Page 47 of Reaching Hearts

Chapter Twenty-Six

Annie

Pants: black. Blouse and Flats: cream-colored. Nose: itchy from dusty books and floor cleaner. Police Stations really look like this?

Every desk in the room is covered in papers and there is a police officer seated at all, save three. As I look around the room, glad that last night I got a good night’s sleep in my own bed so I could handle this, it occurs to me that working in this dreary florescent-lit place must be a hard way to spend a life, working at gray desks and old PC computers, on cases where people do horrible things to other people. Yikes.

“He’s right over there.” The young, severe-looking female deputy holds her arm out, her hand pointing at Sergeant Lewis’s desk.

He looks up and does a double take, setting papers on his desk to stand as I approach. “Ms. O’Brien. You look rested.”

I smile and sit in the chair he motions me to. “I wasn’t sure how to dress.” I glance down. “I figured conservative was best. Why am I telling you this?”

He smiles. “You look fine. One second.” He looks to his right and calls out, “Mackey, get over here.”

I look over to see a deputy with blonde hair and blue eyes change course, turning to join us. I recognize him instantly as the cop I ran from, the one who was holding me away from Brendan. From the look in his eyes, he recognizes me, too.

“This is Deputy Mackey.”

“Oh. I remember you.” I am not sure if it’s appropriate to smile or not. They’re both so serious. This whole room is like that.

Deputy Mackey sits on the edge of the desk, and both stern pairs of eyes are on me. “So, tell me what happened.”

I repeat what I told Sergeant Lewis the other day and Mackey nods as he soaks in my story, while Lewis sits back in his chair. Finally, I sigh, “And then I came here.”

They exchange a look. Mackey considers me for a couple seconds, then says, “Interesting. Well, we have the gun, and the rounds fired from it match what you’ve told me.”

“Three shots,” I say, seeing it all again in my mind.

“Yes. Besides your prints on the gun, there was only a smudge of a print that wasn’t yours, but not enough to go on. We got the blood sample. If we catch him, that will hold up in court. The serial number was shaved off, which is normal for a pro.”

“Have there been any other robberies in the neighborhood?” I ask, looking from one to the other.

Sergeant Lewis answers first. “Not like this.”

The deputy asks, “Is there anything else you’re leaving out? Something you don’t think is important or…”

I look at the desk, then to my lap, searching my memory for missing clues. “No. I’ve told you everything I remember.”

“Try one more time.”

“Okay.” I tally off the details on my fingers like I’m reading a list. “He had a very, very deep voice. He was yelling most of the time. A mask, so we couldn’t see him. Well built. About 5’9” or 10”. His eyes were brown or hazel; it was hard to tell. Dark green, maybe? They weren’t blue, not like yours.” I point to Mackey’s eyes and he shifts on the desk, uncomfortable at having been singled out. Looking at the water damaged ceiling, I search for more, but nothing comes forth. “I think that’s it.”

“Okay.” The two men exchange a look. They’ve got what they can and that’s all they can do.

“I’m sorry. I wish there was more. Oh, did you find Brendan’s wallet, or did the gunman take it? I can’t remember.”

They look at each other, questioning. The sergeant answers for both of them, “We didn’t find a wallet. He must have gotten away with that.”

Deputy Mackey stands and adjusts his belt. “That’s fine. You did well getting that gun away from him. And you’re both alive.” My eyes fall first to the gun resting in its holster, and then to the wedding ring on his hand.

I look up, excited by a memory. “He was wearing a ring! I almost forgot! It had a bull’s skull on it. It was silver.”

The sergeant makes a note on the paperwork. “Great. This is good.”

Feeling hopeful, I say, almost to myself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. When the robbery was happening, I focused on it and it felt like it was huge on his hand. Like, it really stood out, but then…” I wave a hand over my head, illustrating the way our memories disappear.

Sergeant Lewis says, as he stands up, “Shock does that. More things might come up as the shock wears off. Please call us if they do.”

“Of course.” I rise, too, and shake both their hands. “Thank you. And thank you for coming so quickly that night. I look around here and I just can’t imagine what you must have to deal with all day. I really want to thank you.”

Their faces change under the show of appreciation; they don’t know what to do with it at first. “You’re welcome,” Deputy Mackey says. The sergeant lets him have the last word, and just nods.

When I get inside my car, I lock the door and sit in silence. My hands are on the wheel at two and ten. The music is off. I have no idea where to go now. So much has happened. Should I go home and get some sleep? Probably.

Careful to look in both directions (I am surrounded by people who could give me a ticket) I pull out and head for the exit, wondering which direction to go. Home is to the left.

So I turn right.

The only place I want to be, is in Room 323.