Tweetie

54

"This has to be some sort of joke."

"I'm sorry, Robin..." Roderick shook his head, talking to the detective while they were alone in the stairwell of the apartment building. There were sounds coming from every corner, something that was particularly off-putting to Robin who was so used to the silence that lingered there for years, it felt as if it was another realm entirely. Dust floated around, lifted as officers walked around, lifting things for clues. There weren't many, the select few Roderick trusted. But it was enough to fill the place with too much rumbling life.

"What happened?" She asked, stepping past him to look at the state of her home. He followed after her. "I wasn't gone that long, I don't understand how this happened."

"Me neither. Archie called after he got back. He said he went to the shop to buy sugar and in the time it took him to get there and back, they must have come in. Fifteen minutes there and back would be plenty of time. I'm so sorry, Robin. I told you it would be safe here but that clearly wasn't the case."

"No," she shook her head, realising the man felt guilty when he definitely shouldn't have. "I should have expected something like this."

Then, she was at her apartment door, looking in through the doorway hesitantly, her movements stiff as she peered in and looked past the police officers who went back and forth. If they were going to find any trace of who she was, it would take a year to do through the mess of the place.

Everything was flipped. Her coffee table, partially made of glass, was shattered on the ground. Her couch was torn apart and pushed backwards. The stacks of boxes filled with files and work were toppled again, the papers coating the entirety of the floor along with broken mugs, plates, and bowls.

The work that was on her wall beside the window was gone too, likely in the mess that was on the ground. And instead, it was replaced with red. She hoped it was paint.

'No turning back'

"We don't know what it means," Roderick said, catching Archie's eye who stood on the opposite side of the room looking over the damage before approaching. She didn't even want to see her bedroom. "But we're certain it's only paint."

She only shook her head and stepped further in, taking care not to step on the glass or anything she deemed important. Even her book collection was on the ground, pages face down and spines cracked.

"I know what it means."

This only complicated things further. Any theories she had before, they were dust in the wind now. She couldn't figure out left from right. When she thought she was getting somewhere, found a viable suspect, that same guy walked by her seemingly oblivious all while this mess was being made. It didn't make sense. Ricky couldn't have gotten from the South to her apartment, it took at least an hour and she got the call about this not even five minutes after he passed. It wasn't possible.

"We're tracking everything we can from the damage done here, any fingerprints we find, the knife used to cut the couch, footprints, anything. We'll let you know if we find anything from that."

She nodded, rubbing her eyes exhaustively.

"-Hazel."

"Archie."

She turned to the accented voice in front of her. And there he was, looking more exhausted than she had seen him look in a long time.

It seemed the case had impacted them both massively. And quietly, he opened his arms and allowed her to take a hug when she seemed like she most desperately needed one.

She really did.

"I'm so sorry, Hazy." He shook his head as he patted her shoulders, "I shouldn't have left. I must have forgotten to lock the door or something, I don't know. I'm sorry."