Twin Twist

Chapter3-Lena’s perspective

After work the following day, I was standing inside the police station, staring at Detective Morris who sat in an uncomfortable looking chair in his office. "Lena, are you sure that what you are saying is true? Are you confirming that Caleb Fisher Brooks is the man you met last night?” He asked, one brow raised up. “Please sit down.” He added.

"Yes." There was no hesitance attached to my answer,as I sat down. "He goes by Ethan Brooks now. But I would recognize him anywhere."

Morris leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed. "If he was really trying to start over, why keep the name Brooks? That does not make any sense.“

I clenched my fists in my lap. "I don't know why he decided to keep the last name Brooks. But it's him. I'm sure of it."

He sighed, dragging a hand across his jaw. "Lena, Caleb is not even amongst us. He was locked up about four years ago for gang activities. This case was closed five years ago.”

My chest burned. "No. That's not possible. Just like the senior officer back then forced me to drop the case-cause he was on Caleb's payroll." My old bitterness spilled through cracked voice. "I was only 19 then. Nobody listened. But I'm not that little girl anymore, detective. And the officer who bullied me into silence is six feet under the ground now with maggots probably having a feast on his big belly. This time, I am not backing down."

He studied me for a very long moment and then nodded slowly. "Alright. But the only way we get clarity is by checking the prison records. If Caleb Brooks was really locked up, there'll be a file. If he's still inside, we'll know."

I followed him out of the station, heart pounding.

The maximum-security jail loomed on the horizon like a fortress. Barbed wire and high concrete barriers that seemed to aim toward the sky. Guard towers stood soo high and might , the guards were armed to the teeth, their rifles gleaming in the midday sun. As we passed through the enormous gates, I felt my legs shake, and a gulp forced down my throat at the sound of metal doors slamming behind us. I had never visited this location before. The air felt heavy and metallic, and there was a strong antiseptic odor. In the distance, men yelled, their ferocious, vicious sounds echoing off stone walls.

My stomach knotted. This had been Caleb's world. A world filled with gangs, violence, power. His is the place where men like him belonged, with no innocent teenage girl in sight.

Detective Morris walked with sure steps, but I felt the weight of every door that clanged shut behind us. At the front desk, he showed his badge.

"We're here to see Caleb Fisher Brooks," he said.

The guard behind the thick glass raised his brows, then frowned as he typed into the computer. His eyes flicked up, cautious. "That's...not possible."

Morris leaned forward. "Why not?"

The guard hesitated, glanced at the armed officer posted nearby, then lowered his voice. "Brooks isn't here anymore."

A chill ran down my spine. "What do you mean, not here?"

The guard looked up, as if I was sole unwanted guest intruding and I instinctively took a step back.

“Where is Caleb Fished Brooks?” Detective Morris asked

The guard's fingers tapped nervously on the counter. "He escaped. About a year ago. During a transfer. A squad went after him. There was a firefight. He took bullets-lots of them. Rumor is, he didn't make it. But his body was never recovered."

I blinked, the world tilting slightly. Dead? Or hiding?

Morris nodded curtly. "Thank you for the information." He turned on his heel, motioning for me to follow.

Outside, I found it hard to contain my rage, because from the look of things, Morris was giving up on the case before it even started.

"So that's it?" I demanded. "You're just going to believe he's dead?I saw him last night! That was him! He came into my house, he is engaged to my sister! His face is the same. He is not dead, he is faking his death, to trick the law, to trick everyone . He came back to get his revenge and I am sure it won't be anything good even though I do not know what he has in mind yet." All that rushed out in one breath, leaving me gasping for breath when I finished.

Morris slowed, looking at me seriously but not harshly. "Lena, without evidence, the case can't be reopened. You withdrew it five years ago. That's the record. And right now? All we have is your word against his new life. No fingerprints. No photos. Nothing that is tangible enough to demand for the case to be reopened or the man you are accusing to be placed on our radar.”

Frustration burned slow and hot in my chest. "So what should I do? Pretend I haven't seen him? Pretend he hasn't destroyed me?"

He sighed. "No. If you actually believe Ethan Brooks is Caleb, then you watch him. You tail him. But unless you bring me hard evidence, my hands are tied. You get something tangible, you come straight to me."

I swallowed hard over the lump in my throat and forced myself to nod. But inside, my resolve was already burning. If the system wouldn't fight for me, I would fight for myself.

On the way home, the words kept echoing: Dead. Rumors. No body. He wasn't dead. I felt it in my bones. Caleb was alive. And he was hiding behind the name Ethan.

Jenna was waiting in the living room for me as I entered through the door, arms crossed.

"Where were you?" she demanded, and her tone was sharper than usual.

I froze. "Work."

She raised her brows. "It's 6 p.m., Lena. Your office closed about 3 hours ago."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. She stepped closer, studying me.

"Why were you at the police station?" she asked quietly.