Destined

Six

The dean was a tall, slender man with salt and pepper hair and thick rimmed glasses. He had a kind looking face, wrinkled with laughter lines. He was the only person in the room who made me feel at ease.

Detective Aubrey stood near the dean's desk looking through a police file with much scrutiny. In the chair next to me was his partner Detective Amil Jackson. He was a young blond haired man with a hard jaw and a pinkish scar under his left eye that made him look scary.

"Okay," Det. Aubrey placed the file down. "New evidence came to light,"
"Oh?" I said not knowing why I was being told about information in an ongoing murder investigation.
"It appears the intruder who is quite possibly Roger's killer, killed him for information on his laptop, a laptop that was just anonymously delivered to the precinct last night,"
"What?"
"You seem surprised,"
I stuttered, "I find it strange that someone would go through all the trouble of stealing it only to return it,"
"We found that strange too," Det. Jackson said. "And then we looked at his phone records, and guess what we found?"

I remained quiet.

"A phone call from you," Det. Aubrey answered.
I swallowed, "Why is that strange?"
"You were the last person to communicate with a dead guy. Then you're found at the scene of a robbery that involves him too?"
"You don't have to speak to them if you don't want to," the dean assured me.
"Fortunately," Det. Jackson spoke up, "the intruder didn't come after you. Why is that?"
"I wasn't what he wanted," I said more to myself than anyone else.
"You could have seen his face," Det. Aubrey explained.
"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked.
"That's two factors connecting you to the crime, a third connection will be cause for official questioning," Det. Jackson said.
"You think I killed Roger?" I asked in disbelief.
Det. Aubrey said. "No, but I think you know more than what you're willing to say, am I right?" He looked at me but I said nothing. "You're free to go," he paused. "We'll be in touch,"

I walked like a zombie to a class I was already late for. History of Culture. I didn't expect Professor Darke to demand for an explanation when I walked in. He looked angry and I didn't understand why he was asking. Half the class usually skipped his lessons and he couldn't care less.

"Miss Sanders, I asked a question," he said.

Everyone was staring at me.

"I was talking to the police," I answered.

He clearly wasn't expecting that answer because he looked baffled and let me go to my seat without another word.

Maddie gave me a reassuring smile when I sat down next to her. I tried to pay attention to Professor Darke's words but all I could think was Vince returned the laptop. Why? Did he no longer need it now that he'd gotten rid of the damnening emails? And who took the gym bag? What was in the gym bag worth stealing?

"Krissy, are you okay?" Maddie asked.
I looked up and the class was empty, "Uh yeah, I lost track of....everything," I laughed and got up.
"So the police talked to you too, huh?"
"Uhm, they talked to you?"
"Yeah, some time yesterday. Asked a bunch of questions, freaked me out a little, asked if we had any problems in our relationship," she laughed. "Roger and I broke up practically twice a month, we had lots of problems,"
"Yeah," I said still distracted. "I have to get to my next class,"
"Yeah sure, call if you need me, I promise to answer this time," she said and walked away.

I checked my phone on my way to my next class and texted my mum that I was okay and that the police would be questioning me soon. Better to let her know ahead of time. I stepped into the room, eyes still on my phone and walked to my usual desk.

Very few people took this writing class. About fifteen students in total actually. So we used a really small room that resembled a high school classroom. With white wash painted walls and a black chalkboard at the front. A third of the entire wall on my right was a large window.