17. A CRY FROM THE PAST

Brent looks at me with wide questioning eyes. A giggle escapes from my throat. I don't offer any more information to explain why my name changed. He doesn't look worried at all. He does look surprised however.

I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head.

"Anything?" I ask him sweetly.

"I am a bit surprised that you would tell me. I am grateful that you trust me with such a secret though." Brent has shifted back to his controlled demeanour. I envy how in control he is of his emotions. Now it is my turn to be surprised.

"You already knew?" I ask him, feeling the grip of panic wrapping around my throat.

"Yes, I knew. I did a lot of research on you when the vase surfaced on the internet. I had to know who I was dealing with." He looks at me intently.

"I can assure you, you were not easy to find." He offers as reassurance when he sees the panic threatening to take over. "And it was also not easy to link Lubelle to Stella." He is quiet for a few moments. "I really am very good at finding information."

"I can see that." My voice sounds cracked and shaken.

"Would you like to tell me the reason for the name change?" He asks in his soothing voice.

"Don't you know already?" I ask him. There is a hint of irritation in my voice.

"I apologise for invading your privacy Lubelle. I honestly just wanted to find my vase. I did not dig into your past or study your doings. I merely found your location and linked you to a Stella profile on a beauty company's web page. More than that I do not know. Will you please tell me the reason for the name change?" Although his words are spoken softly, I am in no doubt that he has said what he would say about this situation and I am not to push any more on it. I do however have the option of telling or not. It would be a simple yes or no. I do trust him though, and he already found me. If he really wanted, he would be able to find all the information anyway.

"I fled from my life in the city. My fiancé and I stayed together close to where I worked. Everything seemed so perfect. One day our door was kicked down and my fiancé was arrested. He was accused of killing four women. Apparently, he would draw fake tattoos on them with permanent marker after killing them. Half their bodies were covered in perfectly drawn tattoos." I shake my head to bring myself back to where I am. "After he was convicted people started treating me like I helped him. I would be called names and someone broke into my apartment and drew on all my furniture and walls with permanent marker. I felt threatened."

Brent nods.

"Understandably so. I remember the Tattoo killings. At one point in the investigation, they suspected that one of the killings were the work of a copycat." Brent tells slowly.

"That is right! The style of the tattoo was different than the other three."

"Have you ever talked to Tom about the killings?" Brent has either done research on the killings or he remembers from the news coverage. He knows my ex-fiancés name.

"I visited him in jail. It is difficult to talk there. It is loud and you do not have a lot of privacy. He always denied that he was involved. I don't know if he would have told me if he was guilty because of all the surveillance and that they listen to your conversations in jail."

"But you do sound unsure if he is guilty." Brent prods gently.

"Yes, I am not sure that he is guilty. Although I know his drawing style and it does match three of the victim's body art." I look at Brent, there is no judgement in his eyes. This is the first time I am able to speak to someone regarding this matter.

"Why do you suspect his innocence?" Brent's interest is unique. It is not like the others who wanted gossip detail to retell. Brent is genuinely interested in my thoughts and opinion. I appreciate that about him.

"I know how long Tom would take to sketch a drawing. Sometimes it would take him hours to finish a small drawing. He is really good at it but he is truly very slow. For him to kill a woman and draw on her entire body would take a lot of time."

"What if he sketched on them before he killed them?"

"It wouldn't have mattered. If he sketched on them before killing them or if he sketched on them after killing them, it would have taken the same amount of time." I watch Brent quietly. He is thinking about it.

"It would have been great if we could choose the time we go back to." His distant gaze focuses on me. "We would be able to go back and see what exactly happened."

"But we cannot interfere with the past. It would upset the balance." I tell him.

"But we wouldn't change anything. We would just watch the victim and see who kills her." The room grows quiet. For a few moments nobody says anything. Each of us thinking about how it would be to go to the past to get real answers.

"Would you be able to watch someone get killed and not intervene?" I finally break the silence.

"I do not know. I would want to intervene and save her from being killed but I would also know what the consequences to my actions would be and that would keep me from intervening." He sounds so sure of himself. I honestly do not know if I would be able to do nothing.

"And when you get back here and know that an innocent man has gone to prison for a crime he did not commit? Would you be able to do nothing?"

Brent thinks for a moment.

"It depends on what we found out. Maybe it would be easier to lead the investigation in a direction where the actual guilty party will be apprehended."

"Would that not upset the balance?"

"You cannot just sit back and let life happen Lubelle. You have the ability to make decisions and take action. Although you cannot change things in the past, you are entirely in control of your present. As long as you know the difference, I do not see how letting the truth out would upset the balance. In fact, if an innocent man has been sent to jail and is let free for the truth coming out, I would consider that as the balance being restored."

I can only nod. I understand his reasoning. I just don't think I have a strong enough will to not intervene in the past.

I lay down on the makeshift bed and can feel my eyes grow heavy.

"Yes, I think it is best we rest a bit. Tomorrow, we need to check the damage upstairs." Brent shifts on the bed and lays down. It is cold and he covers us with a few blankets. It doesn't take long for me to drift off into a deep sleep.

That night I dream of bus trips on warm summer days. Friendly people who I do not know who makes me feel welcome wherever I go. Good food made the old-fashioned way before everything needed to be too fast or too convenient. Cobble stone pathways that lead to interesting shops and stores. Old cars that look brand new and men who still open the door for you to let you walk through first.

It was a good dream, until Tom appeared. It wasn't the Tom I knew. It was a Tom I saw last when I visited him in jail. His head is shaven and his eyes are sunken into his head. Dark circles are under his eyes and he looks older and very tired. I see him standing before me and looking at me. He murmurs something and I take a step closer. I squint my eyes and focus on his lips. I can see he is talking but I cannot hear a word.

"I don't know what you are saying" I try to tell him but I struggle to talk and my words are very slow and hard to utter. He talks again and I take another step closer. I am now right in front of him. I can see the deep wrinkles that has formed on his face. He has aged far quicker than I have. He looks extremely tired and I feel a deep ache in my chest for this man I had once loved.

"What did you say?" My words are still slow and hard to articulate.

"You know I didn't do it!" He screams at me in a violent rage that makes me stammer backwards. I fall to the ground. Before I hit the cobble stones I wake up.

My heart is racing. I sit up as I struggle to catch my breath.

I know. He couldn't have done it.