Darkest truths, p.17
Darkest Truths, page 17
Fortunately, Dad has his own private office on the top floor of the firm, so I should get some quiet—the quirks of being a partner, something that happened soon after my kidnapping. As we passed the other offices on the floor, Dad caught me scoping out the place and started giving me the ins and outs, thinking I was interested in who else occupied the space. Three of them belonged to the other senior lawyers, and the rest were co-habitant offices for some of the other lawyers in the firm when they were working on the cases with the seniors.
Coming into Dad's office was like stepping into another world, sending my jaw to the ground. He fucking had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a park with a pond. The rest of the office blatantly showed it was Dad's. His personality shined throughout the whole place. It has a mix of old-fashioned and modern elements throughout the space.
In front of the impressive windows, an antique oak table with elaborate details carved into its legs stands in front of an expensive black leather swivel chair. To the side, a bookshelf contains various lawyer-looking books and some old-fashioned antiques. He even has one of those old-fashioned letter openers on his desk.
The modern elements merge nicely with the older items, making the place stylish rather than making it look like a backstreet porn shop, each item complimenting Dad's personality.
Nearest to the door is a lounge-like area with expensive-looking leather chairs and an equally expensive leather couch surrounding a glass coffee table. And just like every office, the ironic leafy tree plants are dotted around the room.
Finishing the last bit of my Spanish workbook, I set it on the pile of other completed work with satisfaction. Though I have heard the frantic rustling of paper, muttering and cursing as my dad has worked through the documents of an urgent case, he has yet to get far in whatever he is working on where I have completed all my catch-up work.
Slipping the mechanic book out of my bag, I replace it with the completed work and sprawl across the leather couch to start reading. I must get so engrossed in the chapter that the sudden sound of Dad's chair rolling back on the floor makes me jolt with surprise.
"You ok, Dad?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Honey. I'm just having issues with this," he says in frustration, waving his hand over his desk to indicate the paper mess spread across it. "It's giving me a damn headache. I'm just going to pop and see Cynthia down the hall. I won't be long," I hear him mutter something about, hoping she will have found something before making his way to the door.
"Take your time. We don't have to be at the station for a few more hours, and I've got my book." I wave the book in the air as I continue reading it.
"Thank you," he calls over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. Poor Dad, he's been stressed out for the last couple of days. Maybe I could help him with whatever it is on his desk.
It couldn't hurt to have a look, could it?
Stretching off the couch, I plod over to his desk, where photos and other bits are spread across it. Glancing over the bits of documents visible, I figure out pretty quickly that Dad is trying to make a case against a Kevin Turner, who is pleading not guilty to murder.
You would think the images would affect me, but with the environment and things I have done, this is nothing. Oh, this is interesting. Moving things around, I slowly get a clearer picture. Stealing Dad's Post-it notes from the drawer in his desk, I add my notes to everything, using my knowledge to piece the bits together. I can see they have a strong case but needed help to prove that Kevin did it.
Lifting the next piece of evidence up to examine it, I find the golden nugget to nail the son of a bitch. A throat clearing in front of me startles me, and I slowly raise my gaze up guiltily to find Dad in front of me, sitting in one of the other chairs opposite with his arms crossed against his chest and his eyebrows raised eyes, shit busted.
"Though, it has been fun watching you-"
"Shit, sorry, Dad. I wanted to see what was stressing you out so much. How long have you been there?" I query as I scribble the last of my thoughts down on a piece of paper.
"About five minutes or so. Thank you for trying to help, Honey, but we will have to hope the jury believes us with what we have."
"But you can prove it's him, Dad."
"I wish I could, but it's all circumstantial. We just needed that-"
"No, Dad, you're not understanding me. Look here." I pull out the first piece of evidence and start explaining what everyone was missing and going through all my other notes and critical findings to prove that Kevin Turner is undeniably guilty of murder and that his alibi, without a doubt, is false before pulling out the golden nugget. "Now look at this."
"Well, blow me down. We've got him. We've actually got him." He stares up at the ceiling, and I can physically see the relief wash over him before he looks back at me. "How the hell did you…Shit, you shouldn't be seeing this."
"I won't tell anyone."
"It's not that simple. Hang on, how would you like to intern for me? You said you wanted to get a job. That way, the firm will pay you, and you will have the authority to look at it. I have been looking for someone to help me, and you have the knack for this. And a bonus for me, I will finally get to spend more time with you and catch up with all those years I lost with you."
"Fuck yes. Are you sure, though?" Having a legal job and some money coming in would be nice.
"Yes, there is no doubt in my mind and language."
He rushes out the door, shouting for someone to get an intern contract and NDA form immediately. After signing everything, he drags four others into the room with us, one of them being Cynthia, whom I met when we arrived at the office this morning. "We have him," he exclaims as soon as he shuts the door.
"What, how? We've spent days trying to make a solid case," Cynthia asks, and then Dad explains what they missed. And they all look utterly shocked when he explains proudly that his new intern worked it all out in less than an hour. Going back to my book, I let them carry on discussing how they are going to nail the son of a bitch.
◆◆◆
When we arrive at the station, we are immediately shown to Detective Brown's desk to wait for him, James having been called away to do something else. Due to Dad being a frequent visitor because of his job, they saw no reason for us to stay in the overcrowded main reception area. Patience, not being my virtue and all that jazz, I end up pacing circuits around the area containing more unattended desks and annoying Dad to no end. Bored with the same circuit, I roam down one of the empty interconnecting hallways to find a wide-open door. Enticed toward it, I am contemplating whether to investigate when I find myself already outside it. Well, it is better than twiddling my thumbs out here. Peeping through the doorway, I discover multiple boards around the room containing various information, probably on a current case.
Wanting to examine everything in more detail, I double-check my surroundings to ensure no one is around before slipping into the room. Surely, they wouldn't have had the door wide open if it were out of bounds. With that thought in mind, I slip into the room and push the door closed slightly to obscure anyone's view of me.
Advancing to the first board, I view its contents and notice it is a board solely on the victim's details. There are seven in total, all women. Shifting to the next board, it discloses all the gruesome crime scene photos, nothing I haven't seen before. Moving onto the last board, I find it has a list of suspects.
Looking at the photos and the notes in more detail, I can see a connection between six of the seven victims on the board. The one they have noted as the first victim of the serial killer is actually not related to the case and was committed by someone entirely different, and by the looks of the corpse, it was a crime of passion. Whereas the murderer for the other six murders left a calling card.
"Kayla, you shouldn't be in here," Dad growls at me, standing by the door. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I would like to know that, too." Dad jumps at Detective Brown's appearance. Obviously, he had been oblivious to the sound of Brown's footsteps. "No one should be in here apart from the people on this case," he narrows his eyes on me in a failed attempt to show he is unhappy, but Dad seems to buy it, nearly breaking the detective's resolve. Dad, you're meant to be a lawyer and able to interpret someone when they are lying.
"Well, they shouldn't leave the door wide open for anyone to walk in then, should they?" I reply sarcastically, my eyes roving back to the crime scene photos. "Plus. They aren't doing a very good job if they didn't realise that this woman wasn't killed by the same person as these six," I tell him, pointing at the woman called Clare before waving my finger at the others, while taking in more details of the scenes in the photos on the board.
"What do you mean?" Brown frowns at me, moving closer and looking at the board himself. "You have no clue what you're talking about. They were all committed by the same person."
"I wouldn't say that," Dad mutters, ruffling his hair. He is probably thinking of the case that I just solved for him.
"Look, this woman was murdered in an act of passion." Brown is about to open his mouth to argue with me. I know he is, so I quickly carry on. "These six. Were killed by the same person. The murderer left their calling card at the scene." I point at the small marking on one of the women before pointing them out on the other five. "By the looks of this woman, she is about my height, and this wound on her body would have had to be done by someone about this tall." I lift my hand over my head at a rough estimate. "You can back that up with the CCTV footage if you don't believe me."
"There are no cameras in the area. And who the hell are you?" I turn to find a group of people with coffees in their hands. Is this honestly the team looking for the serial killer? Did they really have to all get coffee at the same time? Surely catching the serial killer is more important than a coffee, and couldn't one person have gotten it for all of them?
"Yes, there is. Well, at this crime scene, there is. Look," I point to a building in the distance. "The camera, though far away, is pointing towards the area," the one who spoke storms up to the board and sees what I am pointing at. "It seems to be a good set-up, and your tech team should be able to pull something up. Well, that is if they haven't wiped it yet."
"Fuck. Your right. Someone get on to that now. No, at least three of you get on to that and find out who that camera belongs to. I want that footage now. Let's hope they haven't destroyed it already," he directs his team as he returns his steely gaze to the photos again. "How did none of us see this? So, where is this so-called calling card?" He asks me eagerly, staring at me hopefully, excited about the new leads. Pointing to the marks on the bodies again in the photos, I watch as he gets closer to examine them. I know it is small, but it's still there. "How did none of us see that? Which force do you work for again?"
"She works for none, Lee." Completely confused, he faces Detective Brown, who grins like a Cheshire cat. Furrowing my brows, I suddenly remember I forgot to tell them something.
"Oh. I just want to add a couple more things, if you don't mind." Turning their attention back to me, they nod for me to continue like obedient puppies do. "If you can get a hold of that CCTV footage from this scene," I point at a camera just out of sight, "you may be able to get a reflection from that there." I move my finger across to a piece of broken mirror by a bin. "Also, from what I can see, you are having trouble finding a connection between these women. But have you thought about a connection with a place the men in their lives may have also been to?" They all look at me, stumped, not understanding what I am asking.
"You see this person. She has just had a wedding anniversary, according to your write-up here. This woman had just gotten married, and this one was about to get married. She has recently got engaged. She has had a birthday. And well, I haven't worked her out yet because I got interrupted, but my point is. New necklace, ring, bracelet, most likely wedding band," I tell them, pointing to the objects in turn. "She could have gone looking for wedding gifts, who knows, and like I said, I don't know about her. I don't see any new jewellery on her, but according to your notes, she's not the first, so it's not as though she was the one they practised on. I would say there is another body somewhere you haven't found yet because these are clean kills."
"Are you telling me you think someone at a jewellery store is responsible?"
"I don't know. I'm just suggesting you look into the jewellery. I'm a seventeen-year-old kid, for Christ's sake. How am I meant to know?" Do they expect me to go out and find the killer, too? I probably could, but I am not telling them that. I've given them everything I know for now.
"You-You're a wh-what?" Lee stutters, swivelling his head back between me and Detective Brown, who is still smiling like a damn Cheshire cat.
"This. Detective Lee. Is none other than Mikayla, now known as Kayva," Detective Brown says proudly. "She is here to give evidence for her kidnapping case and also for-"
"Wait. James's girl? This is James's girl. She's the one he couldn't stop talking about? Well, more like bragging about," Lee chuckles, making the others around him chuckle alongside him, and I feel my face heat up. "I thought her name was Ava, though."
"Yeah. This is her." I feel my face turn beetroot red with embarrassment as they all stare at me with huge grins, and Dad puffs up his chest proudly. "Now, if you will excuse us, I will take her out of your way. I know you are busy right now, even more so now."
"But she...She blew this case wide open. And she still hasn't told me why she thinks this one isn't part of the serial killer case," he rambles, flustered while staring at the boards.
"Apparently, he wants you to do all their work for them. Go on, Stealthy."
"What kind of nickname is that?" I question with a raised eyebrow. Dad looks between us, seeming confused with how familiar we are with each other, but there is no way I am telling him, and I know Brown won't give me away.
"Quite right, Night Owl." He raises his right eyebrow back at me with a crooked grin. Shaking my head, I get on with my explanation to Lee, with the others listening in. They seem as captivated as Lee is to know what I have to say.
"Ok, this woman here." I tap the board to emphasise who I am talking about. "There is no calling card left behind."
"The killer may not have left one on the first kill," an uptight woman at the back of the group snarks.
"True, but if you had let me finish, I would have told you that her wounds are more passionate than the other six. These are just sloppy."
"Signs of a first kill," she says, rolling her eyes.
"There is no way someone could go straight from this to this in that time frame. It is too close together and wouldn't fit the profile of the murderer," I say, making sure they understand that this is definitely not their serial killer's first kill that I was talking about. "This Clare probably had a secret admirer or even someone who was just following her. Probably best to check out if anyone was a frequent eater at the diner she worked at."
"She didn't work at a diner. She was a student and worked at a clothes store. This is ridiculous. This child knows nothing," the woman says, trying to belittle me. Looking closer at the woman, I can tell she used to be one of those Queen bees at school. She would be a stunner with her sky-blue eyes and wavy blonde locks if she didn't have such a snobbish attitude. I am unsure why she has a problem with me, as I have never met her before, and I am only giving the information that Lee wanted from me.
"Nah. With those legs and arms, she has either been doing some serious workouts or working somewhere serving food. You sure she didn't have a second job on the side?" I quirk my eyebrow up in challenge. Brown gives me a slight nod of approval for standing my ground against her.
"None of her friends mentioned that she had a second job."
"She probably didn't tell them, if I'm right. Why don't you send some cops to the smaller, run-down diners and cafes and see if they had her as an employee? They probably paid her in cash so it could be a family-run business, and due to the college she is attending, she probably didn't want anyone to know about this job. Afraid of being embarrassed by her peers," I counter, irritating the woman further. She picked the wrong person to pick on. I eat people like her for breakfast.
"How do you even see this?" Lee asks me, breaking up the conflict, while I give her a withering glare to shut her up. She must be low in the pecking order, and if she doesn't change her ways, she'll probably stay that way.
"Been on the streets for ten years. You see a lot, and you learn to pick things up, but like I said, I could be wrong. It may give you some ideas to work on, though. And expand your thoughts on the case to help you solve it."
"Right," he says, and I take that as my cue to leave as the others in the room join him.
Following Detective Brown, he leads us into a room further down the hall where it's all set up, ready for me to give my testimony. Taking the seat he indicates for me, I flop onto it and start fidgeting. I'm really uncomfortable with what I'm about to do. Peeking a glance out the corner of my eye at Dad, I see him settle himself in the chair next to me, all formal and shit, as though this is any other case and not his daughters. I start to worry whether he can deal with this. They were upset when James brought me home.
How on earth will he deal with how I have lived the past years?
"Look, Dad. I appreciate you being here, but perhaps it is best if I do this on my own." I tell him while staring down at the table. I still feel his gaze bore into the side of my head, though.
"I have not been able to be there for you for the past ten years, and I damn well am not going to go another moment without supporting you. I have just seen all that evidence and dealt with gruesome cases in the past. I am more than capable of dealing with this," he says sternly, with no room for argument.
