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Hazel

I was almost hoping that because it was April first, it was just a joke. I was hoping that I didn't really have to go and see Mr. Cane that day, and that I could just do what normal people do on Saturdays, like hang out with my best friend or my girlfriend.

Unfortunately, consulting with a murderer was no prank. It was just my life now.

I sat beside Tracie in her Jeep, slouching and wishing I was dead, staring out the window as rain fell from the dismal grey sky. No matter how often or audibly I sighed, though, my reality did not change.

"I hope this experience doesn't put you off to law enforcement," Tracie said, glancing over at me. I didn't reply so she continued, "I heard you're working on a book. That's good. I hope that it helps with the decisions you face."

"Did you ever get anything off the bloody laptop?" I asked, not bothering to look at her.

"Yes. One body found, one case closed. Hopefully today he will be a bit more agreeable."

"No kidding." On the one hand, I was glad to be helping families get closure about their lost loved ones, but on the other hand, I hated seeing him.

We arrived, and the whole thing started over, until finally, I sat before him.

"Good morning, Miss Lee," he greeted me.

"I've seen better ones," I grunted, glaring across the table at him.

"How is my daughter?"

"Happier without you," I assured him.

"Good," he replied evenly. It was our dance, our silent standoff. I wanted to protect May from him, but so did he, so the only fight we could have was through glaring and passive aggressiveness.

"I'm here for a very specific reason, you know."

"I don't get to have conversations anymore, Hazel. I would not want to jump to the end."

I sighed. "I had a feeling you might say that." I pulled out my phone and opened up a video of May playing the cello for a solo in her last orchestra concert. "Here."

He smiled ever so slightly, his harsh blue eyes softening at the sound of his daughter playing music. "Thank you."

"That's Atiya's cello," I informed him. "Jenna found it and bought it for a fuckton of money off some collector."

"I thought that I recognized it . . . Is she going into music?"

"Yes. She has set aside trying to distance herself from her similarities to her mother, and is now embracing them."

"She still covers her face with her hair?"

"She's an emo little bean, what the hell do you want from her Diggory? It's not a phase, it's who she is." I chuckled, but my joke seemed to go over his head, so I just moved past it. "Was that enough conversation for you?"

"No. How are she and Lisa?"

"More in love every day," I told him. "Going on two years."

"That's good. I hope that she will be happy," he said.

"I have no doubt in my mind that she will." I put my phone back and sighed. "Okay, Diggory. I'm sorry, but I have a life to get back to. Time to get to business." Of course, I was lying. I was not sorry, nor did I have a life to get back to. I was just really reluctant to be there.

"Fair enough. Here." Apparently, he was allowed paper and some sort of writing utensil. On the paper he handed me was a name and location, along with a date. "You said before the court that I was sick, addicted to killing. Most serial killers are, after all."