Vincent

Four - Trust Me

"Good morning, Detective Nieto!" Marla, a 40-year old clerk in Metropolitan Nashville Police Department - South Precinct, greeted Cari with a big smile. Her deep dimples appeared on her chubby cheeks. "You look so beautiful today!"

"Oh please." Cari laughed. "You're flattering me, Ms. Marla."

"That's because it's true, darling." She answered. Then, she looked at me. "Good morning, Detective Kris."

I smiled. "Morning, Marla."

"Here's the report." She gave me a white folder. "All the details are here."

"Thanks." I took it.

She motioned her hand to her left. "Detective Miller's office is on the right side."

"Thank you, Marla." Cari said as she walked first.

Marla nodded. "No problem."

I followed Cari as she walked to Miller's office. She didn't talk to me after we went to Sandy's place this morning. She wasn't even looking at me in the eye.

I stared at her back.

Everything's messed up.

I clenched my fist.

If I can't keep her quiet...

We stopped in front of a door. The plate read "Miller". Cari knocked three times.

"Come in." A faint voice came from inside.

Cari opened the door.

A man in his late 30s opened his arms. "Welcome to Tennessee, people." He smiled from ear to ear. "Nieto, my beautiful darling. Came to see daddy?"

"...No, sir." Cari replied, serious. "I came here for business."

The old man laughed. "Serious as always, eh?" He looked at me. "Kris, don't tell me you're hitting on her?"

I noticed Cari frown.

I smiled. "No. But if I have the chance, why not?"

He laughed. "That's good, Kris. That's good."

I glanced at Cari. She's already giving a menacing aura around her. I looked down. She clenched her fists.

"Sit down, please." He offered.

We sat down in front of his desk. He cleared his throat.

I felt the atmosphere change.

I glanced at Cari. She sat straight. Her hands were on her lap. She looked at me.

It's the first time she looked at me this morning.

I gave her a meaningful look.

She seemed to get the message. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Open the folder." He said--more like--demanded.

I did what I was told. I opened it and saw a picture of a Japanese boy. He smiled at the camera, with his bike beside him. He wore a grey sweatshirt, stripe capri shorts, and red sneakers. He looked cute with his cap on his head.

Oh.

The typical "heart throb" boy in a school.

I glanced at Cari again. This time, I was surprised.