Hide and Seek

24 hours...

The metal gate clanked and screeched open, letting in a woman in her official uniform. The prisoner looked up from her curled-up position in the corner. The combined pungent smell of the old sink and toilet filled the guard's nostrils and she had to hold her breath.

"Someone is here to see you," she said to the prisoner.

The prisoner sniffed and used her hands to slowly raise herself up. She dragged her feet to the gate and held out her hands. The guard handcuffed her and pulled her out. Her eyes were bloodshot and crusty, drooping and swollen. She had a bruise forming on her cheek from being punched by one of the inmates. Her lips were white and cracked, inconspicuous drops of blood lining each crack.

The door to the visiting room swung open and she was uncuffed and shoved in. The visitor remained seated as the prisoner stepped in front of him. Her eyebrows were raised just a bit, the only indication of her surprise.

The visitor's eyes analysed her as she sat down, his wrinkled face free from expression. One hand was on his walking stick, the other resting on his knee. He leaned forward and cocked his head to the side.

"Zahara," he spoke. His voic was husky from age and an illness which caused him to cough a lot.

The prisoner blinked at him and her lips parted slightly, wanting to respond, but she shut them and continued to stare.

"I heard you denied the accusations to the end." The old man continued. "Zahara, you were given a chance to confess and ask for forgiveness yet you continued to deny everything even as you were dragged to your prison cell. Will lying change anything? Will lying make the crime, or guilt go away?"

"F-father," She croaked.

"You lost the right to call me that when you murdered my son." He seethed.

"Mr Levi," she swallowed. "I said it on the day he died. I said it at his funeral. I said it at the trial. I'm saying it again. It was not me. I did not kill Ezra." Hot tears streamed down her dry cheeks. "He was the love of my life, the only person who has ever truly loved me. Why would I do that to him?"

"Why does the evidence point to you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" He leaned back into his chair. "You call yourself a police officer and you don't know?"

"That night... the night he died... we were supposed to come to you. He told me to get ready for dinner with you. He was going to introduce us to each other officially."

"Then?"

"I'm blank from there. I can't remember anything else."

"You think I believe that?"

"He received a phone call when I went into the shower. I couldn't make out who it was, or what it was about. But he sounded annoyed."

"And you think this mystery called has something to do with it?"

"I don't know."

"Of course." He rolled his eyes.

"When I went back downstairs he had a bottle of wine. He said it had come from The Vine and wanted us to taste it. So, I got two glasses and we tasted it. I passed out then, and when I woke up... he was like that."

"So, you're saying there was something in the wine?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe."

"I'm the one who sent that wine."

"I know that all of this sounds crazy right now. But if you give me some time, I can prove my innocence and find out who truly did this. The real killer is out there."