"Again, I have no idea of my mother's whereabouts. I am reporting the vandalism of my vehicle. Why are we talking about Maribela?" I ask, irritation creeping into my voice.
The taller officer's jaw ticks. "Your mother..."
"Let me stop you right there. I have no contact with Maribela Santos Sandoval. I'm aware she's escaped custody, but I have no knowledge or interest in her whereabouts. Can we get back to my vandalized vehicle?"
The taller one raises his hands slightly. "Ma'am, if you could calm down so.."
I cut my eyes to the shorter one, whose badge reads Det. Lorrey. "Sir, I will not be condescended to. I'm the victim here. I'll provide a statement related to the damage to my vehicle. What I will not do is be spoken to in a patronizing or disrespectful manner. And I will not engage in questions about my estranged mother."
The taller officer tries again. "Ma'am.."
"No. I'm done speaking to you," I say, voice clipped. "Why are two detectives here for what should've been a patrol unit's call? Seems like overkill for vandalism."
The taller one's mouth twitches. "Ms. Flores.."
"Suficiente, he terminado de hablar contigo. Mi nombre es Sra. Flores o Sra. Sandoval Flores. Tu idiota titulado irrespetuoso. Deja de hablarme," I snap. (Enough, I'm done talking to you. My name is Mrs. Flores or Mrs. Sandoval Flores. You disrespectful entitled idiot. Stop talking to me.)
"We're in America," he starts, tone shifting.
"If your next line is 'speak American,' I promise you'll be out of a job by morning," says a calm but cold voice from behind me. Ale steps into view, arms folded, his expression unreadable.
Off to the side, Stacia subtly raises her phone to begin recording.
"Sir, I need you to back away from our investigation," Det. Lorrey says, less confrontational.
"Investigation?" I ask. "What exactly are you investigating? This was a vandalism report. What is this?"
Lorrey opens his mouth to respond, but I wave a hand dismissively. "You know what? I'm not doing this."
"Ma'am," the tall one tries again.
"Ugh, ¿por qué estás siquiera hablando?" (why are you even talking?) I mutter, turning back to Lorrey. "If there are actual questions regarding the vandalism, you can ask them. Otherwise, we're leaving."
"We haven't even taken your statement," Lorrey says with an apologetic shrug.
"That sounds like a you problem," Ale replies, voice sharp for the first time. He moves closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go, Queenie."
We're walking away when a car door slams behind us. I glance back. A man is making his way toward us in a familiar sage green Henley and calm energy.
"Hey, Mara, are you okay? What happened?" he asks, concern in his voice.
"My car was vandalized," I say. "But these detectives are more interested in asking questions about my family than helping with the actual crime."
Feeling a hand clamp down on my shoulder, I turn.
"Quita tus manos. Ahora!," I say, slowly in a low tone. "No tienes derecho a tocarme." (Take your hands off. Now! You have no right to touch me.)
Ale stiffens beside me. Stacia's phone is angled now, clearly recording.
"Det. Quimby, is there a reason you are holding on to Mrs. Flores? You wouldn't happen to be harassing another person of color so soon after the last complaint would you," asks BT.
YOU ARE READING
Sweet Nothings
Mystery / ThrillerWhen betrayed by the two people she should have trusted most, a pregnant Xiomara Sandoval Flores doesn't fold; she exposes their deception and sets out to start over. But the shadows of betrayal follow her into her new life. Danger, deception, and...
