Diaries of the Dead

21 | Unconditional

unedited. Important Author's Note at the end..

21 | U n c o n d i t i o n a l 

         Grace exhaled her relief when Lance returned, holding a cup of coffee in each hand.

         A seditious grin curved his mouth as he walked towards her, handing her one of the insulated cups. “There you go, two sugars and no milk.”

         She took the coffee gracefully and held it up to her lips. “I need you to do me a favor.” She had grown accustomed to asking Lance for favors. Little did he know, he was just a puppet and she was pulling all of his strings.

     He scratched his head, ruffling his dark, shaggy hair. “Yeah, um, of course. What…what is it?”

        Grace’s eyes scanned the narrow hallway. Lance had cleared the hallway for the sake of her and that made her content. She then glanced over to the large glass that acted as a one-sided mirror. She observed Mitch’s body stretched out on the steel chair. He seemed to be staring blankly at nothing in particular.

        She hated that he was alone and confused in that interrogation room. She knew how he must have felt because she, too, had to sit in that very same chair. “I need you to get him out of there.”

          A short chuckle burst out of Lance’s mouth before he could stop it. “You know I can’t do that.”

       Grace set her rosy lips into a thin line, shooting daggers into Lance’s head with her deadly glare. “And why not?”

        “That’s against protocol! I can’t release him unless there’s evidence that he is innocent. And right now, all of the evidence points to him.”

       The strawberry-blonde felt her sharp nails dig painfully into the palms of her hands. “He is innocent. He’s not capable of hurting anyone.”

        Lance heaved a sigh. “Weapons, including an axe, a chainsaw and a few assorted knives, were all found in his toolshed. All of them had remnants of Jessica’s blood. “And his semen was found inside-”

          “Okay,” she interrupted, holding up her hand to silence him. “Are you listening to yourself? If he really did kill her, why would he keep the weapons?”

            “For sadistic reasons.”

          Grace had enough. She marched up to the detective and poured her black coffee down his white buttoned-down shirt.

       He winced in pain and instantly ripped open his shirt, attempting to relieve the stinging sensation. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

         “You’re going to get him out of there,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care how, but you’re going to do it.” Sending him one last glare, she pushed past him and walked right out of the hallway. 

*        *       *       *

            “So, what’s your story?”

            Steven shot his eyes up to writer before him. There was a pause as they both stared at each other in curiosity. Steven cleared his throat, “What story?”

            Aiden swung around in his swivel chair to face the ghost. He propped his leg up on his knee and leaned in closer. “How’d you die? I don’t mean to pry, but I want to add it into my story. Plus, I was kind of curious, too.”