Fort Oakley | Part One

9 | Standing Ovation for Claire, the Queen of Doing Nothing

The scratch of the pencil across the page did little to calm my nerves as I developed a composite sketch of the second man. They wanted to bring in a forensic artist, but Sheriff Lucien had told them that it wouldn't be necessary.

The events of earlier were on a constant loop in my head as I stared down at the sketch.

What would have happened if they caught me? Would they have done to me what they did to Lieutenant Roscoe—weigh me down with rocks in my clothes, throw my unconscious body in a river and wait for me to drown? Or would they have killed me on the spot, leaving my body there to rot among the dead leaves?

"Are you sure this is what they looked like?" an officer from out of town asks as he examines the sketches I give to him.

"I think I would remember the faces of two men who were moments away from killing me, sir."

I could tell the officer didn't really want to be here, but I would feel the same way if Lieutenant Andino was looking at me like I killed his dog.

Ever since Fin confirmed that he hit Jacey, I couldn't look at him the same way and had to constantly stop myself from looking at him disgust.

I didn't know what his problem was today, but he had been scowling at the officer since he and several other units arrived from Clement.

Several officers who Lieutenant Roscoe had been in contact with in Clement had been called in, and they were all giving our officers information about the case.

Lieutenant Roscoe was in a stable condition the last time Sheriff Lucien gave me an update, and the doctors at the hospital he was at were positive that he would make a full recovery.

A brand new pair of socks landed on my lap, and I looked up at Sheriff Lucien, who then dripped a pair of flip flops on the ground beside my chair. "Put them on. The shoes belong to Officer Sanders. She's the only person here who has the same foot size as you, and they're the only extra shoes she had in her locker. They're fairly new and she doesn't mind."

When the paramedics arrived at the river, they wanted to take me to the hospital with Lieutenant Roscoe, but I insisted I was fine so they gave me a thermal blanker, not having time to argue with me since Lieutenant Roscoe had been in critical condition.

Sheriff Lucien brought me back to the station, where he have me clean, dry, police-issued clothes to change into.

I wasn't cold anymore, but the look on his face as he stood beside me was enough for me to pull on the socks and slide me feet into the flip flops. It looked ridiculous, but I knew Sheriff Lucien didn't care about that.

I nodded to the sketches the other officer was examining. "That's what they looked like. The notes on the side just describe how tall they are and stuff like that. Anything that can help you guys identify them."

Sheriff Lucien shot me a sideways glance as he took the sketches from the officer. "You know, if the Picasso gig doesn't do it for you anymore, I think you should consider joining the police academy once you graduate. You showed a lot of potential today, Charly, and I think you'd be a great asset to any department."

I laughed, unsure how to respond. "Thank you Sheriff, I'll definitely consider it."

He was about to say something else when something caught his eye over my shoulder. I turned my head, spotting Elvin waiting at the front of the police station, face filled with worry.

Sheriff Lucien caught me rolling my eyes as I turned back. "Can I give you a ride home, Charly?" he asks, knowing what happened at the senior hangout.

"Yes, please."

↟↟↟

"Sheriff?"

"Yeah, Charly?"

"Do you think what happened to Kinsey Abrams and today's events could be related?" I ask as Sheriff Lucien drives me back to the house.

He releases a heavy breath, sounding tired. "I honestly don't know, Charly. Maybe."

When Sheriff Lucien pulls up to the start of Claire's driveway, we see Elvin standing right at the edge of it, careful not to step onto it because that would mean he was technically in the woods.

I didn't know how he had arrived here before us since he was on foot but I didn't really care either.

I had no intention of forgiving him for what he did. I didn't care about the possible cheating, even though I probably should have.

I cared more about the fact that he had caused me physical harm. Sure, a light bruise on my wrist was probably not that bad, but if he could do that and not feel bad about it, what else was he capable of doing?

"If you want him to leave, we can make it happen, Charly," Sheriff Lucien says, staring at Elvin through the window.

"It's okay, Sheriff. Claire is home, and he's too scared of the woods to follow me up to the house. Besides, you have enough problems at the station to go deal with, I'm not going to put my problems on you as well."

"Come on, Charly. You know you'd never be a problem to me."

"I know, Sheriff, but I can deal with Elvin on my own."

Sheriff Lucien sighed in frustration. "Fine."

Once Sheriff Lucien leaves, the tension in the air picks up as soon as Elvin opens his mouth. "We need to talk, Charly. What the hell is going on between us? I'm worried sick about you the entire day, and all you can do is ignore me."

I drop the plastic bag full of my damp clothes on the ground, spinning around to face him.

"Do not put this on me, Elvin. I'm not the one at fault here, you are. And it's because you don't see that, that I never want to be near you again. You physically hurt me at the hangout, Elvin, and you don't even feel about about it—"

"Stop yelling at me, Charly," he interrupts, his voice low but I can't stop now.

"And you didn't even look guilty about whatever is going on between you and Willa! But when it's me doing something wrong—"

"I said stop yelling at me!" Pain blooms across my cheek form where he slapped me. I lift my hand to my burning skin, wincing at how sensitive it is. I blink, staring at Elvin in shock as I try to comprehend what he just did.

I notice Claire standing in the driveway, staring at us with a blank expression.

Was she not going to say anything? Do anything?

"You want me to stay with him?"

When she doesn't respond, I nod.

Tears forming in my eyes, I pick up my bag of clothes and walk past them.

"You know what," I say, my voice shaky as I turn around to look at them. "You're both pathetic."

I walk up to the house and lock myself in my room, sliding down against the door as the tears fall.

I hug my knees to my chest, silent sobs racking my body as I cry.

I reach for the pendant around my neck, my fingers seeking the familiar comfort of the only tangible link to my birth mother—the one who didn't want me.

The pendant had always been a solace, a small piece of my past I could cling to in times of distress. But when my hand finds only bare skin, my heart breaks a little further.

The realization hits me right in the chest.

I had the pendant on this morning, since I never took it off, but I must have lost it during the frantic run through the woods.

Now, the last remnant of my childhood was lost, leaving me feeling even more disconnected than before.