The list of sinners

...Donovan...

I was staying in the main hall, holding onto some of the evidence responses, marked from the Cameroon block. Alongside them, I noted some questions that I could have. The idea of re-taking testimonies was weighing heavily on me. I still didn't feel familiar with the case at hand... as a detective, we were taught to observe everything from words to gestures that individuals could make. I was vigilant, and that was a bonus for me.

"This case came up, and my career is at risk."

I started rubbing my eyes and leaned back in my chair. The office was engulfed in a quiet meditation. I raised my eyes to the ceiling as if seeking answers in that white alcove. I noticed that I had pushed myself beyond limits.

"I need a short break", I said, pushing the notebook further.

Perhaps due to the scolding my mother had given me since elementary school, I had learned to rest but never to give up. I got up from the chair and headed towards finding a coffee machine nearby. At the end of the corridor, there was one, and I hoped it was available. I didn't have time for chit-chat.

Often, I was called cold and too distant at the beginning of conversations or even in forming connections. Perhaps due to the things I had gone through, I had become as cold as the surrounding mountains of Norway. I pressed the coffee option and leaned against the machine, waiting for the coffee as a lifesaver. I felt steps coming from behind my back. Without even opening my eyes, I let the person approach and speak to me.

"Good morning?"

"Yes, chief Campbell?"

"Coffee again?"

"I need it", I replied shortly.

"I understand. How does it look?"

"At the moment, we have exchanged information with Sinkler. The thing I don't like is that we are still talking hypothetically. We don't have a lead yet."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I'm starting to feel that questioning the individuals again is a good idea. I mean, there might be something their conscience would declare, or they might have forgotten something."

"After all, they have our contact, Mayfire. If there was something that would help us, they would cooperate."

"I'm not used to working with others, sir... beyond the respect I have for my colleagues. I'm used to flying solo, plus my absence in taking testimonies is a setback for me."

"I know that, Mayfire, but life throws us challenges that we might not even consider ourselves. Consider it a test. I want to show you how capable you are."

I felt the touch of my boss's hand on my shoulder. I saw that hand urging me on. It was filled with paternal love and somewhere, with a hint of a threat to my career. It was a touch of a father who wanted his son to make him proud. That touch reminded me of my father. I missed his touch and the support he gave me as the child I was. His departure from this life not only extinguished many passions I had, along with him. My mother took everything into her hands, that time, and raised us, my brother and me. Since then, I had become a different person.

I left with the coffee in hand, and the sooner I met Cameroon, the better. I was exhausted beyond measure, not from lack of sleep since, let's say, I had gained some immunity from that, but from standing idle not knowing where to start. I descended to the first floor to check on Cameroon. As always, he was ten minutes late. Besides that, I couldn't blame his age; not that I was old, but I understood his type and his liking for the nightlife. He was a laid-back guy, and now and then I teased him by asking what on earth a guy like him had to do with the police?

"Good morning, Sincler."

"Are you upset, aren't you ?"

"No," I replied shortly. "I want you to do me a favor. Talk to the recordings division, and I want them to clarify Rebecca Simons's recent conversations."

"I'll head there now."

"You have me in the main hall as always."

I hoped that hope in those conversations would save us, or this would be the failure of the year. I didn't know how long it had been since we delved into Rebecca's phone conversations. We were keeping notes and listening attentively. There wasn't anything new in the talks of a student. Conversations with her family, who had distanced themselves, and even conversations with other students about exams and such.

"Oh, my God!"

Cameroon was no longer himself. He had become a burden for the chair, and his blonde hair had all gone awry. I stood leaning on the chair, nervously shaking my leg.

"This is a mess."

The door to the room was opened by officer Burke, a officer who quickly became a detective in the homicide division.

"You two look drunk. You're a mess with your clothes and hair. Have you seen the time?"

"Barely", said Cameroon, holding the pencil between his nose and lips.

"The shift ends very soon, boys, it's best to go home and rest your weary heads, straight into the shower and sleep like never before."

"I doubt the latter", I said, running my fingers through my hair.

"Leave the recordings to me, I will deliver them."

"Thank you, Burke."

We left the office and I started to rub my back. I shrugged and was followed by Cameroon.

"It's best for us to go home and sleep as if there were no tomorrow", said Cameroon, patting me on the back.

"Sounds good to me."