"Detec..."
"You are understandably upset. In shock," he added, eyes giving me a firm look, making me feel like I was somehow missing my cue. "You just saw your housekeeper and father murdered," he added, voice pointed.
And I was finally getting it.
He wanted me to lie.
He wanted me to go with his story of the events.
"Can you hold your hands out for me, Helen?" he asked, pulling something out of his coat pocket. A plastic baggie and a sealed set of cotton swabs. He ripped the package open, rubbing a swab over my hands. "If anyone asks," he said, voice doing that thing again, "I swabbed your hands," he said, then took the swab, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Not the baggie. I watched, confused, as he took the other swab, leaning down, pulling down my sock to swab my ankle. Then putting that swab into the plastic bag, sealing it. "We will need your clothes as well," he said, shrugging. "To test for gunshot residue. Which we will find," he added. "Since you were within five feet at the time of the shooting. Correct?"
Well this part wasn't even a lie.
"Right," I agreed.
"But since it is not on your hands," he went on, waving the plastic bag, "that is clearly just from being close to becoming a victim yourself."
He was falsifying evidence for me.
For me, someone he had never met.
Why?
Just because his son was sweet on me?
"Why?" I whispered, head shaking.
Detective Collings took a deep breath, half-turning over his shoulder to check the door before exhaling.
"My son wanted me to take care of you while he was away," he admitted, voice low. "I don't think he would take kindly to me letting you get put away for murder. Besides, your brother isn't a good man, Helen. I figure you know that already."
"You have no idea."
"He's linked to three homicides this year alone. But there's never been enough evidence. He should be in a cage. You? You deserve a chance at freedom. So I am going to give that to you. Once you change, give me your clothes. Then you can be on your way. Do you have somewhere to go?"
Not technically.
But also, absolutely.
"Yes."
"Your bag downstairs," he went on. "You were going to use that to run away." It wasn't a question. "Unfortunately, we need to keep that for evidence," he moved to stand, but leaned forward toward my ear. "But I doubt anyone would know if a watch or two went missing."
He was giving me a way to get money to fund my freedom even though they had to take every cent I had saved.
"Grab some clothes, Helen. I will wait here."
With that, having no choice in the matter, and more indebted to this man than I could ever even realize, I grabbed clothes, went into the bathroom, changed, then handed the old ones over to him.
On the way down the hall, he stopped to 'tie his shoe' as I snuck inside my father's room, grabbing anything of worth, shoving it into a small purse I had grabbed.
"We just need to ask for your official statement at the precinct. Then you are free."
Two hours later, I was.
Free.
But no idea where to go, where Charlie was.
I got in my car, driving out of town with a numb body and even more unreachable mind.
I just drove.
Down the shoreline.
Pulling onto the main drag of a town called Navesink Bank, the buildings mostly empty, the place clearly hitting a lull in the economy.
Practically a ghost town.
Save for a gas station where I stopped to fill up, using the tips I had in my glovebox from the night before.
It was right that moment, the lowest one of my life, that I suddenly realized that fate wasn't just a concept, something that happened to the lucky few.
It happened to us all.
Because once I paid and turned my car back over, my headlights shined into a parking lot of a motel.
And there was Charlie's car.
I didn't even think.
Didn't even wait for my receipt.
I flew out of one lot and into another, barely remembering to cut the engine before barreling out of the door, tripping over the curb, and slamming my fists frantically on the door.
"Charlie! Charlie, please open up. Please," I added, voice cracking as the night finally caught up with me, finally penetrated through the walls I had put around myself.
I was hardly even aware of the crash, stumble, and shuffle. I didn't even hear it as the locks were slid, or the handle turned.
All I knew was the door opened.
And there he was.
Whatever strength was left in me vanished, washing out of my body like a wave, bringing me to my knees with the pressure.
My hands rose, covering my face as though doing so would stifle the loud, hysterical cry that rose from somewhere deep inside me.