out many times in her head. What to do in her final hours? Sometimes she imagined herself praying, finding God, or something like him, at the very last. Sometimes she imagined defending herself fiercely, miraculously snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. But now she saw only desolation and oblivion. Altering your fate, making a difference – neither of these things seemed possible any more. The best thing she could hope for was to make her peace with the world, smoke a bit of skunk and prepare for the end.
This then was the legacy of her gift. The price of her knowledge.
This was her birthright.