PERFECT SHADOWS

12

PERFECT SHADOWS 12

The corridor outside administration was loud and tense. Detective Jaco van der Merwe did not knock when he entered the clerk’s office. He pushed the door open hard. The young clerk behind the desk jumped.

“Where is the email about Selene Marlowe collapsing?” he demanded.

She blinked at him. “Sir?”

“The medical report. The one that said she collapsed. Twice.”

Her hands started shaking over the keyboard.

“I-I didn’t see it, Detective.”

Jaco stepped closer to the desk.

“You didn’t see it?”

“I’ve been busy, sir,” she said quickly. “The Minister’s office has been demanding files since this morning. Every department wants documents. I’ve been sending reports non-stop. I haven’t checked the recent emails.”

“Check,” he said sharply.

She opened the inbox. Her face drained of colour. There it was. Subject line in bold.

URGENT: INMATE SELENE MARLOWE - MEDICAL INCIDENT.

Sent the previous night. Marked high priority.

She swallowed. “Sir… it was here.”

Jaco’s jaw tightened.

“Do you understand what is happening out there?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly.

“The world is accusing us of brutality,” he said. “They are saying we purposely hid her condition. That we said nothing about her collapsing because we are trying to kill her.”

Her eyes widened.

“No, sir, that’s not true-”

“It looks true,” he cut in. “It looks like we ignored medical warnings.”

She stood up quickly. “I’m sorry, Detective. I didn’t mean- I just-”

Her apology sounded small. As if that made it better. As if negligence was softer than cruelty. Jaco rubbed his face with both hands.

“This is not just paperwork,” he said quietly but firmly. “This is a human being.”

Before she could answer, footsteps approached. Three people in formal attire walked into the office area. Two women and one man. Calm. Controlled. Official badges around their necks. One of the women spoke first.

“We’re from Human Rights.”

The air shifted.

“We are here,” she continued, “to ensure that any further interviews with Selene Marlowe are suspended immediately.”

Jaco turned slowly to face them.

“Suspended?” he asked.

“Yes,” the man replied. “Given her medical condition and the current international attention, she is no longer to be subjected to questioning without independent legal and medical oversight.”

The clerk looked like she wanted to disappear.

“We have reason to believe,” the second woman added carefully, “that there may have been procedural failures.”

Jaco let out a slow breath. Failures. That word again.

“We will be reviewing her treatment in custody,” the first woman said. “Effective immediately.”

The message was clear. They did not trust the police. Not anymore. Jaco stood there, feeling the weight of it all. Selene Marlowe had collapsed twice. The email had been ignored. And now the world was watching. Very closely.

.........

Detective Jaco van der Merwe stood outside the prison hospital room with his hands on his hips. The doctor stepped out.

“She’s awake,” he said. “Vitals stable. She says she feels fine.”

Jaco frowned. “Fine?”

The doctor nodded. “She even asked if she could continue her interview next week.”

Jaco closed his eyes for a second and sighed. Next week. He already knew what that meant. More meetings. More audits. More Human Rights observers. More politicians asking questions they should have asked years ago. He rubbed his forehead. This case was no longer just his. It belonged to the country now. That evening he drove home in silence. His head was heavy.

When he reached his house, he sat in the car for a moment before getting out. Then he heard it. Laughter. His wife’s laughter. Light. Relaxed. Comfortable. It made him pause. He walked to the door quietly and unlocked it. The laughter continued from the kitchen. He stepped inside. And froze. At his dining table sat Selene Marlowe. She was leaning back in the chair, smiling, speaking softly to his wife as if they were old friends having tea. Jaco blinked. His heart jumped into his throat. She looked different. Her hair was blonde. Bright blonde. Not the dark, almost black hair he had seen in prison that morning. His brain struggled to catch up. Slowly, his hand moved to his holster. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at her.

His wife gasped. “Jaco! What are you doing?”

The woman at the table lifted her hands calmly.

“Whoa,” she said firmly. “Easy.”

Her voice was similar. But not the same.

“I’m not Selene,” she said. “I’m Sloan Grey.”

Jaco did not lower the gun.

“Identify yourself.”

She reached slowly into her jacket and pulled out a badge.

“I’m with the FBI.”

He stared at the badge. Then at her face.

“You look exactly like her.”

Sloan gave a small, tight smile. “We’re twins.”

The word hung in the air.

“Twin sister to Selene Marlowe.”

Jaco’s grip tightened slightly before he finally lowered the weapon. His wife looked confused and shaken. Sloan stood up slowly.

“Detective,” she said calmly, “we need to talk. Outside.”

He hesitated, then nodded. They stepped out into the yard. The evening air felt cooler than before. Jaco kept his eyes on her.

“Start talking.”

Sloan’s expression changed. It was no longer friendly.

“Adrian Marlowe is not dead.”

The words hit him like a punch.

“That’s impossible,” Jaco said immediately. “We identified the body.”

Sloan shook her head. “You identified a body. Burned. Damaged. Rushed through processing.”

Jaco felt his pulse rise.

“Adrian Marlowe is alive,” she said firmly. “And Selene has him somewhere.”

Silence filled the space between them. Jaco stared at her. Inside the prison, Selene Marlowe had collapsed twice. Outside the prison, the government was under pressure. And now. The man believed to be dead might be alive. And in Selene’s hands. Jaco realised something then. This case was nowhere near finished.