Forget Me Not

Wednesday (chapter 1)

"Ugh, I should've called a taxi or uber before leaving her place."

"Oh hey, Mabel's Café! Thank god, I can take a break from all that walking."

Nearing the café to maybe take a seat and to definitely get a cab, I hear footsteps behind me. I'm normally not all that scared of some loner taking a walk, but it's nearing 4am and no one knows my location.

With that said I am nowhere near sober and in heels, but I start to walk faster. The person behind me must've noticed the change of pace because they do the same. As if trying to chase, and a game of cat and mouse this late — or early? haha — is not my type of show, so I speed up again.

Maybe that was my grandest mistake. I'm no saint nor am I a true sinner, but I must've pissed off some deity that day as just like that...the sound of a click and fire of a gun hits my ears.

And my world goes silent.

~ ♠️ ~ ♠️ ~

"You're sure no trace of the murderer was left behind?" the young women asked me, definitely on the verge of tears. She — Annie Golnaza — claimed to be the victims best friend. Her hands, resting in her lap, clasp one half of a heart necklace even tighter.

"For now yes, there wasn't anything expect her body and her belongings."

Not to come off harsh, but I really got to stop underestimating how much I hate this part of my job. People are way too complex. I'd rather be on the field looking for clues. Not consoling someone clouded by their grief.

Hell, I'm not the loved ones or even lawyers who are supposed to be doing that.

Almost as if hearing my internal struggle Mason, my trusty right-hand man, walks up behind me. His steps light despite the grim mood of the interrogation room.

"I know it's hard, but we'll get to the bottom of it. All you and your pretty face has to worry about is how much you gotta pay for a funeral!" Laughter clings like a vice to every word that leaves his lips.

And okay, maybe I overestimated how helpful he'd be. I shouldn't let this mess of a man speak to people either.

Despite the awfully timed joke, Golnaza giggles in turn, "/////// would say the same thing." Right before I have to listen to Mason spill even more nonsense, and somehow obtain another number to his everlasting contact list, the name of the victim finally strikes a cord in me. Like some shitty song.

"If you don't mind, would you repeat her name? The full name."

Even though I manage not to stutter, it comes out more nervous than I hoped. I can feel Mason's eyes linger when they shift to me as the words settle into the room. There goes any hope of not worrying him.

"Huh?" Golnaza must've heard it too as she seems to hesitate before answering. On purpose or by sheer shock is something I probably won't find out. "I said it was Phoenix. Phoenix Tanha."

It's certainly not a common name by any means. One that sticks to the air like smoke and burns as if it wants the attention it being said will bring. I swore I read the autopsy enough times to stain such a name into my short term — maybe even long term — memory, yet there it is. Standing proud and sure even after the holder is laid to rest.

It feels familiar though and that's all the cue I need to shoot a look at Mason. Those bright green eyes still hang onto my figure like they've been glued there, so he picks up on what I'm putting down pretty fast.