Working Cases - Episode 9

 

Two weeks later…
The department held a wake in her honor. She was given a burial fit for such an excellent detective as she was. The Chief, several police officers, friends and family, all had wonderful things to say about her. I had a lot of things to say too. She had been a friend where I had none. A partner when I needed one . A helping hand whether I asked for it or not. A welcome sight after a long hard day’s work. A voice I longed to hear everywhere and anywhere. And more than that, recently, we had opened up the possibility to be more than just friends—a prospect that was as exciting as it was terrifying. But she had died before I could tell her. And so I had said nothing. 
I listened to everyone else talk about how wonderful she was. Even Gabe gave a few words. But I just couldn’t. Thankfully, Amelia understood and she kept other people from bothering me.
Surprisingly, putting her murderer in jail and making sure he stayed there did nothing for me. As much as I tried to hold on to the hate and anger, I found it slipping away. It was terrifying—like a seat being pulled out from under you. I found it wasn’t Carpenter I hated. I doubted it would mean much to me if he got out. It was the other guy—the elusive snake who for all intents and purposes did not exist

All episodes of this story can be found here >> https://www.ebonystory.com/story/working-cases

. How did I expect to win if I didn’t even know the game I was playing, or who I was playing against? Or had already lost and just didn’t know it yet?
There was nothing to do. No leads to follow. All I could do was sit tight and wait for the man in the shadows to make his move and hope that he would reveal his intentions or leave a trail that led back to him. 
Gabe was more distant nowadays, more withdrawn. I guess we all have our own way of dealing with grief. I barely saw him in the weeks following Natalie’s death. Amelia was, well Amelia. Always there, she helped me do the things I couldn’t remember to do myself. She was the most composed of all of us and did her best to hide her grief. 
I carried on the only way I knew how, throwing myself further into my work and chasing shadows, trying to find someone who for all I knew didn’t exist. I guess I could have talked to Gabe, tried to see how he was doing. Or acknowledge Amelia’s efforts to hold the fort. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was a shit leader, and I knew it.
It was a week after the burial when Amelia walked into my office with a look on her face that said she was tired and angry—maybe more angry than tired.
“Yes, Amelia?” I raised my head to look at her.
“When she died, I thought maybe I should give you some time to work out your issues. It’s been three weeks.” She stated matter-of-factly.
“I don’t follow. What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve spent enough time doing whatever the hell it is you're doing. And it is tiring and depressing and infuriatingly painful to work around you. You're dysfunctional, to put it mildly. You don’t care what happens to the people around you.” She spat.
I was taken aback. How dare she? “Don’t you dare say I didn’t care–––”
“Oh, but you don’t. You may think you care, but caring is more action than pleasant thought. You have to actually do something to care, but it’s all in your head and you think that’s enough? Tell me! Do you think that’s enough?” She shouted.
“I--I, that’s not… It isn’t…” the words weren’t making their way out properly. I didn’t want to think about what she was saying. I didn’t want to believe that any of it was true. I knew I had been distant, but I cared, damn it! They should see that, shouldn’t they?
“You're doing it again.” She said, looking at me with disgust.
“What?” I spat.
“Talking in your head. Rationalizing everything. Caring in your head, but not actually caring enough to tell us anything, to let us know what you're thinking. You think we’re all psychic? That we can all tell what is going on in Nicodemus’ head and can automatically understand that he cares so, so very much about any of us!” She was crying now, “’Cause that’s rich, Nico, that’s real rich.”
“I didn’t mean to… It’s been hard to… I can’t even… I'm sorry…” My eyes were misting over, and unshed tears were begging to be freed. I cleared my throat and started over, “Good morning, Amelia. How are you, today?”
She breathed a small laugh. “I'm not fine,” she sank into the chair beside me, “I’m heartbroken, and stressed, and traumatized. And it’s hard, and painful, to be all those things at once.”
I wrapped an arm around her. “I'm sorry you had to go through any of it. It’s hard for all of us, but I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for you. You didn’t even miss a beat.”
“Well, you all are relying on me, so, I can’t really afford to miss a beat, can I?” she whispered.
“I'm sorry. It shouldn’t be like that. It should be all of us together. You should be able to break down and cry whenever you need to. All of us should. I'm sorry I haven’t been there for you. I’ll try to be from now on.”
“Apology accepted,” she half laughed, half cried. “What are we going to do now?”
“Take the week off.” I cleared the table with one hand, pushing all the files and folders to the floor. “Not alone. Together. All of us. You, me and Gabe.”
 “Do you even know where he is?” she asked.
I nodded, remembering the hill that overlooked the sea. “I think I have a pretty good idea where.”