3 - Story of My Life

Robin and Ms Hartman watched as the man in his black uniform entered the room. He walked straight up to Robin, carrying his head up with an air of confidence.

Robin raised an eyebrow while he walked further into the room. She fidgeted as he neared her.

"I'm Sergeant Murphy with the Gloucester County Homicide Unit." He flashed his badge. Before speaking again, he coughed, clearing his throat. "I need to get the victim's statement." The adults both stared at Robin.

She didn't like the attention, it made her uncomfortable. Nervously, Robin bit her lower lip, playing with it with as her fingers traced her nails.

Registering Robin's discomfort, Ms Hartman took the liberty of introducing herself. "I'm Ms Hartman, her social worker." They exchanged brief handshakes.

"Okay, I just need her statement and then I'll be on my way."

Robin watched the hushed exchange with careful eyes.

"Right." Ms Hartman moved back to Robin. "If you need a break or anything, just let Sergeant Murphy know, okay? I'll be here making sure that you're okay." She sat down in the chair, folding her legs over one another.

"I assume you know why I'm here," he said.

"You're here about my parents." Robin rushed her sentence. No need to make this inevitable conversation more awkward or longer than it needed to be.

"I am, and I'm sorry to report that they're... they're no longer alive." There was a long pause as he looked at her.

Robin kept her eyes on her lap, unappreciative of the pitying expression he gave. "I know," she whispered at last. Her chest squeezed.

He took a breath and exhaled. "I'm sorry to ask this, but do you know of anyone that would have wanted to do your parents harm? Did they ever mention having enemies or being threatened?" Sgt Murphy asked.

"Yeah, they made a few enemies."

"Do you know of their enemies' names?"

"No."

"What did they do for a living?"

"My father and mother worked as business owners of their company," Robin explained.

"What did they sell?"

Robin noticed a slight change in his voice, his impatience, but she shrugged it off. "Handbags, backpacks, totes, things like that."

"Do you know who they sold this stuff to?"

"Guys would usually show up when they wanted, and my parents would do business in their office. Then they'd leave."

"Were you ever there when they did their exchanges?"

She shook her head. "Not much. Mostly I was in my room or doing something else."

"When you were there, do you know why these guys came around?"

"Just clients buying stuff for their wives, I guess," she said, shrugging.

"So they showed up randomly, no appointments?"

"Not from what I know."

"Did you ever catch any of these men's' faces?" he asked.

"I wasn't paying attention."

"Was there anyone who ever came frequently?"

"No one in particular."

"How long did their business exchange last?"

"I'm not sure. I wasn't timing the whole thing." Robin was growing impatient of his questioning.

"Give me an estimate, five-ten minutes?"

"I guess so. I-I don't  know!"

"Did these men ever talk to you?"

Robin's heart pounded. "Not really. I mean, some said hi or whatever."

"And you can't identify anyone? You never saw their faces?"

"I don't remember."

"If I showed you photos could you pick them out?"

"No, I don't know!"

"Well-"

"Sergeant Murphy, why don't you let Robin have a breath?" Ms Hartman interjected.

"Okay."

Robin looked at the sergeant. When she was ready, she nodded.

"Did your parents have any issues with alcohol or drug use?"

"They enjoyed their drinks from time to time," she lied.

"Did they take any sort of medication?"

"Seems like everyone's taking something these days. Yes, they took medications."

"What kind?"

"My mother had a bad fall in December, so she took Vicodin."

"Was she addicted to it?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, did you ever see her take more than she should?" he asked.

"I-I don't know!"

"What about your dad?"

"He didn't take anything except a depression pill." Robin's eyes casted to the ground.

"Did he ever take more than he was supposed to?"

"I-I don't know. He took them when he wanted to."

Sgt Murphy nodded and continued. "Did he smoke?"

She frowned. "Yeah."

"How much?"

"Practically every day. He'd go through a pack or two."

"Did he drink a lot?"

"No, I said that already." Robin's jaw tightened.

"Right, you'll have to excuse this old brain of mine. It ain't what it used to be."

"Were your parents involved in the drug trade?"

"If I said no would you believe me?"

 With a little smile, he shook his head. "Unlikely."

"You already know don't you?"

Sgt Murphy shrugged.

Robin narrowed her eyes, suppressing the urge to slap off the stupid smirk sitting on his mug.

"Yeah, I do," he said.

Ms Hartman leaned in, listening to the exchange. Her hands rested on top of one another.

Noticing Ms Harman's change of posture, Robin shifted her gaze back to her wiggling toes.

"Then why are you here if you already know?"

"Because I still need to find their killer or killers."

"Wouldn't this be the FBI's case seeing as it probably involves the cartel?"

He took a large breath. "This is the difference between the FBI and my unit. The FBI doesn't give a damn who killed your parents, they have bigger fish to fry. Me, my team, we care. We get justice for the victims no matter who they are and what they've done to get themselves in the ground."

She raised her eyebrow, satisfied that she had gotten him to raise his voice. It felt good to get under his skin and turn the tables so he was answering questions. It made him more human to see that he could be lured to showing emotions. A small smirk danced on her pale lips.

"Do I need a lawyer?" Robin asked.

"Not unless you want one. I don't think you need one, you're our main witness." His eyebrow arched questioning as if she was guilty of something, but his question went unanswered.

She didn't let her face falter. Witness. That's right. She was a witness because she saw him. They could - no they would - come after her. Robin swallowed and gritted her teeth. She shrank back. Averting her head from the prying eyes, she stared at the IV pump. Something just didn't sit well with her. Right now, her parents' death was the last thing she wanted on her mind.

But, damn him, that sergeant was a nosy guy, far more curious than the beat cops who checked on her parents' activities from time to time. Clueless. Her eyes rolled. She could almost taste his ambition overriding his demeanour. She was aware of those types, and she never appreciated their gung-ho/can-do attitude when leads went dry. Those dog with a bone types, they never gave up. As sure as the sun rose and set every day, he was one of those types: good-boy cop who always argued he needed to find justice to assuage his guilty conscience. He wanted answers, and if she wasn't going to be forthright with him, he would dig until he got what he wanted. He would tunnel through every knothole in her life even if she didn't want him to. That was their nature, his nature.

Giving up, Robin shook her head. "I'll tell you what I saw if you keep me posted on my parents' case." She decided to let him get somewhere with her close-to-the-vest details.

"Definitely. Are you sure you're ready?"

"It'll never be clearer." Robin mentally prepared herself to return to the scene.

Sgt Murphy sighed and took out his tape recorder from his back pocket. "Okay." Placing the rectangle shaped block on the bedside table, he fidgeted with the buttons.

"When do you want me to start?"

"Whenever you're ready."

Robin breathed, closing her eyes. "We were waiting for the light to change."

The cars zoomed in front of the stationary vehicle she sat in. A flash of white, shiny blue, dark red, and then a bright red rushed past her window. She loved the colour red. It made her think of hearts and roses, the lovely things in the world were red. Her heart fluttered as she promised herself that she would own that bright shiny beauty one-day.

Robin's fingers trailed the grooves of the seatbelt keeping her chest and lap restrained in the cushioned seat. Not too hard, not too soft, just right, as baby bear would say.

"I was looking out the window at a bird."

"Squawk, squawk!" the seagull honked. He landed on the small grass patch to the right of her window. It poked and prodded the scrap. The bird hopped and skated around the lump expecting it to shoo him away. He ruffled his wings and picked his down feathers with its peak. After a shake, the gull scooped the lump. It slipped out of its beak several times. "Squawk!" he cried when other seagulls began hovering above his meal on the telephone wire. "It's mine!" the gull warned. He swallowed the trash whole.

She giggled as she watched the whole scene play. Those reminded her of the happiest days of her life before her parents changed. The smile flickered as she held in a cry.

"Then, I don't know, something just felt...off."

A random chill shot through her veins. Her mind returned to the present as she hugged her jacket tighter around her chest and arms. However, the cotton wouldn't protect her from the coolness. Still observing the bird, suddenly, it took flight. Landing on the wire adjacent from the hanging street light, it waited for his friends to join.

"The light turned green, and my mother pressed the gas."

Then, chill left her alone. The car on her right kept swerving toward them.

"I saw a car, it was going near the edge of his lane until he swerved back into the lane again."

"What is wrong with that car?" Robin asked herself. She looked to her parents, but they weren't paying attention to the car beside them. "Mom?"

"I told you not to call me that! Don't you freakin' listen?" the premature grey-haired woman snapped. 

Straight away, Robin shrank back in fear. "I'm sorry." Her face flushed in embarrassment. The woman was right, she did request - no, flat-out told her to not refer her as 'mom.'

"Whatever. Now, what the hell do you want? Can't you see I'm driving?" she said.

Feeling guilty, Robin wanted to leave her question unanswered, but that would only anger the woman more. "There's a car next to us, and-"

"Are you fucking blind? There are cars all around us! Christ, Girl, you don't need to state the obvious!"

She ought to be used to her mother's short temper. Why couldn't she get the hint and stop letting the words affect her?

"But-"

"Don't talk back to your mother, do you hear me?" Her father said with equal annoyance.

"Ok, I'm sorry." Robin sat in silence watching the car almost bump hers. She whimpered when she saw his fender tap the side of the other door.

"It was black, a four-door maybe, I couldn't tell."

The car was not at the least new. It belonged in the junkyard with dogs gnawing at its rubber wheels.

"Did you see the driver?" Sgt Murphy asked.

Diverting her eyes from the clouded headlights, her eyes followed the hood until she met the face of the driver.

"He was white, thirties maybe early forties?"

There was a scowl on the man's face. His jaw was hard and serious. He looked like the type of guy fit for a bouncer at a high-end club for wealthy people.

"What did his eyes look like? Did he have any distinguishing marks on his face?"

Despite the wide sunglass fixed on his face, the coloured ink pattern climbed the wall of his face. He looked aggressive.

"I don't know, I couldn't see his eyes. He had sunglasses. The man also had, um, a tattoo that was on his left temple. It ran to his cheek." She pointed to her cheekbone and ran her index finger along her face until she reached her hairline.

Although Robin liked tattoos, she did not like ones on peoples' faces. How they could tolerate the stinging pain of a needle on their face she couldn't comprehend. Shivering, she closed her jacket again.

"What did the tattoo look like?"

The tight snarl at his lips made her neck snapped back, recoiling as she averted her eyes to her hands. After his snarl, she didn't dare raise her eyes and meet his unpleasant face.

"Uh, I'm not sure, I didn't get a good enough look, but it was coloured."

 She wasn't eager anyway to stare at the man.

"Then what happened?"

BAM! HOOONNKK! Frightened vehicles blared their horns all at once, sounding like an unpracticed orchestra band.

Robin's instinct snatched control of her brain. She screamed and covered her ears.

"He hit the car."

Her eyes widened in horror as the front bumper of the black sedan rammed into her father's side. Screech! The wheels of their car spun on their axles like they didn't know which way to turn except the direction the old car shoved. Robin's heart thumped in her chest.

"I remember the car flipping."

Crunch! The car plopped onto its side as if it were a tired elephant just wanting to relax in a nice mud bath. Robin's head smashed into the white airbag, and her head throbbed. But the car wouldn't stop rolling. She swore to herself she'd never go on another spinning ride in her life after slamming her temple up to the windows. As they flipped, Robin slapped her hand over her mouth. The motion was shaking her stomach. She shrieked as the right side careened on its side. The incessant wails of the panic alarm sounded.

A/N: I know there is an established character named Sgt or Lt Murphy on SVU, sorry, but SVU's characters will not be intertwined in my story.

Also, I dedicated this chapter is The-Before for her amazing writing in One Thousand Miles. You should all take a read of her sequel too if you want!