The Coffee Shop On Dreary Lane

Crime Scene

It's dark in Eve's room, but the decor is bright. Most of it frilly and purple. The shelf on the wall holds several porcelain dolls. She has always enjoyed pretty objects. When she was a kid she picked out a purple stuffed animal, that she still sleeps with to this day. She picked it out with her father who she is, and has always been, close to.
"Can we get this please, daddy!?" A young Eve jumped up and down at the grocery store. Her father smiled.
"Of course sweetheart." Her father replied, smiling. Eve holds onto this memory with fondness, replays it in her head until it means nothing.  She is realizing that she'll never know the person her father is, or was.  Now his face is a permanent blank slate.  It hadn't mattered when she was younger where her father had gone.  She was out with her friends.
She is laying in her bed tossing and turning. It's almost the scheduled time to obtain the papers from her father's desk. She hasn't yet, and she already feels a nauseous rush of adrenaline, and guilt. It seems to be the only way that Reagan will believe that Embry hurt her father though, so it's fairly reasonable. Right?
Embry, blood pooling out of his hand after cutting it on something. Embry, who hit his head on something, attacking her father. At night, around 9:00. Embry breaking most of her father's ribs. She had to build his body back up again, her father's. It's mostly wire and metal now. But the wire of his stomach... she still does not know what brought it on. Yes it's reasonable to steal, for justice.
She tiptoes across the carpet and opens the creaky door.  Reagan is waiting in front of their door.
  Reagan begins to open their mouth as Eve holds a finger to her lips.  She slowly realizes that the footsteps she is hearing is just her heartbeat pounding in her head.  What if her father catches her?
  They make it to her father's desk.  It's made of expensive mahogany.  The papers must have some sort of order to them, however jumbled.  They begin searching, making sure the papers go in the exact position that they were made to be in before.
  "I'm sorry about before," Eve begins to apologize then gulps, "before all of this."
  "I know you're much better at this sort of thing.  Accepting apologies, comforting people.  But the appropriate thing to say is probably: it's okay," Reagan whispers back.
  "I think I found something.  Actually several things.  One says Embry on it, and another describes a crime scene," Eve says.
  The first paper describes Embry which Reagan reads aloud, "Embry Blake:
Height: 5'3
Weight: 148 pounds
Family:
Adoptee
Mother: Kim Blake
Mother: Leah Blake
Sister: Lillia Blake
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Gray-blue
Race: White
Mental illnesses: Cyclothymia, Grandiose delusions
Physical disability: None"
"I never knew he's an adoptee, or that he has Cyclothmia," Reagan adds.
  "What's Cyclothmia?"  Eve asks.
   "Similar to bipolar disorder, just not fitting the criteria for it," Reagan answers.
"Anyways, I'll read the other one.  It says:
  A man was seen being attacked at night outside of the apartment building in the Hills.  He was tall and olive-skinned.  The young man attacking punched his ribs first, then broke both of his arms.  The man attacking had two places of injury, his forehead and hand.  This occurred around nine o'clock p.m.  If you see this man, turn him in.  And after there's a picture of Embry."  Eve states.
  Reagan lets out a breath, defeated.
  "It's okay Reagan.  I have a lot of faith in my father and around sixty percent less faith in Embry, but this just doesn't sound like him," Eve reassures Reagan.
  Reagan sighs and digs through more files, hoping for more information.  The papers do have an order to them, they're color coded.  Pink for files on people, blue for personal information, and green for information on the experiments.
  "Uh, here's a file on your dad.  Wanna look?" Reagan asks, and Eve promptly nods.  They need as much as they can get.
  "Name: Chang Fletch
Height: 5'8
Weight: 153
Family:
Daughter: Evelyn Fletch
Father: Cho Fletch
Mother: Abigail Fletch (deceased)
Occupation: Sales marketing
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Brown
Race: Asian-Pacific
Mental illnesses: None
Physical disability: None."  Eve reads.
  "Nothing there, but there is this," Reagan pulls out a file reading: Posthuman Organization Backfires.
  "Chang Fletch's machine titled: The Wire strikes back against him.  Did he pin this on Embry Blake?"  Eve reads.
  Her eyes go wide and her hands fumble for more papers.  There are no more papers on the subject of the attack, or the organization backfiring.  Reagan realizes that they are somewhat self-righteous in the act of standing up straight, so they slouch down again.
  Eve is disappointed in her father.  He's a good man, right?  He would never accuse an innocent person of a crime.  Reagan is left standing by the papers.
  "Eve, I'm sure... I'm sorry," Reagan apologizes.  Eve nods while closing her eyes and shuts the door to her room.  She lies on her bed, exhausted.
  Reagan is still standing by the desk, and a sleepy Mr. Fletch walks out of his room rubbing his eyes. His eyes pass over Reagan and move to the papers on his desk.