Chapter 44th

I questioned the relief his absence brought, knowing it was misguided: He was not gone, and I was not free. He would be back, and soon the little pleasure I derived from seeing him leave would be forgotten under the dread of his returning hour. Still, strangely, my inflamed brain found gladness… it found some sort of relaxation, whatever relaxation could be achieved under those circumstances. In this strange succession of moods, I think I accidentally smile, because the cop… when our eyes met, he frowned and looked away, disturbed. My smile and brief relaxation were gone and the shadows grew thicker again.

"I can't believe it…" he mumbled eventually, my bones aching at the sound of his strangled voice… like an impeding scold, back when being scolded was a big deal. Back when I was a child… which was not very long ago! "…I can't believe you were protecting him!"

I shook, my heart pounding furious, eager, painful agitation rattling me to speak – to scream, if need be, that I did not protect him… not now, at least. Not him, the killer… maybe him the handsome adult I met at school, but certainly not the killer! But what difference was there? What a sad, pathetic excuse! I said nothing, and my rage subsided.

"All this time, you were protecting him! And now because of you, I'll… Oh, God!"

"I… I didn't…" I sighed, mumbling "…I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"He'll kill us, for sure." His eyes moved quickly across the basement as he despaired "Tonight, even: you've urged him to. There will be no time… Why did you have to say those things?! Why would you… God! I don't want to die!"

I endured his acid despair as a well-deserved flogging, only daring to speak when his gaps of muteness grew longer:

"Maybe he won't… Maybe they'll come looking for you sooner. I mean…" hope glowed meekly as the idea brimmed "…you're still in uniform, that means you haven't reported back, right? Not gone home yet… When does your shift end? When would they be expecting you?!"

I was a genius!

No… I wasn't. And Chris was right: why did I always think I was smarter than everyone else? The cop did not light up at my brilliant idea, it was not something he had obtusely ignored… he didn't stir at my plan, so I knew it was a dead end:

"They won't. I'm off duty…" his head drooped as he answered. "I wasn't working anymore, I was supposed to go straight home, but I came here because… because…"

His face contorted with a mixture of disgust and regret at the forming thought, before he spilled it out:

"Gosh, I just wanted to see you! And you're not even…" he didn't finish his sentence before squeezing his eyes and turning his face to his shoulder, where he sobbed.

I breathed a gloomy sigh, then I couldn't help but repeat:

"I'm sorry."

My apology made him shake his head.

"Hey… I mean it." I don't know why I felt the need to say that. Naïve – Chris was right, I was so painfully naïve! "…I'm sorry!"

I couldn't see it, but my words only angered the officer further:

"How could you?!" he raised his head to scream, giving me a fright. His expression then… it was wet, anguished, furious! …And it was all my fault! "How could you do this? How could you cooperate with him?!"

"I didn't." I cowardly defended myself "I didn't know!"

"Oh, for the love of Christ, how could you fall for this?! How on earth would you…" but then he remembered how, and he let out a hysterical laugh "Right! You're a child! That's how. You're Abigail, the one girl I still had to talk to, 'the sister'… That's you, right? I'm so fucking…" his laughing carried on, chilling and maniacal. "You're the sister! And I'm the world's dumbest detective!"

Shame silenced me.

"Duped by a child… oh God!" He laughed on hysterically, looking around the basement, eyes wet with despair, as if there was an audience laughing with him. "If the guys at the academy hear of this. Man… they'll write it on my grave!"

And he laughed on, his chest shaking as the noise subsided, the sick mirth of it lingering deep.

It spited me in a childish way…

"You lied about your age…" he breathed, recovering his sanity "…you lied your age when you introduced yourself to me…" he enumerated, piecing things together "…because you needed to get rid of me. Very smart… you were protecting yourself…"

I watched as his forehead furrowed with the growing doubt.

"…But then again you also seemed to have lied your age to him. My question is why. Why would you do that?" he frowned "…what were you trying to achieve there?!"

I was uncomfortable. I wished I wasn't bound… wished I could turn away, turn my back, sit in the darkest corner of that basement, say nothing and pretend he wasn't there…

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he asked, his face curling up with aversion.

'you make me sick' I could almost hear him say it, could almost read it in his expression. Just like Michael Campbell that day at the principal's office. It stung the same: the way his eyes looked at me now. My heart was pounding again… live coal igniting my veins.

"Well, what about you?!" I protested.

"What about me?!"

"You're a cop! What about instincts… what about training? What about making a slightly better job than leaving a killer out and about like that? I mean, he seems so important now, and yet… he was just walking around my schoolyard!!"

"We couldn't possibly have known!"

"That's sheer incompetence in my book!!"

"The police are not all-seeing!" he raged "We depend upon good citizens reporting bad deeds!"

"Okay… so what about now?! What happened upstairs, how did you go and get yourself so completely subdued?!"

"I expected you were hiding something from me, but I never guessed I'd be attacked!!"

"And I didn't either!" I protested "Believe it or not, I had no idea! And yet, somehow I managed to put up a much better fight than that!"

"Did you, now? Because it doesn't look like it!"

"If I had a gun, I'm sure he couldn't have…" I opened my mouth, looking for the word "…wouldn't have…" but it died cowardly away.

As silence filled the basement, a long sigh followed – truce at last?

"Look…" he spoke more calmly now "…my guard was down, I'll give you that. I had no idea that's what you were hiding!" he justified eagerly, then paused, and despondency returned "but maybe that's bad instincts. You're right. I failed. Before that, I failed in not reading you. Hell, I was looking for a sociopath who strikes around campus… Maybe a schoolyard is not so far of a stretch. I should have been more prepared!"

I had rather enjoyed ditching responsibility onto him as long as he deflected it. Now, it felt cheap… low. He could not be blamed for being in this situation – and I never would have tried to do so, if he didn't confront me about it first. But in the end, his current position was just another notch in my belt – it was no one's fault but my own.

But at least he had stopped talking. In silence, our heads drooped individually into one's own thoughts, and they entertained – or rather tortured us – for a long time as the basement walls grew chilly, damp, quiet as our graves.