CHAPTER FOUR: THE YET TO BE KNOWN
1257 Words
This has been the seventh time in three days I have been going to the police station, morning and night, as though it was a routine. I want my daughter's killer found, and I won't rest until I get that. I told Cathy not to read any mails to me and not to care about anything at this time...the office, my modelling deals. I have more important issues to deal with.
On my way to the station, I kept praying, hoping, wishing I could get a positive result. Six times I've gone there have been unproductive. I hope and pray this would not be the same.
"Ma'am, you are here again today," the detective in charge said as he saw me coming in.
I clutched my gown slightly so I could move faster without tripping over it.
"Yes… any news? You've found the person? Who is he? Tell me?" I looked around relentlessly, trying to see. I wasn't even sure what I was looking for.
The detective looked at me. It told me everything. He thought I was losing my mind.
Maybe I was.
I hadn't really had a proper bath; my hair was scattered, but I grabbed my bag and rushed out the moment I woke up. It felt like I hadn't been here in days to keep myself updated, but I had only left last night.
"Come, ma'am, I think you should sit. Should I get you water?" he said, gesturing towards his office.
I sat.
"I'm seated now… where is he? Or her? Or them? Where are they?" I pushed the bottle of water aside. "I don't want a drink."
He hesitated before speaking.
"We really haven't found anything just yet… we found the car. It is not registered, and there was nothing in it. But we are still investigating it."
Silence.
I stared at him. I wondered if he thought those words would make me relax. It was progress, but all I saw was incompetence! Failure!
I stood up and walked out. Then halfway, I stopped… turned… and walked right back in.
"You all are incompetent!" My voice echoed through the room. "The person who took my child is out there living freely, and now you want me to wait? For how long? An eternity?"
I paced for a while. I didn't want to cry again, at least not today, but their whole circus was pushing me.
"If you won't find that person…" My voice dropped… "then I will."
Another detective came in, hearing the commotion. "Ma'am, we understand how you feel, but—"
"Understand?" I laughed. A hollow, broken laugh. "You think you understand what I feel?"
"You understand what I feel?" I stepped closer.
"Did you watch your child die in your arms?
Did you hear her struggle to breathe? Did you feel her go cold?"
Another silence.
"Do you have children?"
No one answered.
"I thought so." My voice softened, but it hurt even more. "Then you don't tell me you understand something you've never lived through."
I paused, trying to catch my breath, then I spoke, crying. "Please just help me find my daughter's killer. I promise I'll give everything for them to be found… see… take my… my jewellery. I know I don't have much on right now. My bag… take it… you want my shoes?" I pulled everything, placing it on their counter.
They both stared at each other, then back at me. They could swear I was mad, yet they said nothing.
I picked up everything slowly. I stopped crying, then turned to leave. I turned back to them. "You will never see me here again!"
I got into the car and told the driver to move. He asked if I was going home, and I said no....just move. After a long drive, I settled at a park. Not the one where I took my poor child. I didn't even want to see or ever use that road again....worse still, step into that park.
It was an open space with a lot of lovely flowers, beautiful trees, even a waterfall, and the breeze out there was surreal. I sat at a particular spot. It was in this place that Richard proposed to me… in fact, at that exact spot, though a lot of changes had been made.
I closed my eyes for a bit to feel the warmth of the breeze that almost felt like an embrace. This was his and my favourite place. He would take my hand and laugh, and he would pluck some flowers and put them in my hair.
There was a time when this was real. I held it, felt it, but now I only carry memories… just in my head. At first, the memories would make me laugh and soften my heart, and before you know it, my heart is in so much pain, crying over moments that I can never get back and can never make new ones with same person.
In the serenity of the moment, my phone rang in my bag. I wondered why I didn't just leave the phone in the car. I needed this moment, and the last thing I wanted was anything to spoil this phase of memories. But the phone wouldn't stop ringing, so I picked it up.
It was Cathy.
She spoke, panting as she delivered the message. I jumped into the car and headed straight home.
"Mother, what is going on here? Why are you putting my things outside?" I asked.
Cathy had told me over the phone that my mother-in-law, Lady Evelyn, was putting my things outside the house.
"How dare you? You just called me your mother? If you happened to see your mother, wouldn't you know her?"
She replied, still ordering the people to move my things. I was tired, frustrated, and confused. If this were some months ago, they wouldn't have had this much courage. She knows how it would have ended. I stared at her.
"What? What do you want to do? Fling tables and chairs like you always do? I don't even know where my son picked you up from. You have a bad temper, bad life, bad profession. You're a bad wife and a bad mother." She paused. "Yes, I said it...a horrible one at that!"
This is the right time for everyone to get to me, for everyone to say trash to me… a crucial time in my life....the perfect time to make fun of Vanessa in all ways. I was actually expecting that.
I smiled. "Why are you taking my things out? My husband has more than ten houses. This is the only one I get to stay in… can't you all just let me be?"
I said in my lowest tone.
She turned to Stacey who stood beside her, and they both laughed briefly. "Husband? Wait… husband? You're even more stupid than I thought, Vanessa—or what's that your stage name again? Vanny?"
They both burst into another session of laughter.
I don't know what drama this is or what the cause of all this is… moving my things out of the house, but I'm soon going to find out.
I've never met people who will hate someone for being themselves and doing what they love until I met the Randolph family...Richard excluded. If I could not please them when my husband was alive and my daughter was alive, if they could not even pretend to love me then, how much more now?
I'm about to face the worst.
- Writer
