The Gray Case

twenty

He stares. Observes, too. She trembles everywhere in her and he sits. Eyes firm, mouth pursed. The badge he showed just confirmed and deepened the thought of being somewhat in trouble. How? They don't know.

Marcus and Lisa are as confused as Maya is, their same-colored pupils look for answers in the ambiguity of this reality.

A black coffee for him, nothing for them. Her hunger is gone but she is unwillingly fed with a sickening and developing feeling that starts from her stomach and sticks in her throat, dry and sore.

An empty cup and a interrogatory seeming chat later, the feeling is plaqued slightly—she now knows something. She knows about him, what he does and what he is willing to do for the sake of his job.

"You are not a suspect, for now. If that's what you're thinking about. There's no evidence, but try to not use a false name next time, can you? You've got to thank your friend, Alexander. He admitted that he was the one that put you on the list and thankfully you're not a liar and your stories match."

Maya's shoulders sink in relief, she lets out a breath until her eyes are no more facing the detective but are looking at Lisa and Marcus who seem to be more at ease, now. Marcus though still shifts uncomfortably on his chair, staring every so often at something that can keep him distracted.

As Alexander's name flows out of his mouth Marcus lets out a brief cough and she tries to not focus on his name more than she should.

"Are you okay, son?"

Robertson's eyes are sharp, knife shaped, and cutting like it. He notices Marcus's uncomfortable demeanor and can't help but dig in him, sharp, again and deep, this time. Because Marcus flinches, tenses and only then it is obvious and denial is just a step away from guilt: he is afraid.

"Yeah, I'm good," he says.

The detective nods his head slowly, probably not believing his words. He sighs and stands up, eyes attentive as he looks around searching for something he won't find apart from inside of them.

"I'll be going, then. I'll keep an eye on you kids, though," he says almost in scolding manner, his eyebrow raised as his gaze shifts from one face to another, one untold story to the other.

Trying to leave, he is stopped by Maya's curious voice.

"Wait," she says. His head turned—his attention is hers. She takes a shy step closer.

"What are you going to do next? About the case, I mean."

"These are not matters I should be discussing with you. But, I feel like knowing this would make no harm," he says, his hands now placed on his hips, covered by the coat that he is wearing on top of his shirt.

"We are going to continue looking through the list and investigating on some people who might be involved. And tomorrow, we are going to go back to the place where the party was held, hoping to find something."

Maya takes another step forward, taking in what he just said, eye to eye, once again.

"I want to help."

Silence falls. In a hard, fast flash of white blaze hitting into the deafening sound of their glares and her hope.

A crack and it's gone.

His eyes squint a second later, wrinkles beside them as he emits a humorless laugh, followed by a shake of his head.

It dies down and he fixes his coat, heading towards the door.

"Stay safe, kids," he says, lasting traces of his acid laughter mixd with surprise are still present on his face as he walks away and the other two apart from Maya sigh, lazily going back to cleaning up the dinner table.