What Happened To Her

1

Sunday 4:00am in the police station...
    "Miss Jones?" The deep sound of Officer Whoever's voice brings me into the present. I've been sitting in this small room with no windows and one door for I don't know how long. I've seen at least three police officers who have all asked me the same things and I've given them the same answers.
    I pull my eyes away from staring at the table between us to meet the kind, yet stern eyes of a burly, mid forties man. "What time did you arrive at the party?" he asks for the fourth time.
I go to speak but I can tell the dryness in my throat won't allow anything to come out. I clear my throat and say, "8:30."
    "And when was the last time you remember seeing Miss Taylor?"
    "I don't know," I say, still not being able to give them a good enough answer. "I wasn't checking the time regularly." I try my best not to sound irritated but I'm starting to get annoyed. I've told so many different people everything I know and I just feel like they're wasting their time repeating the same questions to me.
    "Okay," he says with a sigh. "Do you remember where you saw Miss Taylor last?"
    Again, a repeated question. "She took me to the bathroom with her, she made me fix her makeup."
    "Was she with anyone else?"
    "No, she was alone when she found me by the pool. After we left the bathroom, I went back outside and she went toward the stairs." I answer his next question before he says it.
    "Towards the stairs or up the stairs?" the officer asks while he writes in a notebook.
    "I didn't see her go up the stairs."
    He makes a "hm" sound and continues writing.
"What about her necklace?" He asks, without looking up. "Was she wearing it the last time you saw her?"
"Her necklace?" I ask. I picture the round diamond pendant on a silver chain that she wore everyday.
"We can't locate it, her parents would like to have it," he says, glancing up at me.
"Yes, of course she was wearing it, she never took it off."
After what feels like hours he puts his pen down and wipes his face with one hand.
    "Alright," he starts, "let's go back to the beginning. Who decided to go to this party?"

Friday 2:45pm...
    "Jake Parker?" I ask, eyes wide, mouth agape.
    Olivia giggles, "Yes Jake Parker, what other Jake would I be referring to?"
    "Literally any other Jake in the world. How Does Jake Parker even know we exist?"
    "Ok Chlo, stop saying Jake Parker." Olivia stops in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to face me, grabbing both of my hands with hers. "This is important to me. High school is ending and we will never get it back."
    I search her eyes, trying to understand where she's going with all of this. Our high school experience has been filled with fun. Not your typical fun; no parties, barely any romance but lots of laughs and movie marathons and trips to the mall. Olivia has been my best friend since second grade, I couldn't picture high school any other way.
    Olivia drops her smile and continues. "We've never been to a high school party and in two months, we won't have another chance."
    "So, you want to go to Jake Parker's house party just because?" I stare at her, waiting for her to start laughing and tell me she's joking.
    "We need to go to a house party to complete our high school experience."
    She's serious. I pull my hands out of hers and start walking down the sidewalk toward our houses. We've walked home from school together basically everyday since 6th grade. "How are we going to get our parents to let us go to a party?"
    Olivia laughs, loud and ironically. "We can't tell our parents Chloe, you are the worst teenager ever."
    Maybe I am. Lying to my parents never even crossed my mind.
    "You tell your parents you're staying at my house, and I tell my parents I'm staying at yours." Olivia says this so plainly, so calmly as if it's the most obvious answer to all the world's problems.
    "Oh," is all I can say. Things between Liv and I have been a little different lately but I just chalked it up to growing up. She's started dressing a little differently, expressing interest in things she never used to be interested in, like cheerleading in college. We've made fun of the cheerleaders since freshman year.
    Olivia pulls out a cherry red lip gloss from her purse and swipes it across her lips. That's new too. We used to do makeovers with each other when we were younger and we put on makeup when attending school dances or important events but not everyday.
    We come up to Liv's house, which is four houses down and across the street from mine. "Text you in five minutes," she says, turning into her yard and walking through her front door.

Sunday 5:45am in the police station...
    "So, it was Olivia's idea?" This is a new officer, a lady cop. Every sentence she says is laced with sweetness and skepticism.
    I nod my head, it's been another hour at least since the last officer left. I'm tired and thirsty and over answering the same questions. She taps the recorder sitting in between us for the third time, reminding me again to speak out loud. "Yes."
    "And she's the one who came up with the lie about staying at one anothers house for the night?"
    "Yes."
    "Whose house was the party at again?"
    "Jake Parker."
    "What was Olivia's relationship with Mr. Parker?"
    This is a new question. "She didn't have one."
    The officer raises an eyebrow. "She didn't know Mr. Parker?"
    Her inflection makes me feel like I'm stupid. "He's in our class, we've all known each other since we were kids but we're not friends with Jake."
    "When you say 'we' you mean you and Olivia." It's a statement.
    "Yes."
    "Olivia is your best friend?" That's a question.
    "Yes."
    "Does she get along with your other friends?" I have no idea where she's going with this.
    I think about her question. Olivia doesn't know my friends from band and I've told her about Crystal from summer camp but she doesn't live near me. Besides Liv, I don't really hang out with other people outside of school.
    "Yes," I say because it's the easiest, quickest answer.
    "And you get along with all of her friends?"
    Jealousy. That's where she's going with these questions. She's trying to figure out if I killed my best friend out of jealousy.
    "No," I say too loud, answering the thoughts in my head instead of the question she asked. "I mean, yes. We both don't have a lot of friends but we all get along just fine."
    The officer nods her head once and glances toward the door. She grabs the recording device from between us and turns it off, slips it in her shirt pocket and stands up.
    "Thank you, Miss Jones," she says as the door opens and another woman walks in.
    I can tell instantly that she's not a police officer. She's in plain clothes, not a uniform and she comes in with a McDonald's bag. The officer gives her a tight lipped smile as she walks past her and out the door.
    The woman puts the bag down in front of me. "How ya doin kid?" She asks, like she's a distant relative I haven't seen in a while.
    "Fine," I say quietly.
    "I'm Detective Sherry Long but just call me Sherry, I don't like the formal stuff."
    She reaches into the bag and pulls out two breakfast sandwiches and two hash browns. The smell instantly makes me realize how hungry I am. I haven't had anything in my stomach, other than alcohol, since dinner.
    The door opens again and a cop comes in with two cups of coffee and sets them on the table. Detective Long just nods, dismissing him.
    "I hope you're hungry," she says. "I can't function this early without food." She starts unwrapping one of the sandwiches and nods at the other, offering it to me silently.
    I reach out gingerly, my arm muscles aching from sitting still for so long, and grab the greasy sandwich. I start tearing into it as the detective groans happily, taking her first bite.
    "So," Detective Long says as I take my first bite. "Pretty rough night, huh?"
    I just nod and keep eating. I understand she's trying to be friendly and make me feel comfortable. The questioning is going to start up again any minute now.
    "If you're ready, I'd really like you to walk me through your entire day Saturday." There it is.
    I put down the sandwich and take a small sip of coffee before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.