Confessions of a Murderess

Relationships

Despite all the evidence seeming to incriminate Charles Lancaster, I sensed his genuine sadness. His grief was real. And the photo, though difficult to explain, aligned with Vanessa Jones' testimonies.

— Miss Norman, are you there? — Inspector Nortgen said over the phone.

— I'm here — I put him on speaker.

— I hope I'm not interrupting your reports.

— What do you want, Inspector?

— I have some terrible news — he sighed deeply. — The girl, Leise Avlis, has passed away.

Leise was not only an important witness but also a girl full of dreams. Though she left too soon, she left us a legacy.

— When did she die? — I asked, disbelieving.

— Yesterday morning, near a cofee.

— Inspector, all our witnesses need protection. Where were your men at that moment?

— It seems to have been an accident, miss — Inspector Nortgen replied. — We can't control these things, but I'll pray for her family.

Josh Campbell's Grimoire — on the day Kimberly disappeared, a book by that name vanished from the library shelves. Titled "The Higher Truth," the pages of that single copy, sold long ago, described the secrets of a blood pentagram. In the police force, crimes involving ritualistic elements were often linked to individuals with mental disorders. History had presented us with many sociopaths seeking personal gain through high magic rituals. Unlike Kimberly's death, Leise's body was found with no clear signs of violation, but on the lower part of her back was a tattoo of a pentagram.

Just like the hundreds of people passing through the museum daily, Adam didn't seem suspicious. In fact, he was an ordinary and polite man. He called me when we changed numbers. He said he wanted to do some research for his company. I got closer to get to know him better. We had many meetings in restaurants, pubs, and inside the library itself. A month later, I accepted his invitation to visit his apartment.

During this uncertain time, Christian ordered that no agents be present at the museum during the final phase of the investigation, warning that a police riot could frighten Quinn Solo, except for Sarah, as she already had permission to check the library's computers.

— Ellis, I'm at the library now. — Sarah reported via call. — Where are you?

— Inside Adam's apartment. I'm setting up the cameras.

— What do you want me to do?

— All the books have digital copies as a security measure. They're on a computer in the HR department's office. I want you to download a Grimoire called "The Higher Truth."

— Alright.

The 4th of July holiday was tedious. Not because Sarah called me every hour, or because Collie drooled on the carpets that weren't mine, but because being with Adam was worse than being at the police.

— Jacqueline, did your parents really get married during a shift at the Charlotte hospital? — Adam asked me, for the thirtieth time.

— That was 15 years ago... — I said.

— I used to live in Charlotte. Seems like we have a lot in common, don't we?

— Does that also include me hating the museum? — I shook my head.

— If we get married, you can leave the museum whenever you want.

Adam was lying, and he knew I suspected it. He never had any intention of getting married, never cared about anyone. He thought he knew everything, except what we were to each other. Ignoring his kisses, his invitations to have s*x, but agreeing to sleep in the same bed as him was a bit contradictory for a man and dangerous for a woman.

To make things worse, aside from deflecting his advances, around dusk, I received a voicemail from my mother. From her efforts to soften the facts, I didn't need to hear everything to know that the news from the other side of Virginia wasn't pleasant.

— Are you okay, Jacqueline? — Adam looked at me as I avoided his gaze.

— I'm not... not okay.

— What happened?

I went to the kitchen and asked Collie to wake up. Sensing my unease, he woke up a bit sad too. We crossed the door and walked down the hallway in silence.

— What's wrong with you? — Adam tried to catch up to me, in vain.

— I need to leave! — I shouted. — I'm sorry!

He didn't understand what I was doing. I opened the bag leaning against the headboard of the bed, grabbed the jacket and put it on over my blouse. Then, I put on my shoes, went out onto the street, and disappeared into the darkness.

Adam sent me many messages, but I didn't reply to any of them. The next morning, he called and got no answer. Four days later, I decided to write him an email, telling him everything:

Yesterday my sister had to go back to the hospital. I was tense all day, so I couldn't focus on our meeting. I'll be returning to Charlotte, and I'm not sure when I'll be back again. I'm sorry for leaving abruptly. We'll reunite soon. With love,

Jacqueline.

I requested a leave from the police to dedicate my time solely to Sophia, but Agatha didn't understand my feelings, even though I explained all the reasons. She made me feel guilty for having to step away from the Quinn Solo case, but I would have felt even more guilty if I left Sophia alone.

Staying at the hospital, waiting for the doctors' answers, became the best choice, even though the mornings felt bitter, and the afternoons were no longer the same.

In the second week of hospitalization, Sophia showed slight improvement. She woke up less swollen and in less pain, but seeing her so fragile reminded me of when we were little, spending Sundays in the park and her falling asleep in my lap.

I remember Sophia being diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma three months after becoming the captain of the school's handball team. Once, after a practice, her legs went numb and turned yellow. The latest updates on her health had been worrying. Fever. Red patches on her skin. Shortness of breath... That's when I truly understood how much she was suffering.

— Miss Norman, the cancer is spreading to the bones — the doctor said in one of our private conversations.

Metastasis was the word we didn't want to hear, but it echoed in my thoughts. And even though no one could admit the failure of all possible treatments, I prepared myself to comfort my mother if Sophia died.

When my sister died, my mother cried over anything that reminded her of her. She cried while touching her fingers to the photos hanging on the headboard of the bed, while handling her girl's clothes, or when putting away the folded objects in the wardrobe drawers. I cried twice under the shower. I had many dreams that connected me to her. It was as if I wasn't moving forward. As if that sorrow would never leave me.

After the hardest week of my life, when I was planning to leave the FBI forever, Agatha called me and asked me to come back. Despite everything that happened, I still believe that continuing the investigations was the best choice, both for me and for the people who wanted the killer caught. So I got closer to Adam again. It was easy to convince him that we needed to be close to each other. I also got closer to Max. I visited the Curie farm. The staff recognized me, which made my entry easier.

Dorothy France's farm, adjacent to Mrs. Mesdra's property, covered 2 square kilometers of mountains and plains. The access road, a muddy dirt path, wasn't that far from downtown Porstmouth. Near where Kimberly died, a few meters away from the pine forest, many cattle had fled.

On a misty Saturday morning with little sun, a typical winter day, after storing the feed in the barns, Max saw me from a distance and came to greet me, surprised by my visit.

— Hello, Ellis — he took off his gloves and greeted me.

— Do you have time to talk with me? — I asked.

— Has something happened?

— Sophia... — I cut to the chase — Sophia has died.