The Journal [A Sequel To Maya's Diary]

Chapter Eight

"Maya, are you sure of-"

"I am sure."

"You know whatever allegations you raise, can you be used against you if your claims are not true," He replied, his fingers interlocked and moved in different directions, as a means of emphasis.

I stopped to think for a moment. I wasn't actually sure. The voice did sound a lot like Edward's. Maybe I was wrong, it might have just been an unprecedented coincidence.

I dragged the wooden chair along the floor, it's scraped legs begged for mercy as it wailed on forced contact with the linoleum flooring. I moved it closer, then sat on it. My fingers lurked in the strands of my loose dark hair.

To write a report, I needed to be fully inclined with what I was dealing with. I let out an audible breath. Leone stood still, ever buoyant In his black shirt and black ripped jeans. I wasn't sure there was a particular dress code for detectives. Hung in complete submission by his Jean pocket, was his walkie-talkie. Whatever happened to phones?

It rang, and he looked at me, one more time, then proceeded to pick up.

"Detective Stewart over.... I copy that... Stand by," He said as he withdrew the device, from the tight clutch of his fingers, and hugged the speaker to his chest. Police Jargons.

"They want me at the station. There are probable suspects for the crime on display. We could start off from there."

I exhaled a mouth full of disintegrated condensed air, that I hadn't known for how long I held it. My feet that rested slightly apart, got to motion and held me still, countering the suppressing force that pounced on my head. My feet gave up and wobbled and I was thrown off balance. Luckily, Leone caught me on time.

"Are you OK Miss Anderson?" He started, steadying me back on the wooden chair I had just gotten up from.

"Yes, I just need a glass of water." He nodded, and strode to the mini fridge of just about 1.7 cubic feet, with a ghost white exterior, and firmly balanced on it's leveling legs. He opened the fridge ajar, and I noticed it was stacked with edible items, crammed to create a mind satisfying hunger quench.

Unfortunately, my mind satisfaction didn't do much to keep the growling beasts on the leash, as they rumbled internally for my attention. My stomach growled persistently, at the sight of fast food. He arrived minutes later with the glass of water. "Drink up," He instructed.

"Thanks," I muttered in reply, and took the glass from him. It felt like I lifted a weight. Slight ripples formed within the glass, as I released a thud and the liquid escaped it's glass housing. More of its content seeped into his denim jeans, and a few careless ones on his boots. The broken remains of the glass cup, glittered under the presence of the artificial illumination.

"I'm so sorry."

"Are you sure you are OK? I could take you to the infirmary for some random tests."

"I'm just a little worked up, it's no big deal. Although, I could really use a hot black coffee with two cubes of sugar at most."

"I'll make you some coffee drink. Provided you don't puke." He left again to the coffee maker, that hid graciously beside the fridge.

"I feel like I'm being microwaved. Only a thousand times hotter? When I entered, I was freezing cold and I managed to trap enough heat with the aid of my woolen sweater now perspiration beads, are forming in their millions."

"If you feel so hot, I could see to the conditioning," He said arriving with a mug of steaming coffee. The steam became more visible, with his nearing. "If this still doesn't make you feel any better, then I'll take you to Nurse Faye, a few capsules should break the fever. Remember, we have work to do, so try and get better."

"You know, today is the worst Christmas ever. I didn't get to spend time with my family, I'm to write a report with no useful progress so far, feeling nauseous,...don't we get timeouts?"

"Just rotary shifts. Tess is still locked up wherever she may be. How do you imagine her Christmas going? Be glad you are free, on two feet and sipping hot black coffee. A courtesy of my culinary inclination."

"Anyone can make coffee."

"Yea, but you'll agree mine tastes divine."

"You know when I first met you, I thought you were just a crappy detective."

"Really? What changed?"

"I still think you are a crappy detective, just with a little sense of humor." We both stopped, to release a short laughter.

He took out his walkie talkie and placed it few inches away from his lips. Whoever called him earlier, must have called back. "Copy that... I'm en route."

~•~•~•~

Edward's feet stomping the about uneasily, was the only sound heard in the room. He moved back and forth the walls and sighted Tess gourmandizing her taco salad, at the corner.

"Are you quite finished?" His stentorian voice came through after minutes of quiet.

Tess dropped the brown paper bag that housed her dish, and released a sigh before proceeding, "I'm sorry you're the one who kidnapped me, tied me up and threatened me, with a knife against my jugular vein in the middle of apparently your basement. Forgive me if I needed to feed. Matter of fact, I need another wrap. Make it a burger this time."

"It's not safe for me here, we need to go."

"Why? Feeling insecure? says the big bad napper."

He proceeded however to tie her up with the strong, thick line braided flax rope. While he knotted the ends to a tie, she lifted her arms vehemently and wrapped his neck with with the tied knot. She quickly reached for her hair pin that sat behind her, and scarred him at the corner of his mouth. He released a sharp pain of agony and just when she attempted pulling off the mask, he firmly grabbed her back on both hands.

"Clever, but stupid." He commented wiping off the blood that escaped from his lip corner, to his jaw.

"At least I made an attempt."

"OK, that hurts. What did you use?"

"My hair pin," she replied waving it.

"Listen, I don't want to hurt you. I just need the keys. My wife w-"

"Your wife? Just when I thought you were a pathetic loner, you are married? So you have someone you care about after all. What about me? What about my family? They are probably worried sick about my whereabouts. What about my fans?" She stopped to wipe off a loose tear. Then continued, "What if your wife, was in my place? What if someone kidnapped her?"

He turned sharply and barked. "She can never be kidnapped, because I love her and I'll defend her against anyone that tries to hurt her." he moved inches closer, and deafened his voice "Anyone who gets but an inch closer to hurting her, will have themselves to pay. As for you, we are leaving."

"Great. Why even bother with the long speech, if you will just tie me up anyway."

He reached for the duck tape, and sealed up her lips, stooping low to tie the knots and lifted her, resting the better part of her weight on his left shoulder. He looked around once again, before shutting the door.