Hello Darkness

Chapter Three

The darkness of the parking lot could be beautiful. The lights floating along the edges leave my lonely red jeep in the middle, cloaked in blackness—the perfect place to view the stars. But to me, the shadows are alive—they creep closer, ready to gouge me when they show their fangs.

Breccan's steps echo mine as I peek in the back seat of my jeep, Josie. You can never be too cautious, especially when we don't know what's out here. A gentle breeze brushes all the hairs up on my arms.

"Are you sure I can't drive you home?" Breccan leans against Josie's rusty frame.

"Yeah, me getting out of a cop car is the last thing I need the neighbors to see." I pull my keys out of my pocket. 

He crosses his arms. "It's not like they haven't seen me there before."

"But I'm never getting out of your police car," I say opening the door.

"Then let me call Alma."

I scoff. "As if you already haven't."

He looks away, running his hand through his hair. "You're right, and I told her I'd give you a ride home."

I roll my eyes and rub my forehead, the prick of a headache starting above my right eye. "I'm not a child. I can drive myself home."

"I'd rather you didn't." There's hesitance in his voice.

I know they're worried because of my panic attack, but I feel fine now that I'm out of there.

"Do I need to get a breathalyzer?"

I force a laugh—he can't be serious. "Don't be stupid. I had one drink and it was nearly six hours ago. I can drive myself home." I slide into Josie's cracked leather seat and slam the door, but the damn latch doesn't hitch, and it bounces back open—fuck today.

Breccan grabs the door and holds it open. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. We just care about you—"

"Caring doesn't mean you have to baby me. I'm telling you, I'm fine. I just want to go home." My voice is snappier than I usually get with him. I know he means well, but I'm tired and quite honestly, I just want a moment to breathe.

"Okay." He raises his hands in surrender and steps away. "I'll come to the house when I'm done here."

I nod and pull Josie's door shut, carefully lifting the handle to ensure it latches properly. The starter clicks several times but doesn't turn over—is the whole world against me tonight? Finally, on the third attempt she roars to life. Breccan gives me a we're going to look at that later look and waves me off.

In the rearview mirror, he pulls something from his pocket. It lights his face, and he lifts it to his ear. I roll my eyes, of course, he's already calling Alma. I do my inventory check: keys; phone—back pocket; purse—I feel for the strap—shit. I left it in the interview room. There's no way Breccan will let me leave if I go back. Instead, when I stop at the street, I shoot him a quick text: Grab my purse, please? Hopefully he'll see it before he leaves—if not, I'll get it in the morning.

As soon as I turn onto the street, I regret riding home by myself. I'd hoped the drive would clear my mind, at least for the night. Unfortunately, the silence of Josie's broken radio and the steady hum of her tires only gives me more time to succumb to my thoughts.

It's odd, after something tragic happens, your mind remains in a constant loop. You keep thinking back to the moment just before it happened and imagining different scenarios. What if I'd done one thing differently?

What if I'd gone with her?

What if I'd gone out when I heard the bang?

What if—