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Chatter fills the air. A stirring of whispered hums and shuffling feet. A dark, somber presence thickens the air around us. We move up to the crowd cautiously, Charlotte's hand clasping mine, dragging me through the throngs.
Thud.
Another one so soon. “She’s in the ally—was dumped in the trashcan,” Charlotte mumbles, coming to a stop at a blockade.
Thud.
Sickness stirs in my gut. I can’t do this. I back away, pulling from Charlotte’s hold. “I’m late for school,” I tell her. In reality, I’m scared to see something I won’t be able to be un-see. Do I know them too?
“Lizzy?” she calls out, her face pale, jaw unhinged. “Lizzy!”
“I can’t,” I mouth. Turning on my heels, I take the longer route to school, hoping the woman died of natural causes and fell in the trash. God, that’s still horrible.
I come to the traffic lights, a dull ache throbbing behind my eyes. I walk across, screeching when a horn blasts and a car skids to a stop before me. For a split second, I wish it wouldn’t have stopped.
“Lizzy?” Stephan calls out from the window. “I could have killed you!” he exclaims, jumping out the car and coming over to me. Looking up at the lights, I realize I crossed without pressing the button or waiting for the beep. “I’m sorry.” I shake my fog-filled brain.
“Are you okay? Charlotte called me.” Concern creases his brow.
“No,” I admit. “I don’t think I am.” He pulls me into his embrace, dragging me over to his car and urging me into the passenger seat. My breathing is erratic. Tears threaten, but I force them not to fall. One, two, three, I count internally, my nails pinching at my skin to distract my thoughts.
Stephan starts the car, then once again slams on his breaks. “Fuck!” he barks. Looking out the window to see what stopped him, a spark of shock eclipses the panic from before. Bruno runs across the street, his lead hanging from his collar. I search the surroundings for his owner. “We can’t leave him,” I state, jumping out of the car and calling for him. “Come here, boy.” His fat body waddles with excitement over to me. Stroking his head, my hand runs through moist liquid coated into his fur. I twist my hand. Crimson smears, wet, fresh. Realization washes over me.
“Is that blood?” Stephan grimaces, coming to kneel beside me. The lead is coated in blood too. I scrub my hand down my jeans, frantic.
“Get him in the car. We have to go back,” I choke out.
“Back where?”Leaping out the car with Bruno, I race toward the crowd of people all curious and waiting for a crumb of gossip. Stephan calls my name, but I continue to move with haste, pushing through the crowd until I’m at the front of the police tape, no Charlotte in sight. Officers stand guard, securing the scene. Forensics already has a tent up. Hernandez’s car comes into view, and I call out to the officers, “I need to speak to the detective in charge.” They look between themselves, muttering under their breaths. “Hey! I need to speak to Detective Hernandez now.”
“Calm down, ma’am. This is a crime scene. If you need to speak with someone, you can do it down at the precinct.”
I compose myself when I see the detective coming from the ally, and hold my hand up to him, anxious. He says something to the uniform cop, who then walks over, lifting the tape for me and ushering me toward one of the police cars. “Wait there.” Stephan has joined the crowd. Looking over at me, he mouths, “What’s happening?”
“Lizzy,” Hernandez says like we’re friends. He comes to stand before me, his gaze dropping to Bruno.
“I didn’t know you had a dog.”
“He’s not mine,” I rush out.
“Okay…” He continues to stare at Bruno, noticing the crimson stain on his fur. “What was so urgent?”
“The woman,” I struggle with the words, almost losing them in my throat. “The woman back there, I think I know her—sort of.” I shake my head, holding up Bruno’s lead. “I pass a woman and her dog every Tuesday on the way to school.”
“And?”
“I found Bruno, alone. He has blood on his fur and lead.” His eyes skip to my jeans. “I got some on my hand,” I defend, knowing it doesn’t look good.
Looking behind him, he gestures with a crook of his hand for officers to come over.
“Wear gloves and take the lead from Ms. West. Call a dog unit to retrieve the animal for forensic testing.”
“Is she dead because of me?” I ask, guilt gripping my throat.
“Who knows your routines, the routes you take, your class schedule?”
My mind races, trying to sort through the chaos. “Charlotte is probably the only one, but…”
“Write me a list of everyone you have contact with on these days, people you may regularly pass or stop to speak to. Do you pass any shops, stop for coffee? Have you noticed any strange cars around, new people in your life?”
