Deserving | ✔

Chapter 14

Stephanie and I wrote letters to each other when we were in college. She went to Harvard while I went to Yale. Both colleges are practically rivals to each other and so it added to our Romeo and Juliet cliche. We added to the cliche quotient by writing letters with Romeo - Juliet references. This went on or a year, after which we just wrote to each other normally, confessing how much we missed each other and what all we were reminded of when we think of each other and all small small memories of our time together... It felt so nice to read the letter amidst the pressure of studies and it put on a smile on our faces every time we read it.

I would give anything to get one more letter from her, to read one more word from her, to hear one more syllable from her, or even one little sound from her. But I'm not lucky enough to get it.

Instead, I have this letter in my hand; the letter that shows me the possible killers of my love, my Steph.

"How many times does he zone out like this, on an average?" Daniel asks.

"Ten times a minute, I guess," Trisha says and I roll my eyes.

"Can we please focus on this?" Leril asks and I agree.

All the four of us: Trisha, Leril, Daniel and I are at my house, discussing the possibilities of Stephanie's killer.

"Okay, now the most important thing to know is that this list does not have all the cases they both handled. This letter was written in 1998. They died in 2001. Also, they have just listed the cases where the people are put behind the bars solely by them. Obviously, there are cases where there are an important accomplice but were too modest to admit it was their case." Daniel says as he rolls his eyes.

"Anyways," he continues, "here's the list of cases they have ever come across and have had their hands on."

He casually drops a file on the table by the couch where he's seated, right next to Trisha. I lean in from the opposite side but before I can get it, Leril, who was sitting right next to me, grabs it.

"You secretive bitches," she mumbles behind her breath and Daniel says, "Could you be louder, Miss Interpol?"

"You FBI men are secretive bitches! I called your office tons of times! You never treat Interpol well. We have solved tons of cases for you and you are ungrateful assholes."

"You, Miss, are too feisty for your own good. The FBI has reasons to protect its data. We have no reason to give off our information to anybody who calls in and asks for information claiming he/she's from Interpol."

"I called from my office phone. The number is a standard Interpol number."

"There's this thing called hacking. It's easier to hack and deceive numbers. We take no chances. You should have stopped by at the Office."

She snorts. "You never let anyone inside. I showed my ID, for heaven's sake! But no, you're all too busy with private meetings! Honestly, you guys behave like teenage boys who clear their web history after visiting R rated websites."

Trisha giggles.

"Do you do that, Danny?" she asks, starting a laughing fit.

"Shut it, Tri!"

"Wait, you two know each other?" I ask.

"Of course we do! We both went to Harvard."

"There are a million students in Harvard," I state.

"Twenty one thousand, to be exact. But you know me. I was a social bird. I still am , to be honest. Plus, no one from the batch of 2012 could ever forget the Slap Of The Batch. You got slapped hard, dude! I even had a snapshot of it! Seriously, what did you do to get such a hard slap? That too from the poor, innocent, sweet Steph? I still can't figure out what you did," Trisha says and laughs at the memories.