Sting

Who killed Marnie Thomas? - Chapter 4

One day before the shooting...

Interview room, Manhattan 22nd precinct, Upper East Side.

The bitter wind moaned against the window, and Gia stared, eyes glazed over, at a fly that flew into it, over, and over, and over again. It was convinced it could reach the outside, and she watched in silenced, contemplating on the fly's ignorance.

Brewster cautiously entered, closing the door behind him, and slowly sat opposite her, as if she were a deer that would scatter if he made to loud a sound or too sudden a movement.

"My name is Detective Brewster, but you can just call me Khalil. If that would make you more comfortable."

She didn't respond, watching the fly as a single tear escaped her eye. She quickly wiped it away as she pulled herself back to reality, forcing herself to meet his piercing jade-green eyes. Her face was blank with disturbance, her eyes red with fatigue.

"I understand that you were the last one to see Arabella. Can you tell me about that?" He paused, waiting for a response that never came. "Did you two go anywhere after school?"

"To the store." She whispered.

"Did you speak to anyone in the store? Anyone follow you?"

"No."

"Did you usually go to the store with her after school?"

"No."

"Why'd you go this time?"

"She needed pencils." Gia strained as she caged her tears.

"How about after the store? Where'd you go?"

"Home."

"You walked her home?"

"She walked me home. I live on Lennox; she lives on Lex." She took a shaky breath. "She always walked me home. It added almost five minutes to her trip, but she did it anyway."

"She would've usually walked past the park?"

"I guess."

Brewster jotted in his notebook and paused when she started to sob quietly.

"Why did I let her walk there by herself? This is all my fault..."

"Hey, hey..." he comforted. "This ain't your fault."

Her demeanor changed almost instantly, as did her tone. "No. It's not my fault. It's your fault."

"I'm sorry?" He said, confused.

"I said, it's your fault!" She slammed her fists on the table, now furious. "Some pervert has been sneaking around the academy gates like a fucking serial killer since mid-fucking-January, and you morons didn't do shit about it! And now my best friend is dead!" She broke down after hearing herself say that last sentence. "He left her in the dirt to die, like a dog."

Brewster's mouth was open as the reality of the tragedy hit them both like a ton of bricks.

"She was so smart, you know that? She was gonna be an architect." She said pulling a cigarette and lighter out of her blazer pocket. Brewster didn't see a point in stopping her. She brought it to her lips and lit it as she continued. "She always liked the skyscrapers, you know, the glass ones? She liked how, when the sun was settin', you could see the reflection in the buildings like some fancy mirror. She thought it was real pretty. If I had a dollar for every time she dragged me down to Hudson Yards just to watch the sun set on the buildings..." She took a long puff. "She wanted to go round Manhattan and gentrify the whole place so it was like a big fancy mirror for the sunset. It was all she talked about sometimes. But she can't do that now, can she. Because that son of a bitch killed her." She stated matter-of-factly, tapping ash onto the table. She again turned her attention to the fly, still hitting the glass, again, and again, and again.