Elijah

Friday, July 26th, 1:23pm.

I hesitate to turn the key, my fingers shaking as they hover over it, not wanting to touch it.

No one's going to notice you, all of the focus is going to be on Derrick.

I get out of my car and slam the door behind me for good measure. I clench my hands into fists as they start to tremble.

I don't want to go to the funeral but I know I have to.

If anything, you'll know for sure that Derrick is dead.

I feel sick at the thought but I know it's the truth.

If I don't go, I know that I'll also look guilty for it.

I take several, deep breaths of air before I duck back into my car and start it. I grip the steering wheel tight enough my hands ache as I start the long drive over to the Coleman funeral home. I pass a news van on the way into the lot and I wonder then if they're really going to bother the people who came here to grieve Derrick's death.

I get my answer when I pull into a space and open my door to get out.

"Melissa Kennedy from Channel 5 news, I was wondering if you could answer some questions for us?"

A microphone has been shoved in my face, my lips almost touching it as I sit back in my seat.

"Uh-?"

"Are you Elijah Zhang?" she inquires before I can say anything in response.

"I don't think I want to talk to you," I mutter.

She tilts her head at this, her light eyes narrowing.

"Why's that? We just want you to answer a couple questions regarding your friend's murder?"

I groan internally as I force myself to smile.

"Okay then, what do you want to ask?"

"Where were you the night Derrick disappeared?" she asks, though it comes out more like a demand.

Even Detective Caine wasn't this pushy.

"I had been at the dunes," I grind out.

"Was there any suspicious activity while you were up there?"

"Like what?" I deadpan.

Seriously, does she expect me to say that I saw the killer with my own two eyes?

"Is it true that you were drinking that night?" she asks and I'm thrown by the topic change.

I stare at her, wondering how she had gotten the information as heat rises to my face.

"I uh...that's not-, that's none of your business," I sputter.

"Let me re-phrase the question, you were drinking that night according to some of my sources, is it possible you or some of the others were drunk?"

Is she trying to pin this on me?

"I think I'm done here," I find myself saying as I push past her and shut my car's door behind me.

"Elijah, we're just looking for answers," Melissa calls after me as I keep walking without looking back.

A police officer stands at the doors to the funeral home, his thumbs hooked through his belt-loops as he nods to me. I freeze in place, the breath stopping in my lungs as I stare at him.

"Go on in," he tells me, "I'm just here to keep the media away," he says as his eyes trail past me, likely watching Ms. Kennedy.

I breathe out and readjust the collar on my dress shirt, "Thank you, sir."

"Just do me a favor and use the back exit when you leave, they're going to be watching this door all day," he suggests as he tips his hat, "give the family my regards."

"Of course officer...."

"Baker," he says as he reaches back and opens the door for me.

"Thank you, Officer Baker," I murmur as I step through into the parlor.

Cold air immediately hits me, along with the smell of flowers as the door shuts behind me. I want to turn and run but instead I stay locked in place as I take in the sight in front of me.

Dozens of people are standing around the parlor, most all of them dressed in black or gray as I search the thick crowd for someone familiar. I spot his parents among them and I swallow back the lump in my throat.

I'm going to eventually have to talk to them.

I shudder at the thought.

I pick out Danica from the crowd then, her head turning in my direction as she spots me and gestures for me to come over. I start in her direction only to stop when Paxon steps up beside her with Olivia on his arm.

Shit.

I fake a smile as I scan the crowd again.

Come on, someone? Anyone?

Amy.

I take my chance as I head over to Amy, who is standing in the far corner of the parlor with Mila. They look up as I approach and the corner of Amy's lip quivers as she nods to me.

"Hey."

"Hi, Amy...uh, I'm really sorry for your loss, Officer Baker also gives you his sympathies," I stutter out.

"Thank you, Eli," she murmurs as her eyes flit past me.

I turn as Josh approaches us, Amy and Derrick's older brother smiling as he puts out a hand for me to shake as I oblige. His grip is tight enough that I almost feel uncomfortable as he shakes my hand.

"Eli, good to see you," Josh says.

"And you," I murmur, "how have you been?"

"Other than being shot at on a regular basis in a foreign country and learning that your brother's been murdered? I've been okay," he replies with a smile that unsettles me.

"I-..uhm," I freeze, the words locking up in my throat.

"Josh-," Amy interrupts.

"What?" Josh asks as he looks from me to Amy, "Ah, right, I'm sorry. Thank you for showing up, we appreciate you being here," he says to me as he smiles.

I can feel my palms beginning to sweat as Josh continues to hold my hand in a death-grip as I take note of the calluses on his hands. Multiple scars dot his knuckles and I wonder then how many people he's killed. And if I'm about to be the next one.

Is he going to break my hand?

I try to move my hand and Josh's eyes lock onto mine. The same green eyes as Derrick and Amy watch me closely as not a single emotion flickers in them.

At last, he lets go.

"Good to see you, Eli," Josh says as he flashes a smile to reveal his teeth.

"You too, Josh," I mutter as he turns away from us and disappears among the other black-clad people.

I reach down to rub at my hand, which is tingling from having the circulation restricted.

"He's suspicious of everyone," Amy explains in a low voice.

I look up to see that her face is drawn and pale, her eyes hollow as she watches me.

"He thinks anyone could be the murderer," she elaborates, "I don't know if he's going to stop until they find his killer."

"I don't blame him," Mila interrupts as her gaze darts between Amy and I.

I let her comment slide, deciding that it's best not to pick any fights.

"I just want to get this day over with," I murmur.