UMBRA

Shotgun

JULY 20, 2019

"One last time. Tell me what -exactly- happened?"

"For a detective, you have an awful memory."

She gave me a baffled look. Her dark black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she had thick fringes (Camilla-Cabello-type curtain bangs to be precise), which covered the corners of her distinctly broad forehead. Her skin was coffee-colored, and she wore light make-up. She must've been around thirty-five.

"Mom wasn't with Dad. According to Grandpa, she went for a stroll," I continued, "I don't know how I had no idea about this."

"She never entered the house once your Dad left. She immediately went towards the moor."

"I guess."

"So you reached the front door then, huh?"

"Yeah," said I, "And Mom's body was hanging there, right in front of us. Then it just fell on the doorstep the next moment. Just like that."

The woman sat patiently and leaned back into her chair, tapping her fingertips on the metal table. She sat scrutinizing my interrogation and nodded to herself. She got up from her seat and asked me once again.

"Is there anything else? You can tell me."

"Uh-yeah. Her clothes—it was a dirty white dress. I had never seen that in my life."

"What did you do?"

"I tried to get her down," said I, "She was freezing cold like she had been dead for days and kept in a morgue."

"Your Grandfather?"

"He-He—"

The woman stared at me, waiting for my answer.

"He started crying and cursing himself."

"Your brother?"

"He-um, he just stood," said I, my fingers lining my forehead, which felt like it had come under a road-roller or maybe an anvil.

"What about your Dad—"

"Stop! Please stop," said I, "Just leave already."

"Alright. Looks like we're done here, Amelia McClendon."

I stepped out of the interrogation room. Grandpa was seated in the hall when he saw me. He got up and made a few slow steps.

"Amy," said Grandpa. His eyes had thin red lines like rivers and were still teary.

"What will we do now?"

"They said we can go now. We've decided to stay at a hotel for some time. You know, with the house being a scene and—"

"Where's um—where's Jace?" I tried to deflect the conversation.

"The hospital. We'll get him in the evening."

"And?"

"They uh—"

Grandpa stopped. His focus shifted to something or someone behind me. I turned to see the woman, who had been interrogating me, walked towards us. Grandpa moved away and started talking to her. The way she walked reminded me of a model, walking awfully straight in those shiny black stilettos.

"We'll let you know more," said the lady.

"Thank you, Ms. Blackburn."

"Where will you be staying for now?"