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Smiling, I answered, “I was just going to call you again. Where are you?”
“Cedar Walker?”
I didn’t recognize the voice. Surprise had me answering, “Yes. Who’s this?”
“Where are you?”
The question caught me so off guard that I answered before I realized it wasn’t any of his business. “At the high school.”
“We’re going to send a car.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m Detective Donnelly. I’m going to send a car to pick you up.”
“I called my friend.”
“Miss Walker. Please wait for the car.”
It was then that fear hit. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
The line went dead. I immediately called my house. No answer. I called Mom. Her phone went to voicemail. So did Dad’s. My hands were shaking when I called Brock back, but this time, his phone went to voicemail too. So many scenarios ran through my mind, but I couldn’t grab a hold of any of them. I didn’t want to. It felt like eternity, but it was only a few minutes before I saw the squad car pull into the parking lot, stopping right in front of me.
A woman got out and walked around it. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, her own casted down, glancing up for only a second when she asked, “Cedar?”
That fear spiked and my voice broke. “Yes.”
“I’m Officer Spencer.”
“What’s going on?” I wanted to demand she tell me, but my words were no more than a whisper.
“Detective Donnelly is waiting for you.”
“Where are my parents?”
She didn’t answer, just opened the back door of the car and waited for me to climb in.
On the drive to the station, I entertained the worst-case scenario. I couldn’t put into words what I was thinking. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, and I had a knot in my throat that no matter how many times I tried to swallow it, I couldn’t make it budge.
We reached the station. Officer Spencer directed me inside, to the back. A man in a suit was waiting. He stood when I entered his office. “Thank you,” he said to Officer Spencer, before he gestured to the chair. “Please sit.”
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“I think you need to sit.”
“Just tell me!” I screamed.
I knew, before he even said the words, I knew my worst fear had come true. He had trouble looking me in the eyes. His shoulders were heavy from the weight of the news he had to share. “Around five fifteen this evening, your parents’ car was struck by a drunk driver who ran a light.”
I didn’t want him to say the next part because, as soon as he did, my world would be forever changed. My life would be thrown off course, my path forever altered. As soon as he did, I would be living in a world where my parents no longer did.
His voice was so soft when he said, “It was sudden and quick. They didn’t suffer.”
No, the suffering was left for me. A lifetime that spanned out before me, all the things we thought we’d do, all the plans we’d made. I was left to do on my own.
The clock ticked, that relentless ticking of time that continued to forge on, even as my world came to a screeching halt. My parents were gone. I’d never again come home to the sound of Mom singing, to the scents of her baking. I would never again read with Dad in his office, or catch them making out in the garden, or walking hand in hand when we went shopping. My dad wouldn’t be there to give me away at my wedding; my mom wouldn’t fix my veil. They’d never know their grandkids. They wouldn’t grow old together, we wouldn’t. I did sit then. I dropped down into the chair behind me.
