NIP 10

“Good morning Robert and Tonya. I am standing in the Lincoln Park Zoo where a gruesome murder is being investigated. Ainslie Clarke, my beloved younger sister, was murdered here some time last night or this morning in cold blood. This crime is truly horrendous and revolting. We are first on the scene and little is known of how my sister was murdered, who did this to her or why. Please listen to me closely. I am begging every of one you tuning in to please report any suspicious activities you may have witnessed yesterday or leading up to the murder of my sister, Ainslie. Call 911. No, better yet call me directly at 773-870-68…….”

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“Stop, stop. Stop Sari. They pulled the plug. We’re off the god damn air!” Sam heatedly jerks his camera off of his shoulder. “Shit.”

“What? Why?” I demand. This can’t be good.

“Why do you think Sari?” Brad crossly poses, appearing out of no where. He is staring at me with his arms folded over his chest….obviously annoyed. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“Shut up Brad! Do not yell at me. I am doing the only thing I know…” I immediately jump on the defensive.

“Your phone number.” Brad stares at me blankly. I say nothing. He rubs his forehead. “Stay off the air. Sam go home. Now.”

“No thanks Detective. I don’t take my orders from you.” Sasses Sam. Sam gathers his equipment and steps aside but has no intention of vacating the crime scene.

“I will deal with you later.” Brad dismisses Sam. “Sari, come with me.” I inelegantly follow. Brad leads me around the Command Center bus to a clandestine spot. We are the only 2 people in eyeshot.

“Okay, I know this is extremely painful Sari. I am so sorry for your loss. But please you are not a reporter on this case…you are the victim’s sister. Hughes will lock you up if you impede in any way with this investigation. Okay?” Brad’s eyes beg me to accede. “This photograph was found on Ainslie. Does it mean anything to you?”

Brad hands me a photograph of me, Ainslie and Lizi. I do not recognize the picture. It must have been taken over 20 years ago. Maybe 23 years ago. I look to be about 6. Uncontrollable shivers rattle through me. A big, black ‘X’ covers Ainslie’s face.

“I have never seen this picture before.” My eyelids are heavy as I command utter focus on the tattered photograph of me and my sisters. I want to close my eyes, lose myself to sleep and hope to awake in my childhood bed to the smell of pancakes and syrup and the sound of Ainslie and Lizi arguing over who gets to use the bathroom first. Ainslie always won that battle. She could argue her way out of and into anything…except this time.

“So it means nothing to you?” Brad questions with the tone and body language he has been trained to use.

“No. I think this is….” My phone singing ‘one-eyed, one horn, flying, purple people eater’ alerts me Aunt Clara is calling or texting.

TO: Sari
FROM: AC
MESSAGE: I hope you can forgive me. I did this to you. I deserve what I get.

“Ohmigod!” I shriek. I frantically shake my phone as if it is an etch a sketch and I can change the message. What is this? What is she talking about? My mind races, I cannot decipher one thought from the other. My body reacts on autopilot. I run. I run so fast. I must get to Aunt Clara now. Car. I need a car. I spot a car with the engine running. I jump in and….

“OUT!” Brad shouts as he hurriedly pulls open the car door. He is out of breath from chasing me. How far did I run? I have to get out of here. Damnit Brad!

“No! No! No!” I irately pound the palm of my hands on the steering wheel. I crave the pain. “What is your fucking problem today!”

“Scoot over. It is illegal to drive a police car unless you are on the squad. I am. Move over.” Coolly orders Brad ignoring my violent rant.

I say nothing as I fold my long legs into me and climb over the middle compartment.

“Where to?” Brad winks and turns on the sirens.

“Aunt Clara’s. Deerfield.” I stare out the window. “As fast as you can.”

“Sure.” Brad mirrors my mood and we rapidly weave through traffic in silence. “What happened back there? What did your phone say?” The quiet lasted about 3 minutes total.

“This isn’t random is it?” My voice is monotone.

“What came through on your phone?” He blatantly ignores my question.

“Is this random?!?” I scream and dig my fingernails into the dashboard. I want to rip it off and whip it at someone…any one!

“I don’t think so.” He finally answers with a sigh. Brad never takes his eyes off the road or maybe he never takes his eyes off of his thoughts. “Now tell me why you freaked out. What did your…”

I pass my phone to him too nervous to open my mouth, to think, to read it again, or even look at it.

“Call her.” Is all Brad says after reading Aunt Clara’s message. I do as I am told. Numb and afraid.

“Aunt Clara. It’s me. Please call me back.” I leave the same message on her home phone and cell phone. My eyes sting as they fill with tears.

Brad kindly rubs my shoulder. His compassion is a necessary blanket. Mark! I need to get in touch with Mark.

“You okay?” asks Brad after witnessing me fidgeting in the passenger seat like I am having a seizure.

“I’m calling Mark.” I shush Brad. “Mark. It’s me. I need you. Please please please please call me. Do you know what is happening? Please call me. I love you.”

“No answer.” Brad comments.

“None.” I confirm. “I don’t get any of this. How can this be happening? God Ainslie is dead. Oh my god. And now this cryptic message from Aunt Clara. I just don’t get it. Why is this happening?” Tears roll down my cheeks. They remind me I am not numb. I catch them…I have to stay strong.

“We will sort it out Sari. I promise. This bastard will fry. You have my word.” Brad checks the patrol car Garmin. “What is the exact address?”

“3425 Crab Tree Lane.” I sniffle. What did you mean Aunt Clara? You raised me and cared for me my entire life. What could be your fault? I just don’t get it. I sniffle over and over again.

“Tissue.” Offers Brad. “Listen Sari, I’m sorry I was so gruff with you back there. The call you got just seemed fishy and you know how it is…some reporters pay off dispatch.”

“It’s fine.” I shelve it.

“Understand, I take my work seriously. I am protective of crime scenes…”

“Understood.” I force a smile. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything.

We pull up in front of Aunt Clara’s house, my childhood home. I bolt out of the car before it stops moving. I tear through the front lawn. My blonde curls sense Brad running an inch behind me.

“Brad.” I utter in shock. The front door is ajar. I do not move. I do not go inside. I simply stare at it. “Oh no.”

“Me first. You follow.” Brad draws his gun. I follow closely behind as if I am on the back of his motorcycle. My knees are trembling. I want to race through the house screaming for Aunt Clara but I am too afraid. The house is still…as still as death.

We tiptoe past the living room. I see a tiny bit of light coming from the kitchen. I continue following Brad although my eyes are leading the way. I gape over his shoulder, I cannot cover my face. I must be brave.

There is a shadow. The shadow is standing…is alive! Aunt Clara? Oh my god. I stop frozen in my tracks. I am making eye contact with Mark. He is as white as ghost heading out of the kitchen door.

“Mark?”