Simpler Things

Part 15: Run and Go

                      Casual, it now is, for me to stumble onto another body. It was a man, I was sure. His face was a Picasso of cuts, deep red gashes left his skin raw, and bloody. He wore a suit, with a light blue tie, and little flowers in the breast pocket, but all the pedals had been picked off. His white dress shirt was soaked with blood, the blotches covered his entire front. I felt nauseous. I... I didn't know who this man was, I studied his face closer. His eyes were open. They were so light, the pupil foggy. His hair was a whisper of white fluff. His skull had been badly bruised. I backed away, grabbing the counter to stabilize my shaking legs. I heard footsteps walk into the dining room and a head peeped into the kitchen. I recognized her immediately.
"Don't come in here. Someone's... hurt." I said, deciding not to use the word dead. The man was clearly dead. Gone.
"I'll call an ambulance." Cara said, hurriedly.
"Call the cops too," she gave me a questioning look, "this wasn't an accident."

             They didn't come until 3am. 
Mostly ever body had gathered in the halls, not feeling safe enough to sleep. The police officer questioned me. All questions I'd ask the killer. I explained, using all the right words. Stumbled apon him- heard a loud bang- went to investigate. He wrote down everything I said.
"I'm going to need ask you some further questions-"
"Ask away." I was tired. Don't judge me.
"Like I was saying, I need to take you to the department. For further questioning." The police said.
"OK." I said, emotionless. I planned on sleeping in the car.

       I sat in the office of police M. Allen. He worked at his desk. I leaned against the back of the bench, relaxing. The door swung open. My father walked in, and slammed a folder on the police officers desk. 
"Come." He flicked his finger at me, then the door. I sat in his car. Waiting for him to exit the police department. Finally, the doors swung open. He marched up to the car, and opened the door.
"Thanks?" I said. He didn't say anything. "Are we going-"
"You haven't been completely honest with me." He said, turning to face me.
"What?"
"What's going on? 3 people. All connected to you."
"Your not accusing me of killing-"
"No." He cut me off. "I'm not. But I need you to be honest. Completely honest." I took a deep breath. Letting all information go through my head one more time.
"I think... someone's killing all these people, as a way to... torture me."
"Okay. There's a start."

         We were driving for 3 hours. I wasn't going to that wedding.
"What about mom?" I said, to break the silence.
"She's... okay with this... I think."
"Does she know your kidnapping me?" I said, raising my eyebrows.
"I'm your father, does this really go under 'kidnapping'?"
"You better hope she forgot how to perform a lobotomy."
Finally the darkness flushed over me, and I fell asleep.

I woke up from my father nudging me.
"We're home." He said. It made me think back to all the times he'd woken me up after those long car rides from family trips. The memory felt sour.
"Mmhhm?" I mumbled. I looked at the radios time. 7:12am. "Have you been driving this entire time?"
"You don't know how many coffees I've had." He widened his eyes. They were slightly blood shot.
"Why are we here?" I croaked.
"Evidence." He said, smiling.

I opened my door. My room stayed the way I left it. The bed neatly made, the desk organized, and my book shelf  over filled.
"You haven't changed." My father said looking at my bookshelf.
"Kyle thinks books are a waste of money. Like knowledge has a price. Hate Kyle." I said.
"You and me both." My father mumbled.
"What?" I said. Walking over and sitting on my bed.
"Nothing. Did you come in any contact with the killer?" He looked over at me. I got up and collected the papers. I laid them out on my bed.
"No finger prints?"
"None."
"Not very sloppy."
"Extremely consistent." I finished.
My father brought a plastic bag out of his pocket and put the notes in them. He headed for the door. I was about to follow when another idea came over me.
"Wait!" I said, rushing over into my closet.
"What?" My father said, stopping at the door. I waddled out carrying the board my mother got me weeks before. I smiled goofly.
"You realize we have those down at the station, right?" He said, pointing at the cork board.
"Yeah, but this one's mine, so it's better."
Minutes later we were driving towards the station, oblivious to what was happening a thousand miles away.