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Isit in the small interrogation room like a dirty criminal. A film of grime covers my skin so thickly that a shower and exfoliant will not remove it. I’ve tried several times to scrub off whatever I think is sticking to me.
Gianni reluctantly dropped me at my parents’ house so I could shower and change. I’d caught a glance of myself in the mirror in the hallway as I’d entered, and Gianni’s wife’s face stared back at me.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t recognize my reflection. I’ve become someone I never met yet am now haunted by.
No amount of makeup could hide how washed out I look as I sit waiting for DI Klein to return.
Two hours have passed because Klein was finicky about every detail of my statement. I’m not sure what he thinks of me. He certainly did not expect me to tell him what I did. I saw the surprise on his face when I revealed my true self and Carl’s motivation for wanting me dead.
We’ve gone over last night so many times I am beginning to doubt what happened myself, even though I know in my mind what I’d seen and heard.
The white plastic clock on the wall tells me it is half-past one, so I should be hungry, but my appetite has yet to return. I don’t want to admit Gianni was right. This is hard. Tiny fragments have come back to me like he said. It hadn’t been too bad when Klein had been in the room with me, but now the room is empty, and I’m left with the smell of death upon the walls, the vision of Lewis huddled in the corner, his breathing depleting, his eyes searching for something. And I’m sitting here doing nothing.
I tell myself I wasn’t holding the knife, Carl was, and Lewis wasn’t his first victim.
Lulu had been the last straw.
I loved my cat more than anything in the world.
Lulu hasn’t been home in two days. She has never stayed away from home. I’ve been up and down the street several times, asking if any of the neighbors have seen my cat, but no one has.
I can’t sleep because I cannot stand not knowing. My dad made posters. I posted her picture on several social media sites for missing pets, hoping someone has seen her, but as the days go by, I know there is less and less chance of finding her.
I haven’t let myself contemplate the idea Carl is involved. I can’t do that to myself or Lulu. I tell myself I’m being paranoid. Cats go missing all the time. It wasn’t him. Even he wouldn’t be that cruel.
But I am wrong.
I walk into the kitchen after going down the street for a third time, knocking on doors.
“Any luck?” Mom asks.
“No,” I huff, peeling my coat off. “I don’t know why I’m bothering. It’s pretty clear she isn’t coming back.”
“Oh honey, you don’t know that. She might have wandered that bit too far and is now being fed by some lovely family.” It is typical of my mom, despite her growing worries about Grandad, to look on the bright side.
“Or she could be dead.” I pull the chair out and plonk myself down.
“Hey, come on. Don’t think like that.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“Yeah, well, don’t. You’re fourteen. You can be realistic when you get to my age.” She plods over and kisses me on top of my head like she used to do when Frank and I were little.
“It’s the not knowing,” I whisper. “I wish I knew what happened to her.”
Mom slips her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a half hug. Carl walks into the kitchen. I hug my arms around myself.
“Hey, Carl, what are you up to?” my mom chirps.
“Nothing much.”
“Well, I’m going to empty the tumble dryer. I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Carl waits until my mom leaves the room.
“Why the long face?” He sneers. He has one hand in his pocket, which worries me.
“Nothing.”
