Emily's day began with a semblance of normalcy she could comprehend; she woke up with half her bosom exposed, her disheveled short hair clinging to one side, a throbbing headache, and sore limbs—this time not from forced exercise, but lingering muscle pain. Her attempt to sleep through a day in hopes of alleviating the discomfort the police chase had caused had proven futile.

Emily's aunt still held a grudge against her, and the entire household tiptoed around, wary of setting off an explosive outburst from the woman. Jordan's high school had suspended classes for summer break, and being anywhere in the now crowded house felt like a ticking time bomb in Emily's head. Nevertheless, she had to face the day; otherwise, her aunt would return to unfinished chores and unleash her wrath.

She rose from her bed and took a cold shower, hoping the water's refreshing touch would invigorate her. Oxygen deprivation under the shower had become part of Emily's routine. She did it twice, counting the seconds it would take to someday take her out.

Afterward, she tidied her room, cleaned the kitchen, and picked up Jordan's mess in the living room. Jordan had already left with his dumb friends, indulging in whatever escapades teenage boys pursued during their summer break.

Emily perched on the armrest of a couch and watched the clock adorned with Jesus' image as it ticked away. The words beneath the innocent looking picture read, "I am the living bread." With her chores completed, the house offered nothing of interest. She longed for the company of Mickey and the free weed that accompanied it. Realizing her aunt had made no move to acquire her phone from the police, Emily resolved to retrieve it herself. She pulled on one of Jordan's oversized sweatshirts and stepped out the door.

As Emily locked the house, she waved at a neighbor walking his dog. Perhaps later, she could consider getting a dog herself.

***
 

Emily walked all the way to the station, listening to nature and trying to convince herself that she did not need tiny pieces of technology blasting music into her eardrums. It was however difficult, for Emily's thoughts could get really loud, especially in the silence.

She was glad upon her arrival to the station. Her mind could finally focus on one thing and stop the straying. She approached the service desk and was directed to a floor by a pleasant young lady.

The elevator doors in the police building opened to a bustling atmosphere. Uniformed officers behind desks and moving around the open office plan seemed oblivious to Emily's presence. Anxiety crept back into her, but she dismissed it quickly with a quick breathing exercise.

Passing a group of young men huddled in one corner, hurling insults at another group with visible marks and bruises from a prior fight, Emily headed toward the first desk on her left. She waited for a civilian-dressed man to finish his conversation with another officer behind the desk before stepping up. The man's coworker stood up, holding a blue file. Emily forced a smile and cleared her throat.
 

"Hi," Emily greeted, giving a small wave. "Could you please–"

"The service desk is on the ground floor," the man muttered, not even bothering to glance up from his computer. Frustration simmered within Emily, prompting her to make another attempt.

"I know that. I'm looking for Mr. Burns," she replied, trying to catch the man's attention. "Officer Burns?" He tapped a few more keys on his computer and took a gulp of the liquid inside his black thermo-flask.

"And you are?"

Emily glanced around, thinking the man must have been informed of her arrival at the front desk. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been sent up. She groaned inwardly.

"I'm Emily," she replied, exasperated. The man looked up once more, feigning recognition. Emily rolled her eyes. "He's expecting me. I just need to know where his office is."

The man relaxed and leaned back in his chair. Emily read the name on the black plaque seated on his disorganized desk: Detective Evans Chamberlain. "Are you an intern or something?" Evans asked, twirling his blue pen between his fingers. "I could use a refill, Emily." He pushed his flask toward her. "The coffee machine is right near his office; you can't miss it."

Emily stared back at his steady gaze, her hands reaching for the flask. She surveyed the room, spotting a kitchen area down a corridor flanked by glass-walled separate offices. Emily headed in that direction, reading the names on the doors. Officer Burns occupied the last office on the right, just before the kitchen area.

Emily found the coffee machine and began filling Officer Evans' flask. Halfway through, she realized he hadn't mentioned his coffee preferences. Emily unscrewed the flask's lid and took a sip of the lukewarm liquid. It was black with a hint of milk and plenty of sugar. Swirling the liquid inside her mouth, she gargled it down her throat and spat it back into the flask before continuing her task.

As she returned with the coffee, Emily couldn't resist peeking into Officer Burns' office. She recognized the lady detective from her questioning some time back and noticed a tall man as well. Emily read the first name on his door and frowned. Wilberforce? What kind of name was that?

Evans accepted his coffee with a tight smile and turned back to his work. Emily smiled to herself. She didn't need appreciation for the task; he could choke on her saliva for all she cared. Emily flipped her visitor tag hanging from her neck and walked through a couple of desks towards the corridor.

She lightly knocked on the clear door. Both occupants inside turned sharply at the disturbance, then refocused on Officer Wilberforce Burns. After a short while, the tall man exited the room, and Emily was invited inside.

"Emily!" Officer Burns greeted, his voice laced with feigned enthusiasm. He whispered to the lady detective, "Speak of the devil." Assuming their acquaintanceship required no formalities, Emily approached an empty seat beside his desk and sat down. "How's it going?" Officer Burns inquired, waving the detective away. The lady detective grabbed a pen from his desk and left the office.

"It's going," Emily shrugged. "I'm here for my phone." She desperately hoped Officer Burns had kept his word and someone responsible had already faced consequences for the poolside gathering.

"Ah, yes," Officer Burns said, taking a sip from his cup. It must have been tea break in the office. He rummaged through a drawer and retrieved a brown envelope, placing it on the table before closing the drawer.

Emily wordlessly grabbed the sealed envelope. At the bottom was a printed police address and a white tag where the word "forensics" was neatly written. Below it, her own name was inscribed. She tore open the envelope and retrieved her phone. Who would have thought her cracked Android would hold such significance? She checked her battery percentage and was surprised to find it fully charged.

"One of the officers recovered your phone from a few nights ago," Officer Burns began. "It was late, and only a few people remained at the station, so a secretary from a different department had to make the emergency contact call. You know how it goes." Officer Burns waved his hands as he spoke. Emily nodded in understanding; she had already deduced as much. "Anyway, the secretary happened to come across your aunt's name in a case her colleague's partner was working on," Emily frowned. "You listed your aunt as a guardian."

"Oh, yeah," Emily replied, uncertain with where Officer Burns' was building up to.

"Anyway, in the pursuit of answers and justice, the secretary decided to have your phone examined..." Emily froze, her uneasiness apparent. Officer Burns noticed and chuckled, dismissing her concerns. "It's just routine, nothing serious," he reassured her. He adjusted his tie. "Now, she believes she's stumbled upon a new lead in the trailer murder case." The skin on his face wrinkled as he smirked. "A whole new angle," Officer Burns expounded. "Talk about secretaries overstepping their bounds and doing work that isn't theirs." Emily joined Officer Burns in a chuckle, albeit strained and forced.

Undoubtedly, her phone contained a wealth of incriminating evidence, enough to land her behind bars for a substantial period. The record of continuous drug procurement, confessions within her online diary, and the foolish video from her high school days where one of her friends slaughtered a rabbit...

"Don't worry, we won't examine anything unrelated to the case," Officer Burns reassured her. Emily let out a sigh of relief at his assurance. "However, I'm afraid you've made it onto the suspect list for Mr. Terry Jones' murder."

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