I didn’t even have to knock on their door, her grandmother saw me from the window and immediately ran to the door. She opened it slightly, glaring at me suspiciously.
“May I help you?”
“Hello, I’m-”
“I recognize that voice! Did you seriously come all the way here?”
Her grandfather suddenly opens the door fully, pushing her wife back into the house. A tall, old man...skinny, with bloodshot eyes. His face is a whole frown that’s probably been stuck there for years.
“Sir, I need you to-”
“Understand this, detective. My wife told you on the phone already...do not involve us with that girl’s death. We have no idea what happened to her, and we don’t want to know.”
“But you know what happened to her mother, don’t you?”
He falls silent, his frown growing fiercer, “her mother was a slut. She was raped, and she kept the cursed child. We kicked her out of the house, and never heard from the two. Ever.”
I furrow my brows.
“Claire told me she lived with you when she was twelve, and both her parents died.”
“A lie, that’s a total lie…” he scoffed, “the father was never found, since he was a random rapist...and I haven’t spoken to my daughter OR my granddaughter in more than twenty years.”
“Why did she live nearby, then?”
He looks surprised, “did she? We didn’t know.”
I close my eyes and sigh, “alright. I’m done here.”
“Good. I don’t want to see you here again.”
I turn back and head to my car, brushing my chin.
Back to the office, I'm sipping on some whiskey as my brain cogs turn.
She chose a house near her grandparents to feel...close to them.
Claire’s past is different than what she told me.
What happened to her mother, really?
I’m trying to find a reason why she would be targeted by a serial killer. Maybe the sexual assaults of her mother and Claire’s before her death aren’t linked. Sex and lust are common amongst humans, after all.
The thing is...this isn’t the first lie Claire has piled up on her person, I’m sure of it. The way she waited so long before reporting, the way she acted during her last days. There’s something that Claire hid not only from me, no, she hid it from everyone.
So, whether her mother’s past is important or not, the killer could have chosen her with whatever she’s still hiding beneath her grave with her. If I find that thing...I-…
The phone rings. Who is it?
“Hello?”
Elima’s disappointed voice comes out of a phone booth. I can hear the cars.
“Uhm…”
I stay silent.
“Elima, I-”
“I just wanted to make sure of something! And I was right! Listen here, Claire didn’t report the Outer One ghost girl stalking her until a few days before her death...and she lied about several things. It means that the police is not going to figure out anything out of her, and I wanted to-”
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She shouts, her voice blaring through the receiver, making me flinch.
“What does this have to do with Anna, Elima? No...not at all. She’s not in my head right now.”
Honestly…? I don’t…
“I don’t know.”
A mutter comes out, shameful.
I truly don’t know.
“I just find this whole thing so creepy and mysterious that...I’m drawn to it. It’s interesting, it’s challenging...it’s different than the rest of the cases I tackle usually,” I confess.
“I’m sorry, I...”
I glance at the scattered papers again, at the contradictions, the gaps in the story...I look like a madman.
Why is this case eating at me so much? I don’t know myself. It’s weird. I shouldn’t give a shit.
“You’re right. This is enough...I’m losing control,” I tell her, “I’m coming home now, will you be there?”
She sighs, keeping quiet. She’s thinking...bad sign.
The idea of her disappearing from my daily life is...bad. I don’t like it. It should be enough for me to stop.
“Okay, okay. Tomorrow...I’ll give you all the clues and papers I have of Claire and we’ll burn them together, okay?”
Her tone becomes lighter,
I chuckle, “silly...you forgot about the hidden spare key?”
A month passed. My workflow is back, Elima’s smile is back...and I’m back working for the police.
The serial killer never striked again, or at least...that’s what the newspapers say. I stopped thinking about it, and I actually burned everything...just like Elima asked me.
It’s evening, we’re closing up for the day. Elima walks into my office as I fix my coat. She giggles and places her things down, leaning against the desk.
“What? What’s funny?”
She shakes her head, biting her lip, “it’s just that...I’m happy. You seem happier too.”
“Well...I guess,” I shrug.
“Let’s go home, come on,” she gestured outside my office.
I look at her and don’t move, crossing my arms.
“Hmm…” she squints her eyes, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” I sigh, looking down “it’s just that, Elima...you’ve been coming home with me a lot.”
Our...complicated side sex thing started happening more and more often...she rarely goes back home. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but it’s been a while now, and she seems to live at my apartment. She also brought some of her clothes.
“And?”
“It’s getting out of hand, don’t you think? What do your parents say?”
“They think I’m with a friend, an imaginary friend called Elaine,” she chuckles, stepping closer to me. She brings my arms down and leans against my chest, playing with my coat’s button.
“They’re going to find out, and they’ll charge me with statutory rape,” I look away, trying to move her to the side. She doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to me.
“I’m twenty-four!” She pouts, "twenty-five in a week!" She adds while hitting my shoulder lightly, “don’t say creepy stuff like that.”
“I know but…” I groan, “I’m a bit iffy...you know? It’s just that-”
“Oh, just shut up…”
Seemingly overtaken by frenzy, she unbuttons my coat rapidly, kissing my neck with hunger. I try to stop her, chuckling nervously as I am pushed against the desk.
“Elima, come on...”
“I’m gonna make you regret saying me staying over often is a bad thing…” she chuckles again, running her tongue across my ear, “we’re gonna do it here at the office, like a naughty couple.”
“No, wait…”
“The closed sign isn’t on the door...a customer might get in…” she whispers, “you should be quick and work with me, dear detective…”
“Elima, seriously...stop.”
I place my hands on her shoulders and push her away.
“Why?” She stops, looking at me with sadness.
“You don’t need to do this. I’m okay.”
“Why does it always have to be for you? What if I want this?”
“I…”
...don’t know how to respond to that. Why would she want to do this with a man almost in his middle age?
I exhale and finally speak, “you deserve better,” I caress her cheek gently.
“Better than what?”
“Better than this...” I chuckle, gesturing to myself, “really. I’m not the man you think I am.”
She shakes her head, smiling against my words, “I’ve been working for you for a while now. We had sex together an amount of times I can’t even say out loud. I think I know you.”
“That’s different, it’s not the same as living with me and being so...attached. It’s a dangerous thing, especially with me,” I retort, “you’re young, and you have so many places in your life that await just you. I-”
“I’m exactly where I want to be, Edward.”
“You're not..."
“Yes. You don’t get to decide where I should be,” she whispers, “and I can tell you like this too.”
“I like it for the wrong reasons. Now...get off me.”
She disobeys, doing the opposite.
She pushes herself forward, crossing a line we’ve never crossed.
She puts her lips on mine, kissing me for the first time in years.
It was our only rule. No kisses. We aren’t lovers, we are just two people with bodily needs.
But I don’t fight it.
I let her do as she pleases for as long as she pleases...and then, the kiss breaks, leaving the both of us filled with emotion.
“What the fuck was-”
“I love you.”
Her words ring inside of me, the last time I’ve heard them was before my wife died of cancer, five years ago.
I don’t know what to say, or to do. I just stare at her, my eyes sting. She chuckles at my reaction, pressing her warm palm against my face.
“Nobody has ever cared for me like you do, Edward. My parents are abusive...I think you started noticing that. Reason why I’m always with you. And...I don’t have anyone else. Just you.”
“Elima...I’m not-”
“You don’t have to do anything special. I just want to be with you, to support you.”
I swallow my words, nodding obediently.
“I’m half your age, I know. This is fucked up,” her lips tremble, “but you’re the only light I see…so...please…”
I close my eyes, trying to suppress my shaking body.
"I'm sorry Elima...I can't..."
She doesn't reply.
She shakes her head and leaves.
I stand there, like an idiot. I brush my lips with my finger.
Can I learn to love again? After losing who was most precious in my life?
Can I learn to protect again, after failing to protect what I cherished?
I don’t know.