RAVEN

I sit in a dimly lit police interrogation room, waiting for someone to come and talk to me. I lean forward in my seat and stare directly at the one way mirror fully aware that there is someone there watching me. Though I can’t see them, I feel their gaze on me like a prickling needle. I tilt my head and give a slow deliberate wave. The movement is like a thrown gauntlet.

As if on cue the door opens and a stately looking man walks in holding a thick file. I note his shoes. Boots, scuffed, but serviceable. So perfectly functional. The classic look of a law enforcement officer.

Ex-military

“Erect posture, Shifty eyes, functional boots. Your dominant hand is free to immediately seize your weapon if need be ”

I give him a slow perusal. “I’m going to guess, ex military” I purposely make my voice so bored it borders on emotionless.

“Miss Derian”

He inclines his head in greeting and I give him my most disarming smile.

“That’s me”

“You have quite a reputation”

“Do I now….. detective, agent, or whoever you're supposed to be?” I drawl, keeping my voice politely curious.

“I am detective Matthews and this evening a body was found on the freeway. Her name was Rachel Harper and she was found with two gunshot wounds.”

I furrow my eyebrows at him, and lean back in my chair folding my arms loosely. He watches me quietly for a moment before he starts arranging pictures of Rachel in front of me. In the first one there’s a close up of her face. The first thing I notice is how her hair is still in its chignon, as neat as when she was in my apartment. Her once vibrant face is so pale and still and marring her face is a single gunshot wound . I immediately scan the angles.

Execution style, 9mm

The ringing in my ear starts again.

He points at the first picture “One to the head”

He lays the second picture down and it’s a close up picture of the gunshot wound to her chest, the red stain is so dark that at first glance it appears black.

“And one to the chest”

The ringing in my ear becomes louder, but I keep my expression carefully neutral.

“Our records show that she made 3 calls to you in the last hour”

A slow surprised blink is all the emotion that I let myself show as I fight the instinct to pick up my phone and check.

“Well I hope your records also show that I never answered those calls.”

Detective Matthew nods sagely and thumbs through some of the file before pulling out a document. He places it in front of me.

It’s a scanned picture of the two of us. Rachel and I are dressed in marshmallow costumes. I recognize the picture. It was our last day in university, and Rachel was convinced we had to do something memorable to make our last day last forever in our minds.

I school my features to mask the rage that is steadily building inside me. I stare at the man in front of me and imagine all the different ways I could make him suffer for what he is doing to me right now.

“That was gotten from the purse of the victim.”

He pauses, as if giving me time to digest the information, but I recognize what he is actually doing. He wants to destabilize me, he wants to catch me unaware. The rage that has been steadily building, rises in my chest, quick and scalding but I push it away. I lock it down in a box with the rest of my emotions to be examined at a later time.

“Can you clearly define your relationship with the victim?”

“Rachel”

“What?”

“Her name was Rachel, and she was my friend”

“Miss Derian, let’s stop dancing around this, I need to know if your father is in anyway connected to the murder of your friend”

“So now we come to the heart of the matter” I let out an exhale.

“We know that you work for your father in some capacity”

I arch one brow “And what capacity is that detective?”

“In an executioner’s capacity, miss Derian”

I let out a humourless chuckle, low and biting. I know what the detective is after and right now, I’m over it. I need to leave the confines of this room.

“Detective my friend was murdered in cold blood. Your job is to find her and not make baseless accusations against me.”

He opens his mouth to say something but I interrupt

“I came here in good faith detective, since I thought this was about my friend, but if you are going to make assumptions based on lack of evidence , I will ask that all communications be handled through my lawyer” I stand, the scraping from the legs of the chair screeching in the silent room, and walk out the door.

As I leave the police station my phone starts ringing.

Father flashes on my screen. For a moment I consider not answering, I think about how good it would be to launch my phone into the air and scream until my throat is raw and bloody. I think about how good it would be to hunt down the killers of my friend. I think about how it would feel to rip them limb from limb, how good their blood would feel on my skin.

I hesitate for only a moment before sliding my finger on the screen of my phone to answer.

“Hello”

“My dear Raven” My fathers voice is low and as grating as usual but today, there is an undertone of regret.

“I am so very sorry for your loss my girl” I blink. I heard about Rachel’s death less than an hour ago But he already knows. It shouldn’t surprise me anymore, his reach, but of course, for any thing that concerns me, dear daddy is always aware.

“Thank you father” I don’t let my emotions color my voice. He would view it as a sign of weakness. To him, that was a crime punishable by only one thing, Death. Daughter or not.

“Now, I will give you the night to grieve but come tomorrow you will be in my office and we will discuss business as usual.”

Only my father could put a timer on grief.

“ I have a new assignment for you.” My body tenses at his words.

“Abroad Or within the country?” I ask

“Tomorrow, Raven” his voice is clipped. The call ends.

From the corner of my vision I see a black car peel away from the parking lot of the police station and it sinks into me again how much Rachel was right about the level of control my father has over my life.

I remain standing at the entrance of the police station unable to move. The pictures the detective replay in my mind over and over.

My ears start ringing again. Low at first, then growing in intensity, pressure builds behind my eyes making my vision blurry, and my breaths turns jagged. Coming out in staccato bursts.

Panic attack

I pinch myself repeatedly in the crook of my elbow until my vision clears, my breaths even out and the pressure building behind my eyes recedes.

I walk to my car and open the driver's door. Immediately I spot a single black rose on the passenger’s seat. It’s a symbol of loss and mourning. A clear message from my father. I know that for tonight, he will respect me and let me mourn in private.