The Heart Of The Lonely

CHAPTER 9

"Are you sure you had never seen her before?"

Brandon held a photograph of Victoria Reyes in his hands, his arm stretched and resting on the edge of the table in front of him. He sat nonchalantly on a chair, pushed a little further away from the black wooden desk and refrained from rolling his eyes at the Captain's question.

Instead, he focused his gaze on the thin and gaunt face of the victim he'd been one of the last to see alive.

She'd been a wild one, that much he could tell. She had more than likely been one to party too much or more precisely, she'd frequented the wrong people that, he guessed, had ultimately led to her premature death.

"I just got out of the hospital, Conran." He responded, not failing to show his exasperation.

Despite the dark circles under her eyes that added a couple of years to her appearance, the blonde didn't look older than forty, if that.

He had been asleep for twenty one years which would have made her a young adult or a teenager and he'd been too busy only having eyes for Ariel to have noticed or even cared about the woman.

Most of the missions he'd been assigned before the day that had changed his life occurred, had been spent with Conran, who had been his former partner and if he had known or crossed path with her prior to his coma or her death, he'd have been the first to know.

He knew, of course, that his longtime friend was only trying to follow the procedure and interrogated him the same way he'd have done with anyone else that could testify or had witnessed something.

Alas, it didn't stop him from not appreciating the fact that he was being questioned in the first place. Especially if he was to be greeted with questions that others would know the answers to more than him.

And even if he had bumped into her by happenstance in the past, he'd require something more than a recent picture to jog his memory. After spending so many years of his life in a bed, he was lucky to be able to get back on his feet without neurologic sequelae that'd affect his ability to think.

Turning to look at the larger man beside him, Brandon wrinkled his forehead.

"Who's this girl?" He asked, tossing the picture back towards Nolan who sat on the other end of the table in the private interrogation room.

On his left, was a picture of the victim's body, laying in a pool of her own blood in, what he presumed, was her living room.

The piece of evidence had blue undertones, connoting that it had been taken in the dark. The deceased woman wore a silk and lacy nightgown and had both her arms bent and positioned close to her head.

Ironically, there was something peaceful about the look on her face, giving the photograph a lesser gruesome vibe.

"Victoria Reyes, 37. Single, unemployed and mother of a two-year old boy." The police officer clarified, sliding his finger across the touchpad of the laptop placed in front of him, separating him and Brandon.

Beside it, stood a big desk lamp that gleamed to the point it nearly blinded the three men. Nolan folded his arms across his chest as Conran, who had retrieved further to the back, stayed beside the mugshot wall that they used for heights marking. He studied his friend's reaction but the latter remained impassive.

"Where is he?" He demanded simply, reaching for a paper by the laptop that he glided towards himself.

"Her sister was babysitting him." Conran interrupted in an icy tone.

At that, his ex-partner looked up to meet his eyes. He pulled a face, fingers still touching the white paper.

"Mr. Hart..."