The Shadow of Winter

Chapter 5

Her eyes were strained as she continued to peer at the tiny words on the screen. She had been doing this for three hours, first reading from an electronic version of To Kill a Mockingbird and now scanning the text of an electronic history book. Neither offered much entertainment to the young girl, however, they did both contribute to the pounding ache behind her eyes. Looking away from the screen allowed some relief from time to time, so (Name) did it once more, groaning in self-pity when she returned her sights to the laptop screen.

Shadow had set her up with online school courses—at the insistent nagging of the Commander. (Name) knew the black hedgehog would rather have ignored her existence within his home until eventually his wish of her disappearance became true, but the Commander was who gave out his paycheck and therefore held a certain amount of control over him.

Despite the undeniable dislike toward school as most teens had, (Name) was glad for the courses. She'd be able to resume the same education that had been left behind as well as keep distracted when the hedgehog was forced to cart her everywhere he went. At this moment she was sitting in one of the few staff lounges located in the G.U.N. Headquarters. It had a coffee station in the corner, so visitors came and went occasionally.

The door to the lounge swung open. (Name) looked up from her laptop to watch as Detective Espio entered. His expression appeared serious, as it always did, when his golden irises settled on the lone girl. Briskly the bright purple chameleon walked up to her, only briefly glancing at the words on her screen. "(Name) (Last name)," he began, "I know you may not wish to think back on the past, as memories have the capability of triggering negative emotions to resurface, but I have one question I must ask you in regards to the investigation."

The detective waited with patience when the girl was slow to respond. He knew from the many different cases he had partaken in that trauma was not easy to get over. On the outside a victim may appear as he or she usually did, perhaps a bit quieter than before, but inside the emotions would be swarming and swirling like a storm. Sometimes these people got better with encouragement. Sometimes they'd never move on, doomed to relive their most frightening or saddening moments at unexpected times throughout their lives.

Espio stared down at (Name) and asked his question. "I need you to think back to that first night, when you came across those men in the alley. The man they had killed, do you remember what he looked like? Any details at all would be helpful."

She tried to remember, she really did. Her mind left the lounge, left the building, and traveled backward through the week to the night she had first witnessed murder.

It had been dark. The men had been wearing long overcoats that reached past their knees, blending well with their slacks and shiny-toed shoes. At their feet had lain a fresh kill. Blood had seeped into the cracks of the pavement, originating from a blow to the head. Hair had been matted and stained a darker color than it usually would have been. What color had it been? Compared to the killers, it had been a lighter shade from the seemingly black hairs mostly covered by hats. And the dim lamps that had shone down on the scene; they had given an almost bronze look to the deceased man.

"I'm pretty sure he had brown hair," said (Name) to the detective. "His clothes were really dark, so I couldn't see them too well...but I'm almost positive he had brown hair."

Espio nodded, forming an image in his mind of a man with brown hair and dark clothing. The image was still missing major details, but if it was all the girl could conjure up from her memory, then it would have to do. "Is there anything else you remember about him? Or of the killers, for that matter?" he asked, hoping to obtain as much detail as possible.