Murders Of The Past

EIGHTEEN

"NO, NO, I know. But I have to see first. They might not even have it... Vivian, trust me, I'll find it. Just calm down. I-- Um... I'm gonna call you back."

  "Hey!" My eyes shoot open and I push myself off the door, looking up but having to cover my eyes because there's a glowing light trying to blind me. "Why are you sitting on my porch?" The man's voice asks and I look down at the concrete porch I've been napping on for what feels like days. I burp.

  "Wesley?" I yawn, stretching my arms above my head.

  "How do you know my name?"

  "Oh good." I stand up, twisting my back. "Finally, you're here! If I sat on this ground any longer I would've gained back problems!" I grab my suitcase and turn to the door. "Oh, uh, do you have any wine?" I look back at him, finally able to make out his chestnut brown eyes that are looking at me in amazement.

  "Wait, wait." He squints at me, leaning forward. "Caroline?" Caroline. That's right. I let out a chuckle, nodding.

  "Yeah."

  "What are you doing here? How did you..."

  "What time is it?" I yawn again.

  "I haven't seen you in... years."

  "Six, I think." My eyes widen. "Oh my god!" I frown. "I'm so old!" I spin around to walk into the house, but bump into the door. I huff. "Could you unlock this please?"

  "How long have you been here? What are you doing here?"

  "I'll answer your questions," I glance at him, "After you open this door." He sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a key. I take it and jab it into the hole, turning and opening the door. As I step into the house, I roll my eyes at myself.

  "Why didn't I just break in?" I shake my head. "I mean I'm Sadie Bane."

  "I wouldn't advise that." I hear Wesley say. I turn to him. He closes the door and walks past me, into the kitchen where I follow him.

  "Do you have wine?" I ask as he sets grocery bags down on the brown table.

  "Is that why you're here?" He turns to me, putting one hand on his hip and the other on the table. "To get wine?"

  "Well..." I shrug. "Are you going to stop me from drinking wine?" He narrows his eyes, studying me.

  "No..."

  "Then yes." I nod. He stares at me for a while, until I can't take it anymore and grab one of the bags he carried in.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm hungry," I tell him, shuffling through the bag to find something good. "I haven't eaten since..." I stop, thinking back to earlier. "What time is it?" I look at him. He lifts his wrist to look at his silver watch.

  "Four twenty-two."

  "PM?"

  "PM." He nods. I blink, my mind going back to my kids, to Adam, to my sister, to Carlos, who were last seen at the hospital looking for me. At two PM.

  "Seriously, where's your wine?" I blurt out, starting to feel anxious. I know Carlos has blown up my phone. I don't even have to look. I just know. They're going to be so mad at me... if they ever find me.

  "Are you-- "

  "I prefer red wine, but white is cool too."

  "Uh, OK." Wesley turns around to a cupboard, opening it. Growing impatient, I open the fridge, scanning my eyes over everything. When I don't find anything I huff, slamming the fridge shut and running my hand through my hair.

  "Are you okay?" I look at Wesley who's watching me warily.

  "Perfect." I spin around and walk into the living room, plopping onto the green couch and looking out the window, biting my fist.

  Not long after, Wesley comes over and stands in front of me.

  "I have a few questions," he starts, his eyes burning through my skull. I keep my eyes on the window. "But first, are you okay?" I roll my eyes, huffing.

  "I'm just really hungry," I tell him. "And I was sitting on that porch for like two hours, with no cushion. Just concrete. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?"

  "I can imagine-- "

  "And I still don't have wine!" I perk up. "Do you have wine?" I finally look at him.

  "What is your obsession with wine?"

  "Just answer the question. Do. You. Have-- popo?" My gaze falls on his black button up, black pants, and golden badge. "Why you dressed like the popo?" I bring my eyes back up to his. "You the popo?" I rise to my feet, raising a brow.

  "Uh, yeah." He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm the... uhm popo." I stare at him for a minute.

  "Why are you a cop?" I ask, shaking my head. "You don't want to be a cop, you want to play basketball!" I exclaim. He shrugs.

  "People change, Cal." At that, I sit back down on the couch, feeling tired.

  "Yeah," I murmur, "They do."

  "And anyway, my dad was a cop." My head snaps up and I roll my eyes.

  "Wesley, that's ridiculous! You shouldn't follow in your dad's footsteps, you should-- " Suddenly, I'm reminded of my own dad and life. I took over his gang. "Never mind."

  "It's fine. I like it."

  "Do you?" I look up at him through my eyelashes.

  "Yeah," he nods. "So what about you? What do you do?"

  "No clue." I shake my head and he laughs. "Oh, wait. I do. I drink wine." Wesley chuckles.

  "Alright, tell you what. I'll call Vivian over and have her grab you some wine." I slide off the couch and onto my knees, lifting my arms in the air, bowing to him.

  "Thank you, Wesley! Thank you!"