Claire
Istared at the jewelry on my vanity, willing it to disappear, wanting to erase every clue suggesting Aiken had ever existed.
I wanted him gone from my life.
Not really.
Sadly, the amethyst earrings and bracelet winked at me, the light catching the gems, purple specks floating around the room.
The damn broach too.
Christ.
It had been two days since the police officer visited me.
I’d been down to the station, my nose red and raw from being sick and crying nonstop, demanding for someone to call Aiken.
Mary had sat with me, holding my hand, rubbing my back, warming my cold body, keeping me tight next to her.
“What about my classes?” I didn’t even care about the part she’d played in all of this. I needed a friend.
“Don’t worry about those. I have someone covering them.”
“I have to worry about something,” I said to her while sitting in a private room at the police station. Why was I always left by myself with no one to worry about? I missed Abby. And Aiken. Even David, for a split second.
I felt like I’d crack in half from loneliness when a federal agent of some sort finally met with us. He showed us??? a picture of Jeannie and a copy of her statement taking responsibility for the explosion that took Abby’s life. Jeannie had also laid claim to the most recent bombing gone wrong. The agent had a lengthy file of chat rooms Jeannie had visited, commenting as Peace4A&A, her screen name. I wasn’t sure what it signified, but I knew it was a clue.
My head ached.
“I don’t think there’s anything else to show you,” the agent said, Detective Land stoic by his side.
I stared blankly at the evidence in front of me.
“Oh.” I thought of what I wanted to ask. “I hope you told the parents of those two college students what they were mixed up in. Clearly, they were misguided and under the influence of a terrible person. Maybe those parents can have some closure now.”
“We did, but don’t concern yourself with them. Take care of yourself. I’m sorry for this outcome.”
“That’s it, then.” I stood, not wanting his insincere compassion.
Mary stood with me, took my arm in hers, and helped me out.
Outside the station, I buried my face in her shoulder.
“I finally have my closure,” I mumbled, cried, and squeezed Mary closer and closer.
We were quite the spectacle.
Now I sat in my damn bedroom, Smitty on the bed, looking at me, pondering what was going on, his head cocked.
“You have to go out?”
He just plopped his head down on the bed. I guessed he felt much like I did.
We got our closure, but lost our happy ending.
I tucked the jewelry inside my sock drawer and crawled back into bed. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Mary had told me to take the rest of the week off, and for once, I didn’t argue.
Smitty barked, startling me out of a deep sleep. I turned to the clock and checked the time. Five o’clock. Shit, my dog probably had to fucking pee. I tossed my legs out of bed and scrambled downstairs in my elf pajama pants and St. Patrick’s Day T-shirt. I was no doubt a sight to behold, and I was pretty sure I heard a trespasser in my kitchen.
