Until Proven Innocent

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

AFTER
Cordelia Waters
Saturday May 20, 2016

I drive down Division Street until I reach Hickory Grove. I'm speeding, going far over the limit, but that doesn't seem to bother me. I need to get there, fast. Much like my driving, my mind is erratic, flooded with thoughts of panic, doubt, and confusion. What has Savannah done? Why did she lie to the police? What could she possibly want with my daughter?

I heard the officers in my living room conversing; they had to release her from police custody due to unverified claims and lack of evidence. I grabbed my keys and took off, sneaking out the back door without a trace. They're too distracted to even pay attention to me, anyway. If not for Gerard, I could have gone unnoticed for hours. But since he showed up to the house shortly before my departure, I can count on him being hot on my trail. If I can just find Emerald and prove that Savannah did this, then they'll believe me. They have to know that I didn't do this. I'm innocent.

I accelerate, my foot pressing hard on the gas, passing residential homes, then eventually, reaching the condominiums. The look of Savannah's posh building reminds me of the apartment I lived in when I turned twenty. After living on residence for a year at Northwestern, I got my own place just off campus. It was a homey, quaint little place. Not much, but enough. I only stayed there for about a year before moving on again. The places I lived were always temporary, waiting for something better to come along. That was until Weston and I decided to move in together after I graduated. He was going to Marquette then, and we wanted a place for ourselves. However, nothing can compare to the home we live in now. The architecture, the homeliness of it, the memories that took place here. It will forever be known and remembered as the home we lived in together, where we got married, raised Emerald.

I pull into a parking spot, slam the gear into park, and march hastily towards the building. I wait impatiently as the elevator takes its time coming down, the concierge staring at me.

It dings, opening its doors for me, and I step inside, hitting the number eight with my knuckle.

Once the elevator reaches her floor, I dart down the hall and straight to her place. My fist connects with the door, banging continuously until she answers.

The door swings open almost immediately. Savannah stands there, astonishment on her face. "Cordelia," her voice falters. "What are you doing here?"
I push past her, pacing the apartment. "Where is she!?" I yell.
She closes the door and turns to me. "Who?"
"Don't play stupid. Where is my daughter?"
"What are you talking about? What did the police say to you?"
"Enough. I know you have her. Where the hell is she?" I stop pacing and stare at her, panting. I bring my arms up and cross them over my chest, waiting.
She takes a step forward, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. "Cordelia, you need to calm down. The police were mistaken. I have nothing to do with Emerald's disappearance. Why do you think they released me?"
"Oh bullshit!" I yell. "You're lying! You're always lying!"
"What are you talking about?"
"You lied about being at my place. First you say you weren't there, then you were. Which is it?"
Her facial expression alters and she looks scared, confused. "Cordy, you honestly don't remember, do you?"
"Stop. I know what you're trying to do."
"Honey, if you're getting sick again –" she reaches her arm out towards me.
"Don't!" I yell and pull back from her. "No, don't you dare play the 'crazy' card on me. I'm not crazy. Not anymore."
"Cordelia," she says in a soft voice now. "I was at your place on Thursday morning. So was Weston. You don't remember?"
"Stop doing that! Stop lying!"
"I'm not lying,"
"I think I would know if you were at my place."
"Unless you had a mental break. Sometimes that can happen with people who suffer from postpartum psychosis. They have delusions, hallucinations, black outs. Especially after incidents of trauma."
"What are you talking about?"
"And those meds you were on. They probably made your mind so much worse. That's why I see a naturopath –"
"Have you lost your mind?"
She stares at me, wide eyed, insulted to have been cut off. "Have I lost my mind? Cordelia, you're the only one who sounds crazy right now. You're delusional!"
"I'm calling the police," I reach into my pocket and grab my phone. She lurches forward and snatches it out of my hands. "What are you doing?" I bark.
"You have this all wrong, Cordelia. We're going to get you help, okay?"
I reach for the phone, attempting to grab it from her hands, but she's too quick and pulls away before I have the chance. She takes a step backwards, away from me.
"Why are you doing this!?" I yell. "Why did you take my daughter?" I stare at her, breathing heavily. Then it hits me. "It's because of your baby, isn't it? You lost yours so you think you can just take mine?"
"Cordelia!" she yells, finally. "Stop!"
So I do. I don't speak. I just stare at her. "I need to find Emerald. They think I did this."
"Well, did you?"
Silence. "Are you kidding me? You too? You think I did this?"
"Honestly, Cordy, I don't know what to believe. You come here yelling and acting crazy. And after Thursday morning... Who knows what you could have done. I'm assuming you don't remember what happened Wednesday, either?"
"Wednesday? What are you talking about?"
She shakes her head. "You really are having a psychotic break."
"Fuck you!" I spit. "I'm not crazy. I didn't kill my daughter."
"Are you sure about that?"