The low, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the first thing Emma's consciousness latched onto. It was a monotonous, yet comforting sound, a steady pulse in a world of fuzzy thoughts and blurred light.
As she slowly struggled to open her eyes, she was met with the harsh glare of the hospital's fluorescent lights. Her throat was dry, her body felt heavy and weak, and a dull, aching throb pulsed beneath the surface of her skin. She was lying in a bed, a thin sheet pulled up to her chest, the unfamiliar cotton scratching against her sensitive skin.
She turned her head to the right, her vision slowly clearing. She saw the tangle of tubes and wires connecting her to various machines, their soft hum a constant companion to the beeping. She was alive, but the experience felt alien and detached.
Her attention was drawn to a familiar Irish female voice speaking from the other side of the room. It was comforting, a gentle warmth in the cold, sterile air. "Don't you worry, Mr. and Ms. Pear, we are on the case now. And when Emma wakes up, we'll ask her a few more questions. Hopefully, that will be helpful in finding the culprit. We'll put the photos you found with the other evidence we've gotten."
Overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all, her eyes closed again. She heard the soft footfalls of the detective moving away from her bed, followed by a gentle hand brushing the hair off her forehead.
Emma recognized the touch; it was her mother. The hand lingered for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly.
"I'm still in shock that she went to a party without letting us know," her mother whispered, her voice thick with a raw despair that pierced through the haze in Emma's mind. "She told us she was only going to help some friends... she promised to be upfront with us. Now this all happens, and I can't help but feel to blame." Her mother sighed, her shoulders slumping before she removed her hand and let it fall heavily to her side.
Her father walked closer, placing a comforting hand on her mother's back. "There was no way either of us could have predicted something like this, dear."
She turned toward him, her body rigid with a quiet, seething anger. His hand fell to his side. She glared at him, her eyes welling with tears. "That's the problem! I should have been there... I should have known! I knew giving her more liberties was a bad idea, but I had to listen to you! It's like I don't even know how to raise my own daughter," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Her comment left him stunned, and as if unable to take the emotional weight any longer, she pushed past him and walked out of the room. Emma's father let out an awkward cough, a sound that seemed to fill the sudden silence. He looked at Lieutenant O'Connor and Chief Gates, both standing a few feet away. "Please excuse her. She's been on edge since Emma has been here."
Chief Gates gave a short, dismissive nod, but Lieutenant O'Connor gave him a sympathetic smile before pulling out her notepad and clicking her pen. "I'd still like to ask her a few questions, if I can. Has she woken up at all since the party?"
Chief Gates rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. He put a hand over hers, his gesture impatient and condescending, making her lower her hand. At that exact moment, Emma's eyes slowly opened and looked around.
"Ms. O'Connor, I really don't think that will be necessary," Gates said, turning to Emma's father.
His tone was dismissive, as if the case was already a foregone conclusion. "It was obviously a form of teenage rebellion gone terribly wrong. They found the drug in her system, and at the party. It's possible she took them herself and fell into the pool. We have all we need here." He glanced over at Emma, his eyes briefly meeting hers. She was clearly awake. A flash of panic—so quick Emma almost missed it—crossed his face before he quickly looked away and started heading to the door. "We may not even have to come back for her statement when she wakes up."
Emma's brow furrowed confused.
Why hadn't he notified the others that she was awake? He had looked right into her eyes. Mona O'Connor huffed, following after him and waving her notepad. "Ah, but sir, we've gotten a bit of intel from her friends. We think there might be two suspects, maybe a male and female. We need to know if Emma remembers anything significant about the culprits, even from those few minutes they were together."
Chief Gates turned back, his face a mask of annoyance. He put his hands on his hips and let out a long, heavy sigh. "I'm just saying there were a lot of drugs at that party. Her friends could have taken some and just imagined the whole thing. But of course, we will come back if we need to once she wakes up. Listen, I understand why you're so fixed on this case. I looked into your file. You moved here because of your husband's unsolved murder a year ago, but that has nothing to do with this case. Don't let your emotions get the best of you, and don't forget your place, Lieutenant. We are going now."
Mona's jaw clenched so hard she felt a sharp pain shoot through her teeth. The mention of her husband, a cruel, cold reminder of her past, was a low blow.
The reason she had moved here was to escape the shadow of that unsolved case, to start over and truly help people who couldn't help themselves. But all Chief Gates seemed to want to do was hold her back from solving this case. Why? What was his motive for so quickly dismissing what had happened to Emma Pear? He turned back around and walked out the door, leaving her standing alone with her pen and pad, her hands shaking slightly from the effort of holding her rage in check.
She looked back at Emma's father, who was still standing there, before running a frustrated hand through her red hair. Suddenly, his phone rang, startling them both. "Excuse me a moment, this is work," he said, his voice flat as he walked toward the bathroom with his phone in hand. He turned to face Ms. O'Connor, who had walked slightly closer to Emma's bedside. "You can let yourself out when you're ready. Thank you for your help these last weeks." He then walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Mona let out a sigh, putting her pen and pad back in her pocket. Looking down, she noticed Emma's eyes were open. She quickly pulled the pad and pen back out. She leaned down, her voice a low, urgent whisper that was barely audible over the hum of the machines.
"We don't have much time now, before the chief comes barging back in here," she said, her eyes flicking nervously toward the bathroom door. "And to be honest, I'm not sure we'll be coming back to question you at all. You don't have to speak, just nod for me... Did the person who threw you in the pool seem familiar in any way at all?"
Emma gave a weak, slow nod, a great effort for her tired body. Ms. O'Connor quickly wrote it down, her pen scratching against the paper. She took a quick look over her shoulder before moving on to the next question. "Did you think the person was taller than you? I know it's hard given the position you were found, but..."
Emma thought it over for a moment, the memory still fuzzy from the drugs. She pressed her eyes tightly, trying to bring the image into focus. She nodded her head.
"Do you think it's the same person who sent you the news clipping?"
Emma nodded again, and Ms. O'Connor wrote it down before standing up and looking over her notes. She met Emma's eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line of grim determination. "Do you feel that the chief is purposefully dismissing your case?"
She watched Emma's face closely as the girl gave a small, slow nod, a gasp catching in Ms. O'Connor's throat. She quickly put both items back in her pocket just as the chief stomped back into the room, his glare a physical weight.
"Come on, we are leaving now," he ordered, his voice a low growl.
Emma quickly closed her eyes, hoping he would think she had fallen back asleep. The chief looked between Ms. O'Connor and Emma. "She's still not awake anyway. We're wasting our time here."
Mona looked down at Emma one last time, her gaze filled with a mixture of sympathy and resolve, before walking toward him. She stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be catching these bastards, won't we, sir?"
He didn't reply right away, and her hand fell from his shoulder. He glanced back at her with a tight, cold smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course," he whispered, before walking out the door, leaving her frozen with uneasiness in her chest, questioning her trust in him completely.
Mia note- This is getting juicy fr lmao 🤣
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It Started With Hello
Romance***** Emma Pear knew she wasn't the most popular girl in high school. Her nose was usually buried in a textbook, and her grades were as spotless as her reputation for always following the rules. "Nerd" was a label she'd long since embraced. Her pare...
