Murder

Chapter 15- My Fault

"What do you mean 'you're stopping the investigation'? It's only been a few weeks! You can't just stop! We've made progress! I almost drowned to find the murder weapon! And you're telling me that you're just gonna quit? Just like that?" I screamed at the officer. He's fat with a big brown bushy moustache that reminds me of a caterpillar. It might jump off his lip and turn into a butterfly at any moment. "All that was on that knife was a partial print and some blood that was so diluted from the water we can't even figure out what blood type this is. And now you're bringing us a piece of cloth, a piece of cloth won't help us at all unless there's some type of DNA on it." he spoke slowly and carefully, trying to word everything just right, like if he didn't I'd kill him or something. "That's what I'm asking you to do! Check for DNA! I know there's some on there, I just know it!" I yelled. "I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do." he sighed. "Who's in charge of his case? I want to talk to them right now!" I stomp my foot and put my hands on my hips. He sighs and walks behind a door, hopefully to get the detective and not security.

A few minutes later, a woman and a man walk out. "Hi little girl! What are you doing here? Are you here with your parents?" they asked me. Are you kidding me? Are they serious? "No." I spat. They look a little shocked. "I heard you're stopping my brother's case." I said. "Your brother?" "Russ. The boy you found in the river. That's my brother, and you're stopping his case. I want to know why." I'm trying to keep my voice calm. "There's no reliable evidence. We can't be sure who did it, unless there's a theory that you'd like to share that we can build off of." The girl said. She's tall, and she's got short brown hair and brown eyes. I have my dreams, but I need to figure out who that person in my dreams are first. "I don't have a complete theory, but I know it's a man. Medium-large build, tall, has a white pickup truck." I hope they'll listen to me. "What makes you so sure? Did you see it?" she asked. Technically, yes, I did see it. "Yes." I said. My voice was small and young sounding. "Well why didn't you say anything?" "Because, I'm not quite sure who it is yet. I'm trying to figure it out." I said. "Would you be willing to talk to a sketch artist?" "I can remember his silhouette, but that's all right now. I've been working on remembering, but nothing yet. That whole drowning in the river thing rattled me a little." I said. "Describe that to him now, and any time you remember something, come see us. The sketch artist will add any details you tell him." the man said. I nod and walk back to the room with the artist. He gets out a pad of paper and a pencil."Tell me what you saw." "Average height. Maybe a little on the tall side. Medium build. Kinda fat. White pickup truck." I said. That's all I can remember. I hope it's enough for now. The sketch artist shows me and I nod. It looks right. I walk out of the building and towards Rob's house.

I get to his house, and I hear Darrel screaming. I run through the door, into the kitchen. Rob's holding his arm, Darrel is sweeping up glass and cursing. I look at the wall. There's a broken window. "What happened?" I screamed. "Somebody threw a brick at the window." Rob said. His voice is tight. "There was a note attached to it, but we can't make any sense of it. It's english, but it doesn't make any sense." Darrel continued. I take the note from the counter. I read it out loud, even though I'm sure they've already read it a few times. It says:

"To anybody that lives or stays in the Mathews house (you know who I'm talking about): If you continue to tamper with the investigation of Russ Kenny's murder, you will regret it. Everything you love and care for will pay for your meddling. You have been warned."

I put the letter down and look at Rob. "I'm guessing you got hit with the brick." He nods and his face looks like he ate a lemon. "What the hell was that note all about?" Darrel screamed. "I don't know. I went to the police station today to see how far the investigation has gone...y'know, see if there's any suspects. They told me they stopped the investigation. I made them look a little bit longer, see if they can find anything." Darrel just stared at me. Rob moves toward the freezer to get an ice pack. "That doesn't constitute a damn brick through my window! Or a brick hitting my boy's arm! Or threatening anybody we care about! And it doesn't mean you're messing with the investigation! What the fu-" "Dad! Language!" Rob yelled. Darrel sighed. "What is wrong with this guy?" he said more calmly. "Gab, why don't you go to your room, we're gonna clean up the glass and then we'll go up and sort this out." Rob mumbled, glaring at his dad. I trudge upstairs, while I hear them arguing in a hushed tone, Rob telling Darrel that he needs to watch his tone and his language because "I'm just a kid an my fault." But it is my fault. I got the weapon. I talked to the cops. I searched the crime scene. It's my fault. Rob got hit with a brick and everybody I care about is in danger and it's all my fault. I'm a horrible person. I can't believe this is real life.