Wildfire

Chapter 4 - Free

“Ashdale PD on the line. Am I by any chance speaking to Abigail Carter?”

I had just gotten back from school, getting ready to usher the weekend with my sour mood for nothing in particular. The day was torturous enough with Kayla consistently being by my side like a partner in crime – at least she thought she was doing me a civil service. Kayla was as good as her brother. Both of them a pest in the making. I was however, not expecting a call from the police.

 “Yes it’s me.” A short and sweet answer was all they wanted right?

 “Hi Ms Carter, this is Constable Duggin. I’m here to inform you that your father was a victim of a recent murder. I’m sorry for your loss but could you please come down to the station to collect your father’s belongings?” The man at the end of this line was as soulless as the murderer.

 My father dead? The harrowing male gay figure in my life is no more? “No this must be a joke. You’re sick!” I spat to the telephone.

 “Listen to me young lady. I have about twelve more cases to solve and unfortunately for you, your father’s case is fresh which means that I am responsible for catching your father’s killer as soon as possible. I have absolutely no time to be telling random Americans fibs alright.” I know Constable Duggin was legitimate but my head simply could not wrap around the thought that I was now free.

 “Was it a serial killer?” There were tears in my eyes. Both coming from shock and happiness.

 There was a silence for a while. “I can’t disclose that information now. But he was brutally murdered with what was believed to be a cook’s knife. There were multiple repeated stab wounds on his abdomen and a deep slit on his throat. The killer must have known your father but we won’t be able to proceed unless you aid us in our investigation.”

 Good. That son of a bitch deserved that. Those words did not escape my lips. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 With that, the opposite line went dead and my biggest bully was still dead.

-*-

 Ashdale PD turned out to not be as crummy looking as I imagined it to be. It was newly refurbished a few years ago but I’ve only heard about how majestic it looked. There was no particular need for me to hop into the station until today. The day God actually existed.

The magnolias lining along the walkway leading up to the door looked happy. I was overjoyed on the inside and I could not stop smiling. The glass door that greeted me mirrored a psychotic looking female and it made me realise how suspicious I would look if I kept on behaving in that manner when I stepped into the precinct.

 Inside, it was as busy and crowded as Black Friday but I finally made my way to the reception desk where a tired raven haired lady met my eyes.

 “How may I help you?” She droned out. How very enthusiastic of you I thought.

 “I’m here to see Constable Duggin.” I replied.

 She cupped her face with her hands when I said that. Was I at the right station or was this receptionist really out of her league in this hectic environment?

 “Why do you wanna see John?” She sighed.

 I stifled a laugh. John Duggin. What a name. “My father was murdered.”

 The receptionist perked up with a set of wide horrifying eyes glaring at me. She mouthed a huge O and tried to apologise for my loss but I cut her off just in time. “Don’t bother. He deserves to be dead.”

 No questions asked, she picked up the telephone and said, “John…” She covered the bottom half of the phone before looking at me again. “What’s your name sweetie?”

 Sweetie. Change of attitude in such a small amount of time. Such a two face. “Abigail Carter.”

 “Right thank you.” She removed her hands from the speaker, “John, Abigail Carter is here to see you.”

 She placed her phone down after a few minutes of mmhmms and yeah you too. “He’ll be right down honey.”

 I failed to see her nameplate when I came but the receptionist eventually had a name on her forehead before I left. “I hope you marry John someday because Lyra Watchfooh isn’t quite working out for you sunshine.”

 She scowled at me. “He’s married.”

 “Oh what a shame.” I turned around and walked away from the desk before she could throw the industrial metal stapler at my head.

 Constable Duggin was a lean and handsome mid-twenties officer. There goes the stereotype of round donut loving men in blue. His hand shake was firm as well. “Hi Ms Carter.”

 “Please, it’s Abigail.” I smiled.

 “You don’t seem too distraught about your father’s death.” He observed, motioning me to sit on the nearby couch.

 “That is the joke of the year officer. You see these marks?” I pulled up my long sleeve so that an array of red cuts, sores and bruises were for him to marvel upon. “The murderer might have been your problem but for all I care, he or she has done me a great service.”

 “You have not come earlier to report to us about the beatings?” He queried.

 “My father was a psychopathic dick-loving idiot. I was threatened with a gun if I ever told anyone.” My happy façade was slowly going down the hill as I recalled the horrible moments in my life.

 He threw the grey plastic bag, which I assumed held all of my father’s belongings, in the bin next to him. “Then you don’t need this. You’re free to go.”

 “Wait you’re not going to question me? How do you know it wasn’t me who killed him?” It was a silly question but the criminal orientated television shows that are always airing had that protocol every single time.

 “I know a victim when I see one. It’s a special link from me to people like you.” Constable Duggin removed his jacket, exposing faded scars that were identical to mine.

 -*-

I left the precinct feeling as overjoyed as a bumblebee. That was probably not the best metaphor but my brain was in a muddled mess of foreign happiness. Suddenly, it clicked to me that I have not apologised to Will for today’s mood swing.

 His house was a few miles away from mine. I must have walked past his house maybe twice in my life – it served as shortcuts from the shops. It was a royal mahogany spacious looking house with French window panes and a variety of flowers in the front yard. They used to fresh and vibrant but now they were all wilted and almost dying.

 I knocked on the door twice before stepping back. Will opened the door curiously but soon enough he was beaming at me.

 “Look I am really sorry for…” He looked really cute when he was perplexed.

 “What kind of son are you?” I shot back.

 “Excuse me?”

 “Those poor flowers are begging for you to water them!” I gestured to the potted plants behind me.

 We laughed. “It doesn’t take long for you to change your attitude towards me does it?”

My eyes were twinkling when I said these next few words. “Yeah well… There was a sudden change of events.”

 “Let me grab my coat and we’ll go down to the malt shop. You have to indulge me in these sudden changes. I owe it a favour.” Will flashed me a dazzling set of white teeth. What was this boy lacking in life? He had everything.

 He had everything and I was just slowly regaining back my life. Miracles are really something special.