Uncle Byron was in his office when Manda came to the police station the next morning, much to her relief. She didn't think she'd like to face Devlin again after last night. Uncle Byron was still dressed the same clothes as yesterday, only this time his shirt was wrinkled all over, and his tie hung loose around his neck. She still felt sorry for him. It didn't make her feel better when her father was the prime suspect. She felt as if she had betrayed her uncle, even though she believed her father was innocent.
But to her annoyance, Devlin was there, too. However, he looked neat, and ready to face the day. His shirt and gray suit were neatly pressed. His black shoes were shiny as if they had been polished until the brush had worn out. Either that, or maybe he had a closet full of new shoes with the same style. Didn't Uncle Byron say Devlin had connections?
Her father was in the interrogation room, waiting for the arrival of the attorney who would be defending him. She had been told by Uncle Byron that her father's younger brother, Uncle Connor, Manda's flesh and blood uncle, was out of country. He was the family criminal lawyer. Manda hadn't seen him for quite a while, but he never failed to visit them during holidays. He had a nice apartment in Manhattan. Like her father, Uncle Connor was a widow, too. But the similarities ended there. While her father kept throwing himself into cases since her mother's death, her uncle still went out on dates. Just casually, he had once told her during a dinner on Easter holidays.
As she stepped into the dreary gray interrogation room, she was struck with a pang by her father's appearance. His strong angular face was haggard. Combined with his five o'clock shadow, he looked like a vagrant. The lines on his face had deepened. His sapphire eyes, usually full of vigilance, were now filled with exhaustion and sorrow. In fact, he looked defeated -- like a man whose life had been drained out of him. Her heart couldn't help going out for him. He was dressed in orange overall -- a standard cell uniform.
She immediately hugged him when she entered the interrogation room.
"How are you doing, Dad?" she asked him in concern.
"I'll live." He gave a rueful smile.
The chief left to give them some privacy. When he had gone, Manda turned to her father.
"What really happened, Dad? Uncle Byron told me you were arrested for Aunt Wilma's murder." She looked at him incredulously.
Last night, she had tossed and turned in her sleep, wondering what the future would hold for her father. She still couldn't grasp the fact of him being arrested.
"I don't even know it myself." He sighed, running his fingers through his unkempt black hair. His hair was slightly grayed at the temples.
"What? You don't know what you were doing in the park?"
He looked at her in hesitation. "Why are you interested? I didn't think you'd care..."
"Why not?"
"I know I wasn't always there for you. I've forgotten my little girl has grown up now."
She swallowed a lump in her throat. She was bursting to lament all her ache that he had unknowingly brought her all these years... but words seemed to dissolve at the tip of her tongue.
"Why should you worry? Uncle Byron and Aunt Wilma..." her voice faltered at the latter name, "...they had been taking care of me."
"Ah, yes, Wilma..." he said mournfully. He turned around to face the dual-pane glass window that was facing a red brick wall. "She was a good friend. How's Byron doing at the moment?"
"Not too great himself. Assistant Chief Devlin wanted him out of this murder case."
"For once, I agree with him. Byron would take the case as a personal matter."
"What's going to happen, Dad? Uncle Byron is out of the case, and Uncle Connor is not here. No one's here to help you clear your name."
He turned around with a bitter smile.
"Your faith in me is admirable... after all the way I've treated you."
She turned away carefully, taking her gaze toward the aged white metal table. Flecks of paint were already peeling at the corners and around the edges.
"It's just... I don't want to lose you. After Mom died..."
"You're not going to lose me," he put in, a little harshly.
She looked at him in surprise.
He sighed deeply. "Sorry about that, Manda. I know the situation looks bleak right now. Maybe after the court appointed me an attorney, I might have a chance to defend myself."
"But you haven't told me what you were doing last night at the park."
"It's not what you might think. Wilma had called me at the office yesterday afternoon. She'd sounded distressed... that's not like her. She said she wanted to talk to me about something, but she didn't say what. Anyway, I told her I could come to her house and talk, but she suggested to meet at the park at eleven that night."
"Why didn't she talk about her problem to Uncle Byron?"
"That's what I've been asking myself all this time."
"So, you went to the meeting, and...?"
"And she was there... lying on the ground." He swallowed.
"She was already... dead?" Manda controlled her voice from shaking. Poor Aunt Wilma.
"There was blood all over her... Are you sure you want to hear this?" He must have noticed her horror-stricken face.
"Yeah... I can handle it." I hope.
"She was stabbed... all over. I went to look closer but something knocked me out from behind before I could do anything. I don't know how long I've been out, but when I came to, the cops had just arrived, and I was holding my knife in my hand."
"Your knife?"
"You know... my collection of Jambiyas from my study. But I knew I never brought one with me last night." His shoulders sagged as he finally took a seat on a red vinyl chair.
"So, whoever knocked you out could have been the murderer," she murmured thoughtfully.
Her father gave a melancholic smile. "You're thinking like a detective. It would be good if you'd make a good practice in this case."
"Dad, just drop it. I've already told you I don't want to pursue... that anymore. Besides, once you get an attorney, and when the police finds the real killer, you'll be free."
She knew she sounded... uncaring, but the subject was getting close to home. Her father looked at her in disappointment that she'd almost wanted to cry and flee. Instead of enrolling into the FBI Academy, she had gone to Greenwood University -- making a clear point that she didn't want to be a detective or an FBI agent... after one fateful night. It only ruins people's lives.
The door suddenly burst open before she could think further. Devlin entered the room with a distinguished-looking middle-aged man standing behind him.
"What's he doing here?" Her father frowned at the second man.
Manda knew the man. James Foster, her father's rival during his years in high school. From what her father had told her, Foster was a bully. He came from one of the wealthiest families in Apple Point. In school, he was an A-student, but he liked to pick on the 'little people' just to insult them. Sometimes her father had to defend them against Foster. Her father hardly told her about his high school life. He'd only told her bits and pieces of his past life when she had asked them about it. Otherwise, he would keep his mouth shut.
"Hello, Blake." James gave a snide smile. His dark eyes glinted maliciously. "I'm ecstatic to meet you in this circumstances."
"Well, I'm glad I don't have to make an introduction," Devlin spoke up.
"What's he talking about?" Mr. Rider asked him suspiciously.
"Mr. Foster would be your attorney, Mr. Rider."
"That's right, Blake. I'll be glad to make this process short and sweet."
In the far distance at the back of her mind, Manda could almost hear the sound of breaking glass
