It isn't the first time that I'm at work on a Saturday. It is, however, the first time I'm there with absolutely no relation to my actual job.

I don't know what Detective Trevor said or did to grant me access to a murder scene, but I find myself in the doorway of Anika's office, staring as a bunch of forensics specialists are milling around the body.

"Do you recognize this person?" one of the men on the scene asks.

I don't. She doesn't look like Anika anymore. Come to think about it, she doesn't look like much of a person at all. A few of my work friends and I used to joke that Anika was actually a snake wearing human skin. That seems plausible right now.

Her head and face have been bashed in so hard, there's little left intact, and the shape now resembles that of a snake's head. There is blood, bone and brain matter all over her pristine grey carpeting. Next to what's left of her skull, that godawful crystal duck paper weight is chipped and covered in blood.

I always assumed that tacky thing was heavy. I guess I was right. Heavy enough to crack a skull, to bash a face in, to leave anyone completely unrecognizable. It goes to show you that we never know how many potential weapons we handle throughout the day. If I look carefully, I can spot tiny crystal shards among the bloody pulp that used to be Anika's face. They catch the light of the morning sun and shine.

"Mrs. Romney?"

I turn from the body to the man questioning me. "Yes?'

"The victim. Do you recognize her?"

I glance at the body again. Anika was inspired to wear red that day. Her dress merely looks wet, not stained.

"I recognize her dress," I say. "This is what my boss, Anika Bower, was wearing yesterday." I'm very careful with my words. I won't assume anything.

"We understand that the two of you had a fight yesterday."

It's not a question. I know where this is leading. This is how suspects are usually identified. I'm obviously in trouble, but I can't seem to be bothered by it. This is surreal. From the way on of her high heels has somehow fallen off and landed next to the floor-to-ceilling walls, to the cup of mango slices on her des, a plastic fork still piercing one of the fruit. Maybe I'm in shock. There's no other explanation as to why I'm so unaffected by all this.

Sure, I never liked Anika. If I look deep down inside, I'm not sorry that she's dead. I'm not even shocked or sorry about how she died. But it's still a crime scene, still a dead body, still seeing actual brains spread on the carpet.

"Mrs. Romney?"

These people expect answers, so I nod. "If you could call her yelling at me a fight. The only difference is that, this time, I grabbed my purse and left."

The man notes this down. "Did you quit?"

"No."

"Did she fire you?"

I huff. "She doesn't have the power to fire me."

"So you just walked out after she yelled at you?"

"Yes. And I just told that if she doesn't like my work ethic, she can try to get me fired." I shrug. "I knew she wouldn't, we're understaffed."

"I see..." The man sounds even more suspicious so I glance around for Detective Trevor. 

Instead of analyzing the body, he's glancing at the ceiling, checking the corners. I know what he's looking for, but it feels absurd to find that here. Anika was hateful enough not to need murderous shadows to get her. Plus, this time, there's an actual murder weapon.

"Just so you know, Anika and I used to fight a lot," I say. "And not in an escalating manner. She's been a bitch to me ever since she came into this firm."

"So you were the senior employee?"

"Older employee. She was my supervisor."

"How come?"

I know why they care, but this conversation is exhausting. I don't care to recount all this because I know I didn't do it. They can't find anything if I'm not guilty. And seeing Steve's reaction that morning, I think he might just back me up this time. The coroner placed the time of death between nine p.m. and midnight. I was asleep in my bed then.

"I don't want to get into office gossip."

The man gives me a blank stare. "Mrs. Romney, this is the one time you should get into office gossip."

I want to roll my eyes. I never like office gossip even if the associates lived and breathed by it. I actually liked my job and did it for the clients, despite the toxic work environment. "Let's just say she knelt under the right desks."

"I see..."

I am definitely not fond of this man and no longer want to talk to him. Fortunately, Detective Trevor seems to sense that because he walks towards us. It's so strange to see him in jeans and a t-shirt as well. This way, his holster is visible, as is how flat his stomach is and the size of his biceps.

"Did Mrs. Romney identify the body?" he asks the moment he reaches us.

"She said it's wearing what her former boss did yesterday."

"There's one thing I don't understand. How am I the last person to see Anika alive? I left at three p.m. and she died at nine. I doubt she didn't even go to the bathroom during that time, and she'd have to walk across the open space to get there."

The man shrugs. "The other employees claim she locked herself in her office for a string of meetings and didn't come out until they left."

This is unbelievable. "And they all left at six?"

"They claimed they did."

"That's obviously a lie. We all work overtime. Every damn day."

"I think we should go," Detective Trevor says. "You're obviously distraught."

I open my mouth to point out that I'm really not, but catch myself. Instead, I nod. Maybe I am in shock. I should care at least a little.

Detective Trevor puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me out. I shiver at his touch, but don't pull away. After all, it is comforting.

We are silent on the ride down in the elevator, and then as he leads me to a café across the street. I wait at the table as he purchases coffee and croissants and then sits across the table from me. I immediately sip my coffee. The café is not great, but this morning, maybe I really need caffeine, because it tastes better. 

"This doesn't look good," Detective Trevor says.

"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't hate Anika enough to kill her. We'd all be psychopaths if we gave in to our impulses." I bite into the croissant and hum with pleasure. Their stuff is unexpectedly good today. Maybe it's a weekend thing and without the throng of customers, they actually have time to do this right.

"Eva, it's not as easy as what I think. You know this."

I wonder if it's more to his words than just the police procedural manual. "Detective, look..."

"You can call me Daniel."

His request catches me off guard, but as I glance into his blue eyes, I like it. "Isn't that a little informal?"

He shrugs. "I call you Eva and you don't seem to mind."

He didn't even ask for my permission to do that, but he's right. I don't mind. I like to feel like I have someone on my side through all of this. My heart tightens with guilt. It should be Steve, but he's clueless and still a bit suspicious after what happened with the car yesterday morning. He wasn't even bothered enough not to play videogames last night.

"Okay then. Look, Daniel..." I pause for a moment, enjoying the sound of his name rolling off my lips. It's a common name, but somehow, for him, it seems like more. "The thing is, I know it won't be easy. I didn't like her, I had a fight with her, and she turned up dead. But why should I be nervous if I didn't do anything. I was sleeping when the murder happened. Steve can confirm."

Daniel winces. "Yeah... About that..."

My jaw drops. "No! Please tell me Steve didn't claim that I left the house!"

"He didn't," he says quickly. "But that doesn't change the fact that Mr. Romney was up well past midnight playing videogames."

"Exactly! He would have seen me!"

"With his headphones on."

Oh. So that's the issue. I know Steve is unable to focus on more than one thing at a time and I could shoot a cannon next to him while he's entranced in one of his games and he wouldn't notice, but other people don't know that. Other people, especially police, should think that he would be aware enough to notice movement around him.

To notice his distraught wife during one of the most confusing and frightening days of her life.

I grit my teeth and glance out the window. It's hard to believe demonic shadows could exist on such a beautiful day, and yet one falls over me. I know Steve and I have our issues, but I believe... At least believed, that we still had a marriage. I wasn't upset yesterday, I wanted to be alone. But now, with Daniel glancing at me with concern that proves this isn't normal, I'm left to wonder if my husband even cares about me. I won't even wonder about love. Just basic human decency and an ounce of care.

I lean my forehead in my palm, fighting the panic and sadness overwhelming me. Why didn't Steve try to comfort me? Why didn't we discuss what happened yesterday and try to figure it out together?

He was playing videogames as if nothing had happened. I sometimes think he needs to be strangled with that damn controler chord. Maybe that way he'd see what those damn games are doing to him.

"I'm so sorry, Eva," Daniel says, as if he can tell I'm worried about more than just my alibi.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of all the doubts as well. What I'm going through right now is a lot more troublesome than my marriage. I know I'm innocent, but it could very well be that the only reason I'm not currently in jail is Daniel's trust in me.

"Why do you believe me?" I find myself asking.

"Because we both know it's a lot more complicated than that. Plus, at this time, there is no proof to indicate that you did anything wrong. You're just... In the middle of things."

He's right, but I also know police don't believe in coincidences. It can't be all happening to me for no reason. The lightning, the blood on the car, the shadows following me around, and now Anika.

"Do you think the shadows did it?" I'm so embarrassed by how ridiculous the question is that it's barely louder than a whisper.

"I..." Daniel runs his hand through his hair. "I truly don't believe shadows can kill people."

But then again, I've seen them enter me. Enter him. What if they can do that instead? Force people to do things? What if they entered Anika's body and made her crush her own skull with the crystal duck? The way the shards of crystal shone in her mangled remains still haunts me. Beauty and gore in the same place, a symbiosis of light and death.

"I don't think you should worry yourself to much with it. Since you were home, there will be no reason for any further scrutiny. You already gave your statement."

"Do you think they'll let it go that easily?"

 Daniel hesitates again. "I'll be honest with you. It depends on what they find on the crime scene. On whose fingerprints are on that duck." He glances at my hands.

I curl my fingers and lower them into my lap. We both know I don't have any fingerprints at the moment, that they were somehow burned off. The police most likely know that, too, so it doesn't really get me off the hook.

"I don't know what to do with myself," I finally say.

"You should go home and rest."

Home. To Steve. Would we even talk this time? The thought of being alone with him makes me shudder. I'm not sure why. He hasn't been the least bit threatening all throughout this mess. If anything, he's the one who seems afraid of me. I don't know why. And he's neglecting me.

"Or you could go somewhere else you can feel safe. Your mother's house."

"Ugh, no!" The last thing I need is my mother in on this. She'd panic, find a way to make it about her, and then find a way to claim this is all due to me and Steve not wanting children.

"A friend's place, then?"

I don't have any friends who would take me in unannounced. Our social circle is now filled with married people and new parents and I couldn't burst into their lives because I'm suddenly surrounded by blood and murder.

"What about you?" I ask.

I mean it as a separate discussion, but the shift in his eyes shows that he thinks I'm inviting myself over. Which is severely inappropriate. I know that, and yet I don't open my mouth to correct his assumption, not yet. Come to think about it, I don't even know if he has a family, if he's married, or engaged.

"There's just been a murder, Eva," he says. "I have a lot of work to do."

Oh, right. He's leading the investigation. Of course.

I nod and glance into my coffee cup.

"Maybe it's better that you go home to your husband," he says. "Talk things out with him. This..." He doesn't continue and I'm not sure where he wanted to go with that last affirmation. 

But I get the message. He has no time for me. I'll have to learn how to live with this on my own.

👥

Chapter WC: 2,302

Total WC: 15,012

And the story goes on with another murder. I think you're all so sorry to see poor Anika go. The Crystal Duck makes another appearance.

So does the Mango *takes a bow*.

But what will Eva do now? Is the detective (now Daniel *wink wink*) right and she's off the hook or maybe the others are still suspicious of her. And what about Steve? And who really killed Anika? Also that blood... Where did that come from?

Stick around and find out as I sail through this story!