Shadows in Wonderland // Chapter 1
Title: Shadows in Wonderland // Chapter 1
Series: Wonderland
Author:
karlamartinova
Genre: Drama, Crime, Fantasy
Rating: R
Warnings: violence, gore, sexual situations
Words: 5777
Disclaimer: All mine!
AN: Finally posting the first chapter of my fantasy novel, why now? Not sure, however, enjoy!
Summary: Detective Alice Benson isn't your typical police officer, but even she has trouble digesting a string of disturbing violent murders. Why are people suddenly murdering their loved ones? With the help from her living partner Simon Torres and the ghost of her twin brother Rob, Alice needs to discover why are these completely different people acting so very similar and why is feels so very familiar to a past she's trying to forget.
.
The house is dark when she finally reaches the door. It shouldn't be surprising, it's almost midnight and after the whole day spent with their daughter, John must have been exhausted. Jasmine is five and a little bit too full of energy, and Claire sometimes feels that her promotion came to save her from failing as a mother.
With that in mind she steps into their house and finds it absolutely wrecked. “Damn you, John,” she mutters under her breath when she sees toys, plates and clothes all in one heap on the floor between the couch and the TV. There's a blanket spread over two chair there too. A tent for Jasmine, and Claire is almost afraid to see what's under it.
She imagines pasta all over her expensive carpet and anger fills her up like an empty cup, her nostrils almost flare up and she stalks over to the kitchen to check the state of it. It's even worse, the sink is full of dishes and there're glasses and empty bottles of juice and Claire suddenly doesn't care about being a bad mother.
When it happens, she doesn't even notice. One moments she's just angry, the second , there's something else here, something much worse settling inside her. Her eyes change, but Claire doesn't see it because Claire is no longer there. Whoever is, pushes away all the dishes who fall to the floor with loud thud. Glasses break and the splinters fly through the whole room, and John runs to the kitchen with horrified expression on his face.
“What the fuck, Claire,” he screams but his voice dies out as he sees her face. His own changes, possible anger is replaced by fear as he starts to back out of the room. The person who looks entirely too much like his wife opens the kitchen drawer and draws out a knife.
“Claire,” John whispers hoping she's there somewhere behind those dark eyes.
She smiles. “Yes, darling, would you like to say something to her?” it asks and takes few more steps towards him. “Would you like to say to her how much you love her before her hands tore you apart?”
But John is frozen in fear, his feet unable to move and his back stuck to the wall. He wants to scream, he desperately wants to scream but Jasmine might wake up, and the last thing he wants to is to draw attention of this thing to their daughter. His last thought is on her too.
“Please, spare her,” he thinks as the knife finds his heart.
--
It's the phone that wakes her up, but it might have been Rob as well. He's quietly talking to Cassandra and Alice should find it weird. For one, he hates cats, he threw a real ghostly fit when she brought the black kitten home. Secondly, cats don't really, or maybe they do talk to ghosts. There're far too many things she isn't sure about.
“Your phone beeped,” Rob announces walking into her room, Cassandra hot on his heels. It's wrapping its tail around his calf and Alice wonders how's it even possible. The touch doesn't seem to cause any pain, it's purring loudly and absolutely ignores the person who feeds it. Alice feels betrayed, or an echo of betrayal since isn't sure how she's even supposed to feel.
“And since when you became such friends?” she asks pushing herself up. She sleeps naked and Rob flinches. Again. It's becoming tiring, she thinks, but she's surely isn't about to change her habits just to make her dead brother more comfortable around her flat. She hadn't invited him anyway.
Rob smiles affectionately at the cat. “Since she's the only one around here talking to me. But seriously, sis, you should call back, it's important,” he motions toward the phone and Alice is suddenly glad he hasn't mastered touching object just now. When he throws a fit, things are flying around, but when he's calm he cannot lift things no matter how he tries. He finds it frustrating, she mostly amusing.
Alice rolls her eyes. “Fuck me,” she answers as she stalks towards the bathroom. She hates when he's like this, paternal and annoying. Sometimes he reminds her of their father and when she had said so him so, he didn't talk to her for days. Having a brooding ghost around isn't fun though, not as much as she would like it to be.
She's brushing her teeth when he appears behind her. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asks, frustration visible on his face. He looks so human that touching him wouldn't seem so wrong to her. But he isn't and touching him causes pain.
Alice meets his eyes in the mirror. There's sadness in them, something else too, and she's again remained of how their life used to be, how happy they used to be. But then he had died and she had died and now they're living in their own personal hell. Some days Alice wants him gone, some days, she needs him more than anything. But she still likes to irritate the fuck out of him. Today is one of those days.
She leans over the sink and spits out the tooth paste. “Because you're being like him,” she says and reaches for the shirt hanging on the shower stall door. When her head comes out of it, Rob is gone.
He isn't in the bedroom either and after a careful inspection, she doesn't find him in the flat at all. Alice releases a deep breath. “Shit,” she mutters, finally reaching for her phone. The last missed call is from Torres and she dials him first. He picks up after first ring.
“Where the hell are you?” he says as a greeting and Alice rolls her eyes. Is today a “patronize the shit out of Alice” day?
“On my way,” she says taking her jacket from the chair and moving quickly towards the door. The urgency in his voice makes her move, not that she would admit that to him. “Where should I be?”
“The Pines, follow the line of police cars. It's bad, Benson, really bad. Prepare yourself,” he ends the call then and Alice is already out of the door, Cassandra meowing loudly.
--
It's too easy to find the house of the crime, there aren't just police cars, but numerous news vans, people always curious about tragedies. There's an ambulance taking care of the people who fainted after they saw the front of the house.
Alice sees the blood first, a trail which leads from a tree in front of the house to the front door. It's thick and redder than it's supposed to be. She feels the death nearby and when it passes her, she shivers. It feels too similar to Rob's touch and she immediately regrets making him so mad this morning. He could've been useful, he could tell her what happened before she would find out herself.
She's ready for anything, always was. To this day there wasn't a crime scene that shocked her and Alice doubts it'll change today. It's one of the reason people working with her always looked at like she was a freak. Alice doesn't have trouble admitting it, death is death, no matter in which form.
Torres is leaning on the wall near the front door. He's taking deep breaths and Alice instantly knows there's a child involved. It's the only thing that could disturb him this way, nothing shocks him otherwise and that's one of the reasons why he doesn't look at her the way others do. They have things in common, things they never talk about and probably never would, but it makes Alice appreciate him.
Detective Simon Torres doesn't look like a man scared of anything, and Alice knows it's only partly true. Just few years older than her, he was an army snipper who came back to be a hero once again. He was seeking out danger, hoping to cleanse himself for surviving when so many of his comrades didn't. His only weakness is his family, a wife and a daughter, and a reason for him looking sick right now.
“You okay there, Torres?” she asks hoping she sounds at least a little bit concerned. He shakes his head, raises his hand and when she moves it lands loudly on her shoulder. Torres is a big man and she feels it herself now as he leans on her for support. Alice helps him of the wall and together they walk slowly toward the officers in the house.
Nobody notices them when they enter, but it's very difficult not to notice the woman sitting on the floor crying. She has blood all over her clothes, her hands look like she bathed them in it, but the worst about her appearance are the cries. Alice knows how it feels when you lose absolutely everything, when nothing remains, but even that fades in comparison to the woman's cries.
Alice doesn't see the body but she sees the pink pyjamas soaked in blood, she makes the connection and hopes that they wouldn't let her talk to the woman. There's nothing she could say to her. She desperately needs Rob, she realizes. “What happened?” she whispers to Torres while the officers are trying to question the woman.
He motions for her to follow him, and then step out of the hallway to the kitchen. Outline of a body is drawn on the floor near the kitchen bench, the blood marks all over the wall and floor. Alice doesn't have trouble imagining how this one went. Stabbed against the wall. Torres follows her line of sight.
“It was the husband, twelve stab wounds to his abdomen and face. He had no chance, then she moved onto the...,” he chokes again and she shakes her head. She has a good idea what happened afterwards.
“Did the wife confess?” she asks moving around the kitchen slowly. Alice hears Torres having trouble breathing and she wants to send him out, to collect himself before he would contaminate the crime scene. She stops herself because she should feel empathy, should understand his feelings because of his own daughter. But she doesn't and she again regrets not having Rob on her side. He could remind her. The ghost telling her how to be human, there's joke in it somewhere.
“No,” Torres answers after a while and follows in her footsteps tracing the crime. “She doesn't remember anything. She says she woke up on the floor in the living room with all the blood around her.”
“She could be lying,” Alice points out but he firmly shakes his head.
“No, I saw her eyes. She didn't lie. Something happened here last night and it wasn't a mother killing her child,” he has stone in his eyes and she knows she would need a hard evidence to persuade him. He's a parent and he finds difficult to imagine a mother killing her child in such way, to her, it's just surprising, not impossible. People do horrible things each and every day, show cruelty toward children, animals, elders who simply couldn't fight back. The world is like that, cruel and indifferent. She knows, she has no soul.
“What if the evidence shows otherwise?” the words fly out before she has a chance to stop them, and she sees him flinch. For a second he looks at her exactly like everyone else does and it stings her in a way she doesn't remember ever feeling. Maybe a long time ago, but feelings faded. They faded and left and now she's this.
“You might doubt, but I do not, Benson,” he snaps and turns on his heel.
“Fuck,” she mutters but instead of following him, she continues to the living room where other detectives keep trying to question Mrs. Holloway. The woman in question is still crying, her hands shaking badly and Alice is reminded of that horrible day at the hospital. Not that she remembers much, just visions and pain. She remembers the pain the most. Is Mrs. Holloway through the same she did so many years ago?
“Ah, Benson, nice of you to show up,” London mutters and she simply rolls her eyes and stands behind him watching.
They made a woman lead the questioning, a woman Alice doesn't know, but she smells a shrink from miles away. She's sitting on the coffee table in front of the suspect, holds her hands in hers and whispers to her that she needs to remember.
“No, no, no,” Claire Holloway chants. “I didn't, I can't.” She holds her eyes closed tightly, like she's trying to turn the world off, or maybe she's just hoping to wake up from a nightmare. It looks like one, Alice gives her that. The shirk isn't giving up though.
“What happened last night, Claire, tell us,” she says, adds a tearful “please” at the end and it seems to snap her out of her state. She looks around the room first, her eyes land on Alice and she isn't sure if she's supposed to smile or not. But then she moves them away and she releases a breath.
“I came home from work, and the house was a terrible mess. I remember being angry,” her voice sounds dull, empty, like there was a puppeteer behind her moving her lips to the right words. And distinct chill goes through the room, Alice is the only one to shiver and Claire Holloway notices.
“Then I remember nothing,” she continues, stays silent after that and no matter how the shirk tries, there's nothing more. Only then Alice realizes she wishes there would be too. Because suspicion starts to claw at her insides, something is very wrong here.
--
She goes back to her flat on her way to the station. Cassandra is lying across her bed but Rob is nowhere to be seen. “Rob, I'm sorry,” Alice calls out turning around hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She goes to the kitchen, bathroom and back, calls his name repeatedly.
“Come on, Rob, I know I screwed up,” she knows she needs to apologize first, telling him she needs him to find out what happened wouldn't exactly make it better between them, and she's sorry a little. He annoys, patronizes her but he's the only connection to humanity she has and if she loses it, nothing remains. “Please,” she whispers.
Cassandra meows and licks its paws.
“Oh, don't start,” she tells it and storms out of the flat.
She arrives at the station during lunch break. Torres is not there and she imagines he got that rare need to be with his family during this time. It happens whenever a case is too much for him and that's not often. It's more rare that her being nice to the people around her, but it happened once or twice and Alice remembers, stops herself from calling him and flops down behind her desk and googles Claire Holloway.
She knows she could just read the file for once, attend the briefing, but she always preferred doing her research on her own. They tolerate her just because she has such a high solving rate, it does help to have a dead brother who could talk to the victims and simply ask who did it. Her rate could've been much higher if she wouldn't piss off the said brother on a daily basis.
A picture of Claire appears on her screen, a successful manager in one of the biggest marketing companies in the city, with a big house and a husband who was willing to sacrifice his own career progress to take care of their daughter. It should've been a perfect picture but Alice knows things never are the way they seem to be. Reality is always worse, and she imagines John Holloway feeling left out of the loop, being a house-husband of much more successful wife. She imagines Claire feeling like a bad mother and wife, they were probably fighting a lot, maybe there was the word divorce in the air.
“Benson, to my office,” DIC Warden calls across the offices. Alice ignores him, at least for a while till he doesn't lean out of his office. It means it really is important. “Get your ass here, now.”
Alice closes her computer, she never likes to share her findings and theories. Sometimes she does with Torres, but very rarely. She's a loner and likes to work alone, Rob she can't count, really.
Warden is standing near the window when she enters, he motions for her to sit but Alice never does, instead she leans on the wall and crosses her arms. “You need something?” she asks watching him fight with himself.
She knows why he called her, why he always calls her. When a case is too tough or too important, he always calls for her. There are men and more experienced officers but when he needs something solved quickly and quietly, he needs her and Alice almost takes pride in that. But mostly she likes to watch him squirm when he realizes that only she can do it to everyone's satisfaction. There would be no mess and there would be a result, and that exactly he needs.
“Close the door, Benson,” Warden orders and she obeys without any comment. It doesn't happen often but sometimes even Alice knows when to hold her mouth shut.
“You know why I called you. The Holloway's murder is all over the news already. It makes all the crazy people come out and I need it closed as fast as possible, without any mess in media, understood?” it's a speech he knows well, she does too and Alice simply nods only adding Torres to the mix.
“Sure, whatever,” he dismisses her with a wave of his hand and Alice is gone sooner than it lands back on his face. “Damn woman,” he mutters to himself and reaches for the phone that started to make a horribly shrilling noises.
Torres is at his desk when she comes out. He has one coffee in his hand, second is waiting for her on hers. “Thanks,” she says taking it. Alice knows what it means, it's an apology, why, she isn't sure. She was the one insensible, she probably hurt him, his man's pride of whatever they call it. But maybe she doesn't, she really doesn't even pretend she understands.
“Don't mention it,” he replies. “Did Warden already put you on that case?”
Alice nods.
“Did you ask for me?”
She nods again. Torres seems to be satisfied, continues to sip his coffee and Alice waits for more questions. She has ready her answers but they continue to sit there in silence each pondering completely different things. When her cup is empty, she hops of her desk she was sitting on to go and throw it in the bin, Rob is staring at her across the room.
She moves towards him but he dissolves into the air.
--
The offices of Darrum Marketing look like something out a futuristic movies, lots of white, lots of steel and lots of weirdly dressed people. “We have very free dress code, we want our employees to feel at home,” the woman showing them around tells them with a smile. Alice can see it's a fake one, they came here to talk about their boss who killed her own family and she's talking about dress code. She suspect they have a list a things not to talk about too.
Torres just nods, his brow furrowed and Alice tries to read what it could mean. Maybe it's the case still, maybe it's something else. He was unusually quiet after he came back from lunch, but she wouldn't know when his silence is still unusual and when it's not. She knows him for more than five years and he's still a mystery to her, well except his apparent hero-complex, but most of the people are mystery to her. What makes them tick and what makes them love and what makes them hate, Alice has no idea.
The woman continues to babble on about the atmosphere and successes their company had achieved in last year. Both are ignoring her, only when she finally mentions Juliet Chariot, they turn toward her. “Since Mrs. Holloway isn't coming back to work just yet, Juliet took over her affairs for now. She's expecting you,” she says knocking on an office door and soon after they open.
A young blonde woman opens them, her eyes are blood-shot and she was obviously reapplying her make up when they knocked. She looks very distressed and Alice notices her hands are shaking. “Oh, you must be from the police,” she steps away wiping some of the tears that make a late appearance.
“Thank you, Amanda,” she says to the their guide and she nods and immediately takes a leave.
“Please, sit down, I'll be with you in a second,” Miss Chariot notes before running into a door at the side of the office, which looks like a small bathroom.
Alice takes the time to look around the office. It mostly looks like the rest of the building, very white and very futuristic-like but it has Claire Holloway's personal touches. Plants on the both sides of the huge window, plenty of pictures and a big print of the whole family on the wall. They look happy on it, and when Alice catches Torres staring at it with an odd look on his face.
“Do you think it's real?” Alice asks because she needs to understand.
“What?” he asks, confusion written all over his face. He almost looks pained to look at the past happiness of a family that doesn't exist anymore. But maybe she should be feeling the same way, she just doesn't know how.
“Their happiness,” she points her finger at the picture. “Can you fake it for a picture?” She expects his look to be more shocked but he knows her a little, knows that there're things about the world she doesn't understand. Sometimes she wonders why he even stays at her side, why he bothers, but it might just be his hero-complex. Maybe he thinks he can fix her.
“Some of it, you can, yes. But this picture is real,” Torres answers and he sounds so sure she just has to ask.
“How do you know?”
He turns towards her, looks at her for a long time, and then simply whispers that “he just does”. Alice wants to push him further, add more why's but Juliet Chariot chooses that time to enter the office. Her make-up fixed, her eyes almost clear of tears.
“I apologize you had to wait for me, I just have trouble taking in what happened,” she says with a shake of her head and leans on the desk in front of them. It's a cue for them to sit and they both do. Alice takes on observing Miss Chariot while Torres takes on the talking.
“That's understandable, Miss Chariot. Were you and Mrs. Holloway close?” he leans forward on his knees as he asks, he has that “trust me” look on his face. It's the one that makes him the best on interrogation. Alice might have the highest solving rate, but more than a few of those number she has just thanks to him.
“Juliet,” she adds first a sad smile. “And yes, we were friends, well, as much as a boss and an assistant could be. But she spent most of her time here, so she didn't have many people to talk to.”
Her eyes briefly flick to Alice's and she immediately straightens. It means something, she knows, but as just of now, she has no clue what.
“She told you of any trouble she was having with her husband?” Torres poses the question very carefully, letting the words out slowly, his tone incredibly warm. But even that doesn't help and a very haunted look settles upon Juliet's face. She fully realizes that each of her words could seal the fate of her boss.
Alice watches her fight it, watches her hands grip the desk for support. There's something she could tell them, something that could be important.
Torres notices too, leans even further front. “Please, think carefully, Juliet. Anything you tell could help us make sense on what happened. Nobody is blaming your boss for what happened, but we need to follow every direction,” he looks like he doesn't believe in Claire Holloway's guilt. It's there, carved into his face, the same resolution with which he told her their happiness was real. And Alice wants to believe him, makes out a theory on her own to support his. But she can't tell him.
Juliet still doesn't look convinced. She crossed her arms over her chest and takes a deep breath. “They were having some trouble, like any other family. But they were working on it, visiting a marriage counselor once a week,” it's all out in one breath and then tears are back and Torres is standing up putting his arms around her shoulders.
But Alice has more questions. “Why?” she asks and Torres throws her a dirty look. “Why were they having trouble? What caused them?”
Juliet wipes the tears with the back of her hand, she tries to look collected, tries to be strong for sake of someone else and Alice has once again trouble to understand. She looks straight at her while she answers.
“It didn't work, with John staying home and Claire working, but they were working on it. Claire would never...,” she turns away and Torres pulls her to his arms. He believes her, Alice sees it on his face. She believes her too.
--
They leave with the name and the address of the marriage counselor, Dr. Ginsberg, but when they call his office, his assistant tells them he is unavailable.
“We should just stop by, see what we can get out of his assistant,” Torres suggests but Alice has something else in mind. She needs to go back to Holloway's house, but she needs to go alone. She felt it then, felt the cold and the death but she needs to be sure. She would need to talk to Claire Holloway too, to see if they have something in common, but not yet. First she needs something to hold onto.
She hopes Rob will be there too.
“You do that, I have a few things to catch onto. We'll meet at the station afterwards,” it's an order, and even though she can see he has a few questions on his own, Torres simply nods and hails a cab while she drives to Holloway's house. He didn't question her, didn't try to find out what it's about. Alice likes that about him, he has no trouble being ordered by woman, he respects her. He might have his doubts, but he waits for more information before he voices them.
He's the closest thing she'll ever have to a friend. Rob reminds her of that daily, and sometimes she thinks he's jealous.
He's at the house when she arrives and Alice is actually surprised, but she manages to bite down at the sarcastic remark that's crawling up her throat.
Rob is sitting at the kitchen bench, his hair is falling to his face and she has a sudden flashback of smoothing it away for him, of touching his cheek, of actually feeling his presence. These memories are difficult to accept, she remembers them so clearly and yet it feels like she's watching someone else's life, not hers. This Alice never loved her brother, this Alice is annoyed by his presence, this Alice doesn't know how to feel.
“Sometimes I know what you think, you know,” he says matter-of-factly, turns to her for a second and there's a smile she could remember too. “Especially when it involves me.”
But Alice knows he's playing her, teasing her the way he used to when they were children and he was still alive. “Get over yourself. I'm sorry, okay,” she tries not to sound annoyed, but she still refuses to look at him while she apologizes. It could come back and bit, and it certainly will if it'll be in his power.
He smiles wider and jumps down from the bench, starts to walk through the house and Alice follows him. “Did you talk to the husband?” she ask because that's the reason she needs him now, the reason she came to the house hoping he'll already here.
They come into the hallway, close to the door and Rob shakes his head. “I couldn't find him. He's probably confused, and he might be gone already. It happens,” he answers but this time Alice shakes her head.
“No, he isn't gone. I'm sure of it. What about the daughter?” she says but doesn't elaborate on why she's so sure. But he surely must know, he's the only one who understands what happened to her.
“She's definitely gone,” he says with coldness in his voice. He could be lying, Alice thinks, but she isn't pushing him. Not just yet. “So what do you think happened?” it's his turn to ask, let her collect her thoughts, voice what she was thinking all along. It was their way, share their findings and then let her work through them.
Alice moves towards the door and steps outside trying to put herself into Claire Holloway's position. She holds her hand out, opening them and going inside. “She came home from work late, very late. The house is already dark, everyone's asleep,” she stops, looks up at Rob and he nods. She needs his confirmation, Alice trusts in her own abilities but sometimes cases are too important to count on her own mind. “How is she feeling?” she asks Rob and stops in the middle of the living room imagining her next steps.
“Tired, probably. Maybe frustrated because she missed her daughter's bedtime, maybe angry at herself,” he says turning around her and Alice feels the hair on her neck stand up. It used to happen when he was still alive, when she was still alive but now it's more intense. He's dead and she could feel it with every fiber of her body.
“Why would she be angry?” Alice doesn't wait for his answer and moves towards the kitchen. Claire's bags are still lying near the wall, there're papers and her scarf. Alice crouches towards them, takes a pair of gloves from her back pocket and puts them on.
“She probably wanted to be home earlier, to spend some time with her daughter. But she again didn't watch the time properly, got mixed in something she could've completely avoided.”
He's getting better at this. He spends time at the station with her, sometimes without her and sometimes he disappears for days. Alice think he could enjoy this, maybe this was his future all along, maybe she's living his life for him. She had became the black sheep of the family after he had died, she had abandoned themcompletely, like he did. It makes a disturbing sense. She had killed him, so now she has to live his life.
“She brought work with her home,” she notes. There're not just papers, her journal is in the bag, as is her computer.
He nods. “She wanted to be home early and continue working here.”
Alice congratulates herself on getting something right and follows the path of Claire Holloway into the kitchen. She sees what Claire did, empty pots and dirty glasses, and mess that could've been avoided. “She sees the mess in the kitchen, she walks around it. What does she feel?”
“Anger, more frustration, she came home tired and frustrated already. Exhausted probably, physically and emotionally. She just wanted peace,” Rob walks around her, stares at mess at their fee that nobody cleaned yet.
“It was her, wasn't it?” she asked pointing at the broken glasses. They could suspect someone else, pretend there was another person in the house with them, someone who did all those terrible things and it wasn't Claire Holloway. Alice wants to find clues to that, for an unknown reason, she wants Torres to be right.
Rob's shaking his head. He looks around the room wants more and there's confusion in his features. Too much of it. It makes her uncomfortable. Her big brother always knew everything.
“It makes no sense, the mess made her angry, she just want to be able to rest. Claire Holloway hates when things aren't in order, you could see her in her office. Everywhere,” he motions around him and Alice wants to ask when he was in her office. She's afraid she knows.
“So who did it then? There's no evidence of another person in the house, there were multiple print on the glasses but none of them belongs to someone unknown,” she points out to him and Rob looks at her, looking for an answer in the places where it isn't.
“I don't know,” he shakes his head, obviously frustrated. “There's must be an answer somewhere. Maybe Torres will find out something from the counselor's assistant.” Alice just nods, tired of asking how he knows. She knows how he knows, he has been following them around all day not making himself visible to her. It drives her crazy when he does it. A couple of years ago he had trouble talking, things fell through his fingers. Now he could throw a plate at her head in a fit of rage, though he never would. He disappears when he's angry.
Alice sneaks a look at her watch. “Maybe we should go and ask him.”
Rob nods and walks out of the house as anyone would. She follows closely behind but something stops her. The chill stayed behind, the death's still lurking in the house but it feels different, foreign. It's unlikely anything Alice ever experienced and she turns around wanting to leave the house. A dark shadow flies through her and she feels sadness so deep it makes her knees buckle. It's just seconds, but during them she sees Rob smiling, herself smiling back. He's leaning above her.
“I'll never ever leave you,” he's saying and she sees herself reaching up and cupping his cheek. But that's a different Alice, her hair is long and blonde and she loves her brother unlike anyone.
The picture disappears from her mind and soon as the shadow leaves her body. She's on her knees gasping, the pain's gone but there's echo. Echo that never ever left.
Series: Wonderland
Author:
karlamartinova
Genre: Drama, Crime, Fantasy
Rating: R
Warnings: violence, gore, sexual situations
Words: 5777
Disclaimer: All mine!
AN: Finally posting the first chapter of my fantasy novel, why now? Not sure, however, enjoy!
Summary: Detective Alice Benson isn't your typical police officer, but even she has trouble digesting a string of disturbing violent murders. Why are people suddenly murdering their loved ones? With the help from her living partner Simon Torres and the ghost of her twin brother Rob, Alice needs to discover why are these completely different people acting so very similar and why is feels so very familiar to a past she's trying to forget.
.
The house is dark when she finally reaches the door. It shouldn't be surprising, it's almost midnight and after the whole day spent with their daughter, John must have been exhausted. Jasmine is five and a little bit too full of energy, and Claire sometimes feels that her promotion came to save her from failing as a mother.
With that in mind she steps into their house and finds it absolutely wrecked. “Damn you, John,” she mutters under her breath when she sees toys, plates and clothes all in one heap on the floor between the couch and the TV. There's a blanket spread over two chair there too. A tent for Jasmine, and Claire is almost afraid to see what's under it.
She imagines pasta all over her expensive carpet and anger fills her up like an empty cup, her nostrils almost flare up and she stalks over to the kitchen to check the state of it. It's even worse, the sink is full of dishes and there're glasses and empty bottles of juice and Claire suddenly doesn't care about being a bad mother.
When it happens, she doesn't even notice. One moments she's just angry, the second , there's something else here, something much worse settling inside her. Her eyes change, but Claire doesn't see it because Claire is no longer there. Whoever is, pushes away all the dishes who fall to the floor with loud thud. Glasses break and the splinters fly through the whole room, and John runs to the kitchen with horrified expression on his face.
“What the fuck, Claire,” he screams but his voice dies out as he sees her face. His own changes, possible anger is replaced by fear as he starts to back out of the room. The person who looks entirely too much like his wife opens the kitchen drawer and draws out a knife.
“Claire,” John whispers hoping she's there somewhere behind those dark eyes.
She smiles. “Yes, darling, would you like to say something to her?” it asks and takes few more steps towards him. “Would you like to say to her how much you love her before her hands tore you apart?”
But John is frozen in fear, his feet unable to move and his back stuck to the wall. He wants to scream, he desperately wants to scream but Jasmine might wake up, and the last thing he wants to is to draw attention of this thing to their daughter. His last thought is on her too.
“Please, spare her,” he thinks as the knife finds his heart.
--
It's the phone that wakes her up, but it might have been Rob as well. He's quietly talking to Cassandra and Alice should find it weird. For one, he hates cats, he threw a real ghostly fit when she brought the black kitten home. Secondly, cats don't really, or maybe they do talk to ghosts. There're far too many things she isn't sure about.
“Your phone beeped,” Rob announces walking into her room, Cassandra hot on his heels. It's wrapping its tail around his calf and Alice wonders how's it even possible. The touch doesn't seem to cause any pain, it's purring loudly and absolutely ignores the person who feeds it. Alice feels betrayed, or an echo of betrayal since isn't sure how she's even supposed to feel.
“And since when you became such friends?” she asks pushing herself up. She sleeps naked and Rob flinches. Again. It's becoming tiring, she thinks, but she's surely isn't about to change her habits just to make her dead brother more comfortable around her flat. She hadn't invited him anyway.
Rob smiles affectionately at the cat. “Since she's the only one around here talking to me. But seriously, sis, you should call back, it's important,” he motions toward the phone and Alice is suddenly glad he hasn't mastered touching object just now. When he throws a fit, things are flying around, but when he's calm he cannot lift things no matter how he tries. He finds it frustrating, she mostly amusing.
Alice rolls her eyes. “Fuck me,” she answers as she stalks towards the bathroom. She hates when he's like this, paternal and annoying. Sometimes he reminds her of their father and when she had said so him so, he didn't talk to her for days. Having a brooding ghost around isn't fun though, not as much as she would like it to be.
She's brushing her teeth when he appears behind her. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asks, frustration visible on his face. He looks so human that touching him wouldn't seem so wrong to her. But he isn't and touching him causes pain.
Alice meets his eyes in the mirror. There's sadness in them, something else too, and she's again remained of how their life used to be, how happy they used to be. But then he had died and she had died and now they're living in their own personal hell. Some days Alice wants him gone, some days, she needs him more than anything. But she still likes to irritate the fuck out of him. Today is one of those days.
She leans over the sink and spits out the tooth paste. “Because you're being like him,” she says and reaches for the shirt hanging on the shower stall door. When her head comes out of it, Rob is gone.
He isn't in the bedroom either and after a careful inspection, she doesn't find him in the flat at all. Alice releases a deep breath. “Shit,” she mutters, finally reaching for her phone. The last missed call is from Torres and she dials him first. He picks up after first ring.
“Where the hell are you?” he says as a greeting and Alice rolls her eyes. Is today a “patronize the shit out of Alice” day?
“On my way,” she says taking her jacket from the chair and moving quickly towards the door. The urgency in his voice makes her move, not that she would admit that to him. “Where should I be?”
“The Pines, follow the line of police cars. It's bad, Benson, really bad. Prepare yourself,” he ends the call then and Alice is already out of the door, Cassandra meowing loudly.
--
It's too easy to find the house of the crime, there aren't just police cars, but numerous news vans, people always curious about tragedies. There's an ambulance taking care of the people who fainted after they saw the front of the house.
Alice sees the blood first, a trail which leads from a tree in front of the house to the front door. It's thick and redder than it's supposed to be. She feels the death nearby and when it passes her, she shivers. It feels too similar to Rob's touch and she immediately regrets making him so mad this morning. He could've been useful, he could tell her what happened before she would find out herself.
She's ready for anything, always was. To this day there wasn't a crime scene that shocked her and Alice doubts it'll change today. It's one of the reason people working with her always looked at like she was a freak. Alice doesn't have trouble admitting it, death is death, no matter in which form.
Torres is leaning on the wall near the front door. He's taking deep breaths and Alice instantly knows there's a child involved. It's the only thing that could disturb him this way, nothing shocks him otherwise and that's one of the reasons why he doesn't look at her the way others do. They have things in common, things they never talk about and probably never would, but it makes Alice appreciate him.
Detective Simon Torres doesn't look like a man scared of anything, and Alice knows it's only partly true. Just few years older than her, he was an army snipper who came back to be a hero once again. He was seeking out danger, hoping to cleanse himself for surviving when so many of his comrades didn't. His only weakness is his family, a wife and a daughter, and a reason for him looking sick right now.
“You okay there, Torres?” she asks hoping she sounds at least a little bit concerned. He shakes his head, raises his hand and when she moves it lands loudly on her shoulder. Torres is a big man and she feels it herself now as he leans on her for support. Alice helps him of the wall and together they walk slowly toward the officers in the house.
Nobody notices them when they enter, but it's very difficult not to notice the woman sitting on the floor crying. She has blood all over her clothes, her hands look like she bathed them in it, but the worst about her appearance are the cries. Alice knows how it feels when you lose absolutely everything, when nothing remains, but even that fades in comparison to the woman's cries.
Alice doesn't see the body but she sees the pink pyjamas soaked in blood, she makes the connection and hopes that they wouldn't let her talk to the woman. There's nothing she could say to her. She desperately needs Rob, she realizes. “What happened?” she whispers to Torres while the officers are trying to question the woman.
He motions for her to follow him, and then step out of the hallway to the kitchen. Outline of a body is drawn on the floor near the kitchen bench, the blood marks all over the wall and floor. Alice doesn't have trouble imagining how this one went. Stabbed against the wall. Torres follows her line of sight.
“It was the husband, twelve stab wounds to his abdomen and face. He had no chance, then she moved onto the...,” he chokes again and she shakes her head. She has a good idea what happened afterwards.
“Did the wife confess?” she asks moving around the kitchen slowly. Alice hears Torres having trouble breathing and she wants to send him out, to collect himself before he would contaminate the crime scene. She stops herself because she should feel empathy, should understand his feelings because of his own daughter. But she doesn't and she again regrets not having Rob on her side. He could remind her. The ghost telling her how to be human, there's joke in it somewhere.
“No,” Torres answers after a while and follows in her footsteps tracing the crime. “She doesn't remember anything. She says she woke up on the floor in the living room with all the blood around her.”
“She could be lying,” Alice points out but he firmly shakes his head.
“No, I saw her eyes. She didn't lie. Something happened here last night and it wasn't a mother killing her child,” he has stone in his eyes and she knows she would need a hard evidence to persuade him. He's a parent and he finds difficult to imagine a mother killing her child in such way, to her, it's just surprising, not impossible. People do horrible things each and every day, show cruelty toward children, animals, elders who simply couldn't fight back. The world is like that, cruel and indifferent. She knows, she has no soul.
“What if the evidence shows otherwise?” the words fly out before she has a chance to stop them, and she sees him flinch. For a second he looks at her exactly like everyone else does and it stings her in a way she doesn't remember ever feeling. Maybe a long time ago, but feelings faded. They faded and left and now she's this.
“You might doubt, but I do not, Benson,” he snaps and turns on his heel.
“Fuck,” she mutters but instead of following him, she continues to the living room where other detectives keep trying to question Mrs. Holloway. The woman in question is still crying, her hands shaking badly and Alice is reminded of that horrible day at the hospital. Not that she remembers much, just visions and pain. She remembers the pain the most. Is Mrs. Holloway through the same she did so many years ago?
“Ah, Benson, nice of you to show up,” London mutters and she simply rolls her eyes and stands behind him watching.
They made a woman lead the questioning, a woman Alice doesn't know, but she smells a shrink from miles away. She's sitting on the coffee table in front of the suspect, holds her hands in hers and whispers to her that she needs to remember.
“No, no, no,” Claire Holloway chants. “I didn't, I can't.” She holds her eyes closed tightly, like she's trying to turn the world off, or maybe she's just hoping to wake up from a nightmare. It looks like one, Alice gives her that. The shirk isn't giving up though.
“What happened last night, Claire, tell us,” she says, adds a tearful “please” at the end and it seems to snap her out of her state. She looks around the room first, her eyes land on Alice and she isn't sure if she's supposed to smile or not. But then she moves them away and she releases a breath.
“I came home from work, and the house was a terrible mess. I remember being angry,” her voice sounds dull, empty, like there was a puppeteer behind her moving her lips to the right words. And distinct chill goes through the room, Alice is the only one to shiver and Claire Holloway notices.
“Then I remember nothing,” she continues, stays silent after that and no matter how the shirk tries, there's nothing more. Only then Alice realizes she wishes there would be too. Because suspicion starts to claw at her insides, something is very wrong here.
--
She goes back to her flat on her way to the station. Cassandra is lying across her bed but Rob is nowhere to be seen. “Rob, I'm sorry,” Alice calls out turning around hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She goes to the kitchen, bathroom and back, calls his name repeatedly.
“Come on, Rob, I know I screwed up,” she knows she needs to apologize first, telling him she needs him to find out what happened wouldn't exactly make it better between them, and she's sorry a little. He annoys, patronizes her but he's the only connection to humanity she has and if she loses it, nothing remains. “Please,” she whispers.
Cassandra meows and licks its paws.
“Oh, don't start,” she tells it and storms out of the flat.
She arrives at the station during lunch break. Torres is not there and she imagines he got that rare need to be with his family during this time. It happens whenever a case is too much for him and that's not often. It's more rare that her being nice to the people around her, but it happened once or twice and Alice remembers, stops herself from calling him and flops down behind her desk and googles Claire Holloway.
She knows she could just read the file for once, attend the briefing, but she always preferred doing her research on her own. They tolerate her just because she has such a high solving rate, it does help to have a dead brother who could talk to the victims and simply ask who did it. Her rate could've been much higher if she wouldn't piss off the said brother on a daily basis.
A picture of Claire appears on her screen, a successful manager in one of the biggest marketing companies in the city, with a big house and a husband who was willing to sacrifice his own career progress to take care of their daughter. It should've been a perfect picture but Alice knows things never are the way they seem to be. Reality is always worse, and she imagines John Holloway feeling left out of the loop, being a house-husband of much more successful wife. She imagines Claire feeling like a bad mother and wife, they were probably fighting a lot, maybe there was the word divorce in the air.
“Benson, to my office,” DIC Warden calls across the offices. Alice ignores him, at least for a while till he doesn't lean out of his office. It means it really is important. “Get your ass here, now.”
Alice closes her computer, she never likes to share her findings and theories. Sometimes she does with Torres, but very rarely. She's a loner and likes to work alone, Rob she can't count, really.
Warden is standing near the window when she enters, he motions for her to sit but Alice never does, instead she leans on the wall and crosses her arms. “You need something?” she asks watching him fight with himself.
She knows why he called her, why he always calls her. When a case is too tough or too important, he always calls for her. There are men and more experienced officers but when he needs something solved quickly and quietly, he needs her and Alice almost takes pride in that. But mostly she likes to watch him squirm when he realizes that only she can do it to everyone's satisfaction. There would be no mess and there would be a result, and that exactly he needs.
“Close the door, Benson,” Warden orders and she obeys without any comment. It doesn't happen often but sometimes even Alice knows when to hold her mouth shut.
“You know why I called you. The Holloway's murder is all over the news already. It makes all the crazy people come out and I need it closed as fast as possible, without any mess in media, understood?” it's a speech he knows well, she does too and Alice simply nods only adding Torres to the mix.
“Sure, whatever,” he dismisses her with a wave of his hand and Alice is gone sooner than it lands back on his face. “Damn woman,” he mutters to himself and reaches for the phone that started to make a horribly shrilling noises.
Torres is at his desk when she comes out. He has one coffee in his hand, second is waiting for her on hers. “Thanks,” she says taking it. Alice knows what it means, it's an apology, why, she isn't sure. She was the one insensible, she probably hurt him, his man's pride of whatever they call it. But maybe she doesn't, she really doesn't even pretend she understands.
“Don't mention it,” he replies. “Did Warden already put you on that case?”
Alice nods.
“Did you ask for me?”
She nods again. Torres seems to be satisfied, continues to sip his coffee and Alice waits for more questions. She has ready her answers but they continue to sit there in silence each pondering completely different things. When her cup is empty, she hops of her desk she was sitting on to go and throw it in the bin, Rob is staring at her across the room.
She moves towards him but he dissolves into the air.
--
The offices of Darrum Marketing look like something out a futuristic movies, lots of white, lots of steel and lots of weirdly dressed people. “We have very free dress code, we want our employees to feel at home,” the woman showing them around tells them with a smile. Alice can see it's a fake one, they came here to talk about their boss who killed her own family and she's talking about dress code. She suspect they have a list a things not to talk about too.
Torres just nods, his brow furrowed and Alice tries to read what it could mean. Maybe it's the case still, maybe it's something else. He was unusually quiet after he came back from lunch, but she wouldn't know when his silence is still unusual and when it's not. She knows him for more than five years and he's still a mystery to her, well except his apparent hero-complex, but most of the people are mystery to her. What makes them tick and what makes them love and what makes them hate, Alice has no idea.
The woman continues to babble on about the atmosphere and successes their company had achieved in last year. Both are ignoring her, only when she finally mentions Juliet Chariot, they turn toward her. “Since Mrs. Holloway isn't coming back to work just yet, Juliet took over her affairs for now. She's expecting you,” she says knocking on an office door and soon after they open.
A young blonde woman opens them, her eyes are blood-shot and she was obviously reapplying her make up when they knocked. She looks very distressed and Alice notices her hands are shaking. “Oh, you must be from the police,” she steps away wiping some of the tears that make a late appearance.
“Thank you, Amanda,” she says to the their guide and she nods and immediately takes a leave.
“Please, sit down, I'll be with you in a second,” Miss Chariot notes before running into a door at the side of the office, which looks like a small bathroom.
Alice takes the time to look around the office. It mostly looks like the rest of the building, very white and very futuristic-like but it has Claire Holloway's personal touches. Plants on the both sides of the huge window, plenty of pictures and a big print of the whole family on the wall. They look happy on it, and when Alice catches Torres staring at it with an odd look on his face.
“Do you think it's real?” Alice asks because she needs to understand.
“What?” he asks, confusion written all over his face. He almost looks pained to look at the past happiness of a family that doesn't exist anymore. But maybe she should be feeling the same way, she just doesn't know how.
“Their happiness,” she points her finger at the picture. “Can you fake it for a picture?” She expects his look to be more shocked but he knows her a little, knows that there're things about the world she doesn't understand. Sometimes she wonders why he even stays at her side, why he bothers, but it might just be his hero-complex. Maybe he thinks he can fix her.
“Some of it, you can, yes. But this picture is real,” Torres answers and he sounds so sure she just has to ask.
“How do you know?”
He turns towards her, looks at her for a long time, and then simply whispers that “he just does”. Alice wants to push him further, add more why's but Juliet Chariot chooses that time to enter the office. Her make-up fixed, her eyes almost clear of tears.
“I apologize you had to wait for me, I just have trouble taking in what happened,” she says with a shake of her head and leans on the desk in front of them. It's a cue for them to sit and they both do. Alice takes on observing Miss Chariot while Torres takes on the talking.
“That's understandable, Miss Chariot. Were you and Mrs. Holloway close?” he leans forward on his knees as he asks, he has that “trust me” look on his face. It's the one that makes him the best on interrogation. Alice might have the highest solving rate, but more than a few of those number she has just thanks to him.
“Juliet,” she adds first a sad smile. “And yes, we were friends, well, as much as a boss and an assistant could be. But she spent most of her time here, so she didn't have many people to talk to.”
Her eyes briefly flick to Alice's and she immediately straightens. It means something, she knows, but as just of now, she has no clue what.
“She told you of any trouble she was having with her husband?” Torres poses the question very carefully, letting the words out slowly, his tone incredibly warm. But even that doesn't help and a very haunted look settles upon Juliet's face. She fully realizes that each of her words could seal the fate of her boss.
Alice watches her fight it, watches her hands grip the desk for support. There's something she could tell them, something that could be important.
Torres notices too, leans even further front. “Please, think carefully, Juliet. Anything you tell could help us make sense on what happened. Nobody is blaming your boss for what happened, but we need to follow every direction,” he looks like he doesn't believe in Claire Holloway's guilt. It's there, carved into his face, the same resolution with which he told her their happiness was real. And Alice wants to believe him, makes out a theory on her own to support his. But she can't tell him.
Juliet still doesn't look convinced. She crossed her arms over her chest and takes a deep breath. “They were having some trouble, like any other family. But they were working on it, visiting a marriage counselor once a week,” it's all out in one breath and then tears are back and Torres is standing up putting his arms around her shoulders.
But Alice has more questions. “Why?” she asks and Torres throws her a dirty look. “Why were they having trouble? What caused them?”
Juliet wipes the tears with the back of her hand, she tries to look collected, tries to be strong for sake of someone else and Alice has once again trouble to understand. She looks straight at her while she answers.
“It didn't work, with John staying home and Claire working, but they were working on it. Claire would never...,” she turns away and Torres pulls her to his arms. He believes her, Alice sees it on his face. She believes her too.
--
They leave with the name and the address of the marriage counselor, Dr. Ginsberg, but when they call his office, his assistant tells them he is unavailable.
“We should just stop by, see what we can get out of his assistant,” Torres suggests but Alice has something else in mind. She needs to go back to Holloway's house, but she needs to go alone. She felt it then, felt the cold and the death but she needs to be sure. She would need to talk to Claire Holloway too, to see if they have something in common, but not yet. First she needs something to hold onto.
She hopes Rob will be there too.
“You do that, I have a few things to catch onto. We'll meet at the station afterwards,” it's an order, and even though she can see he has a few questions on his own, Torres simply nods and hails a cab while she drives to Holloway's house. He didn't question her, didn't try to find out what it's about. Alice likes that about him, he has no trouble being ordered by woman, he respects her. He might have his doubts, but he waits for more information before he voices them.
He's the closest thing she'll ever have to a friend. Rob reminds her of that daily, and sometimes she thinks he's jealous.
He's at the house when she arrives and Alice is actually surprised, but she manages to bite down at the sarcastic remark that's crawling up her throat.
Rob is sitting at the kitchen bench, his hair is falling to his face and she has a sudden flashback of smoothing it away for him, of touching his cheek, of actually feeling his presence. These memories are difficult to accept, she remembers them so clearly and yet it feels like she's watching someone else's life, not hers. This Alice never loved her brother, this Alice is annoyed by his presence, this Alice doesn't know how to feel.
“Sometimes I know what you think, you know,” he says matter-of-factly, turns to her for a second and there's a smile she could remember too. “Especially when it involves me.”
But Alice knows he's playing her, teasing her the way he used to when they were children and he was still alive. “Get over yourself. I'm sorry, okay,” she tries not to sound annoyed, but she still refuses to look at him while she apologizes. It could come back and bit, and it certainly will if it'll be in his power.
He smiles wider and jumps down from the bench, starts to walk through the house and Alice follows him. “Did you talk to the husband?” she ask because that's the reason she needs him now, the reason she came to the house hoping he'll already here.
They come into the hallway, close to the door and Rob shakes his head. “I couldn't find him. He's probably confused, and he might be gone already. It happens,” he answers but this time Alice shakes her head.
“No, he isn't gone. I'm sure of it. What about the daughter?” she says but doesn't elaborate on why she's so sure. But he surely must know, he's the only one who understands what happened to her.
“She's definitely gone,” he says with coldness in his voice. He could be lying, Alice thinks, but she isn't pushing him. Not just yet. “So what do you think happened?” it's his turn to ask, let her collect her thoughts, voice what she was thinking all along. It was their way, share their findings and then let her work through them.
Alice moves towards the door and steps outside trying to put herself into Claire Holloway's position. She holds her hand out, opening them and going inside. “She came home from work late, very late. The house is already dark, everyone's asleep,” she stops, looks up at Rob and he nods. She needs his confirmation, Alice trusts in her own abilities but sometimes cases are too important to count on her own mind. “How is she feeling?” she asks Rob and stops in the middle of the living room imagining her next steps.
“Tired, probably. Maybe frustrated because she missed her daughter's bedtime, maybe angry at herself,” he says turning around her and Alice feels the hair on her neck stand up. It used to happen when he was still alive, when she was still alive but now it's more intense. He's dead and she could feel it with every fiber of her body.
“Why would she be angry?” Alice doesn't wait for his answer and moves towards the kitchen. Claire's bags are still lying near the wall, there're papers and her scarf. Alice crouches towards them, takes a pair of gloves from her back pocket and puts them on.
“She probably wanted to be home earlier, to spend some time with her daughter. But she again didn't watch the time properly, got mixed in something she could've completely avoided.”
He's getting better at this. He spends time at the station with her, sometimes without her and sometimes he disappears for days. Alice think he could enjoy this, maybe this was his future all along, maybe she's living his life for him. She had became the black sheep of the family after he had died, she had abandoned themcompletely, like he did. It makes a disturbing sense. She had killed him, so now she has to live his life.
“She brought work with her home,” she notes. There're not just papers, her journal is in the bag, as is her computer.
He nods. “She wanted to be home early and continue working here.”
Alice congratulates herself on getting something right and follows the path of Claire Holloway into the kitchen. She sees what Claire did, empty pots and dirty glasses, and mess that could've been avoided. “She sees the mess in the kitchen, she walks around it. What does she feel?”
“Anger, more frustration, she came home tired and frustrated already. Exhausted probably, physically and emotionally. She just wanted peace,” Rob walks around her, stares at mess at their fee that nobody cleaned yet.
“It was her, wasn't it?” she asked pointing at the broken glasses. They could suspect someone else, pretend there was another person in the house with them, someone who did all those terrible things and it wasn't Claire Holloway. Alice wants to find clues to that, for an unknown reason, she wants Torres to be right.
Rob's shaking his head. He looks around the room wants more and there's confusion in his features. Too much of it. It makes her uncomfortable. Her big brother always knew everything.
“It makes no sense, the mess made her angry, she just want to be able to rest. Claire Holloway hates when things aren't in order, you could see her in her office. Everywhere,” he motions around him and Alice wants to ask when he was in her office. She's afraid she knows.
“So who did it then? There's no evidence of another person in the house, there were multiple print on the glasses but none of them belongs to someone unknown,” she points out to him and Rob looks at her, looking for an answer in the places where it isn't.
“I don't know,” he shakes his head, obviously frustrated. “There's must be an answer somewhere. Maybe Torres will find out something from the counselor's assistant.” Alice just nods, tired of asking how he knows. She knows how he knows, he has been following them around all day not making himself visible to her. It drives her crazy when he does it. A couple of years ago he had trouble talking, things fell through his fingers. Now he could throw a plate at her head in a fit of rage, though he never would. He disappears when he's angry.
Alice sneaks a look at her watch. “Maybe we should go and ask him.”
Rob nods and walks out of the house as anyone would. She follows closely behind but something stops her. The chill stayed behind, the death's still lurking in the house but it feels different, foreign. It's unlikely anything Alice ever experienced and she turns around wanting to leave the house. A dark shadow flies through her and she feels sadness so deep it makes her knees buckle. It's just seconds, but during them she sees Rob smiling, herself smiling back. He's leaning above her.
“I'll never ever leave you,” he's saying and she sees herself reaching up and cupping his cheek. But that's a different Alice, her hair is long and blonde and she loves her brother unlike anyone.
The picture disappears from her mind and soon as the shadow leaves her body. She's on her knees gasping, the pain's gone but there's echo. Echo that never ever left.