Jack of My Heart

Thank You For Being a Friend

When the elevator doors close I let out a groan. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I pull up Chuck's number and ask if I can come over for cold pizza and football. Without any hesitation she agrees and I tell her I'll meet her soon.
I've known Chuck since the fifth grade where we immediately became best friends and stayed that way for fifteen years.
The elevator door opens and I step out, finding my bike in the courtyard. It stopped raining when Laney drove me back from the police station, but who knows how long it will stay like that. After unlocking my bike, I ride it to Chuck's apartment, trying to forget that a murder had just occurred there and what resulted from it.

"Hey, Jackie!" Chuck opens the door and gives her open-armed greeting with a huge grin.
"Chucky, you remember the beer?" I hold up the bag of chips I grabbed from the store on my way over.
"Did I remember the—you think this fridge has ever had the problem of needing beer?" Chuck laughs.
"I had to ask, I had to ask," I throw my hands up as I walk inside, taking off my jacket and setting down the chips.
"Shouldn't you be studying? I mean, you have school tomorrow, right?" She asks, sauntering over to her fridge to get us some drinks.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? It makes me feel like I'm in middle school again," I groan, plopping down on the couch.
"I'm just teasing you. Who else is asking?" She pokes her head around the fridge door.
"My boss." I take the bottle from her hands as she sits down next to me.
"Who, the creepy one?" Chuck shudders, "I don't like that guy, he gives me major serial killer vibes."
"What? Who are you talking about?" I frown.
"You know, the one that's always staring at you. Tall, scary, probably a vampire or something," Chuck cracks open her beer, downing some of the amber liquid.
"Vincent's not creepy, and he doesn't stare at me," I roll my eyes and take a long swig.
"Right, sure. 'Cause he definitely does it while you're looking," Chuck shoots back.
"Listen, just because you took one of those online college classes about the history of serial killers doesn't make you an expert."
Chuck laughs and turns up the volume on her TV. The quarterback makes a handoff and our running back sprints down the field, dancing around other players like it's an opera, leaping as the defense grabs for his feet. Chuck's and my cheers grow louder and louder, standing up slowly, then exploding with joy when he makes it into the end zone with a somersault. Springing to his feet and throwing down the ball he gives a victory dance, his team surrounding him and batting his helmet. Chuck and I clink our bottles, then raise them to the TV with a small nod.
"So, what happened earlier? You said you thought I was dead, but you never said why." Chuck reminds me, glancing every now and then to the kicker, getting ready to punt the football.
"There was a murder a few floors above you. They told me that there was someone calling for help and trying to give their address, but they didn't finish,"
"And you thought it was me?" She raises an eyebrow while taking a drink.
"Yeah, I know. It's not that I think you couldn't fight back, I just got worried," I cross my arms and my fingers as the kicker's leg gets closer to the ball. He makes the field goal and Chuck and I take a minute to give a whoop.
"Thanks, but if an intruder ever comes into my home, I'm not gonna be the one calling 911," Chuck boasts, puffing out her chest. I laugh and pick up a chip, allowing myself to relax and enjoy the game.

The bell dings as I enter the coffee shop, glancing around for Detective Danowitz. I have an hour and a half till my first class, so I'll have to make this quick. He seems to be nowhere in sight, so I sit at the counter, ordering an iced coffee and opening my textbook to finish some notes.
"Alright, I did some digging, and I found out that it was actually just one witness that went missing," Danowitz says when he sits down, drawing me out of my studies.
"Only one?" I frown, adjusting my glasses. Maybe it wasn't them.
"I've been trying to pull the records, but I'm not getting anywhere. Maybe your friend would have some influence," Jacob sneers. He's actually more helpful than I thought.
"Yes, thank you. So you don't know the name of the witness?" I try to keep the disappointment from my face.
"No, but I've heard rumors that it was a kid. Around five or six that witnessed a murder and knew something. But that's just a rumor. Say, why are you so interested in this? It's a cold case," He takes a drink of his coffee, still keeping his eyes on me.
"Personal reasons," I give a tight-lipped smile.
"And I'm asking what those are," He looks very suspicious.
"I just... I thought I knew the two witnesses, but- hang on, did you say a kid?" I frown, eyes widening.
"Just a rumor," He shrugs, taking another drink. My mind whirs as I try to puzzle it out. Could I be the witness? Am I the reason my parents are—
"Thank you, Detective. This is really helpful. I have to go, but call me if you or the police need anything," I tell him, picking up my coat and iced coffee.
"Oh, Captain Singer wanted me to give you this," He calls. I turn around and he slips thirty dollars into my palm. Looking up from the money I meet his gaze and he winks, closing my fist and patting it.
"Who is it?" I ask.
"A psychiatrist. Terry Halobrit. We're still questioning her, but we call her The Shrink," Danowitz sounds proud of the serial killer name.
"You know that just encourages them, right? But I get it, the Shrink, psychiatrist, shrinks heads. Very clever," I over correct.
"Yeah, yeah. You just ruined it," Danowitz grumbles, turning back to the counter. I laugh it off and head out, braving the cold on my way to campus.