This Means Love!

Chapter 1: Part 4

The police station was a stark, sunlit building, buzzing with the sounds of ringing phones and murmured conversations. Jason walked through the double doors, his face pale and drawn. Murli, the officer he had met at Mary’s funeral, greeted him with a solemn nod.

“Jason,” Murli said, gesturing toward a worn-out chair by his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Jason sat down, feeling a numb heaviness in his limbs. Murli observed him for a moment, his expression serious yet kind. He paused, allowing Jason a moment to adjust to the cold, impersonal setting.

Murli leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. “I know this is difficult,” he began, “but we need to talk about the case.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “The post-mortem report on Freddy came in. It confirmed that he was heavily under the influence of alcohol while driving.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, a mixture of anger and pain flashing across his face. Murli continued, “Because of this, you have the right to file charges against Freddy’s estate. You can pursue compensation, and it’s within your legal rights to do so.”

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor. The idea of pursuing compensation felt hollow. No amount of money could fill the void Mary had left in his life. He didn’t respond, so Murli pressed on.

“I should also tell you,” Murli added, leaning back in his chair, “that Freddy wasn’t exactly a well-liked man. His neighbors and even his own friends had problems with him. He borrowed money from a lot of people and never paid them back. He had a reputation for causing trouble.”

Jason sat silently, absorbing the information. His hands rested on his lap, his fingers trembling slightly. He knew his pain wasn’t unique, that Freddy had likely left destruction in his wake for many others. But revenge wasn’t what he wanted.

“I don’t want to file a complaint,” Jason said finally, his voice low and strained. “It won’t bring Mary back.”

Murli nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I understand,” he said softly. “It’s your decision.”

Jason took a breath, steadying himself. “But,” he continued, “could you give me Freddy’s address? I’d like to talk to his wife.”

Murli raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “You want to speak with her?” he asked.

Jason met his gaze, his eyes filled with a desperate need for closure. “Yes,” he replied. “I just need to understand… something.”

Murli hesitated, then opened a drawer and pulled out a file. He flipped through it, finally jotting down the address on a piece of paper. “Here you go,” he said, sliding it across the desk. “Just be careful. People grieve in different ways, and she might not be receptive.”

Jason nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket. He rose to his feet, feeling the weight of everything pressing on him. “Thank you, Murli,” he said.

Murli watched him go, the officer’s face etched with concern. “Take care of yourself, Jason,” he called out as Jason left the station, stepping back into the sunlight, a new and uncertain mission weighing on his heart.

Jason had many questions, but the important one gnawed at him relentlessly: Why hadn’t Anna even moved a muscle when her husband’s body was laid to rest? She had stood at the funeral with a face devoid of grief, her posture stiff, as though the death of her husband had meant nothing at all. Was she in shock, or was there something deeper, something darker, behind her cold demeanor?