Protector - Laurel Dewey [80]
Jane stopped at the front porch, gathering her reserves and turned the doorknob. The door was unlocked. She walked into the house, slamming the door behind her. Emily and Martha were seated at the coffee table. They turned around quickly in surprise. “The door is unlocked!” Jane yelled.
“Oh,” Martha uttered, half-startled from Jane’s sudden entrance. “I went outside to pick some flowers to brighten up the room and I must have left it unlocked.”
“Is that your story?” Jane said, moving into the living room toward Martha. “Because if that’s your story, I could get your ass fired for doing that!”
“Detective! Your language!”
“Fuck my language!” Jane countered. Her head spun in a disorienting haze.
“Detective!”
“Look, Jane,” Emily said, trying to break the tension. “I drew some pictures.” She held up a piece of art paper. “Martha told me to draw a picture of my feelings.”
“A picture of your feelings? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jane dropped the sandwich bag onto the coffee table. “I picked up sandwiches.” She turned to Martha. “Two sandwiches. One for her and one for me.”
“Lunch!” Emily exclaimed.
Jane walked into the kitchen and came to a sudden halt. The back door was wide open. She walked into the living room, hell-bent for action. “Who left this door open?”
Martha stepped forward. “I did! We needed some cross ventilation!”
Jane looked down at Emily who was busily opening up one of the sandwiches. “Did you go outside?”
“No,” Emily said offhandedly.
“Why are you causing such a scene, Detective?”
Jane stormed into the kitchen, slammed the back door and locked it. Martha followed, irritated that she was being ignored. “Detective! I asked you a question!”
Jane could feel herself slipping. She was seconds away from cold-cocking Martha across the floor. “Listen to me very carefully,” she said pointedly. “You know nothing about law enforcement and you know nothing about this case. I’m not sure what your job is, but as far as I’m concerned, you are a glorified babysitter and you’re not even good at that. Now, I’m back. That means you go!”
“Detective, I do not know what has made you so upset or why you are demonstrating aggressive postures—”
“Don’t analyze me!”
“All I am saying is you need to get ahold of yourself and not project your anger onto that innocent child.”
Jane leaned in close to Martha and spoke quietly but directly. “Martha, if you don’t get your fat ass out of here in the next five seconds—”
“I will not be moved by threats!”
Jane jerked forward and Martha quickly jumped back. “Get out!” Jane ordered.
Martha turned around, slightly shaken, and walked into the living room. She gathered her belongings and crossed to Emily who was eating her sandwich. Martha leaned down and touched the flashlight that was still attached to Emily’s jumper strap. “Remember, Emily. Four quick flashes of light are our little signal.”
Emily, her mouth full of bread and meat, could only nod her head and offer a slight smile to acknowledge Martha’s statement. Martha patted Emily on the head and left the house. Jane crossed toward the front door and locked it. She stood still, feeling trapped like a rat in a maze.
Emily spoke up cheerfully. “You picked a good sandwich!” Jane didn’t move. Emily put down her sandwich. “Is everything okay?”
Jane turned to Emily and stared at her. “This is not a game, Emily,” she said quietly. “We’re not here to have fun. We’re not here to get to know each other. They put you back in this house for one reason only. They want you to remember what happened the night your parents were killed so they can catch whoever did it. They know that you know some things based on certain evidence that was found in this house. I was put here to find out what you know. I’m not here to bond with you or tell you stories or play board games. Now, if any of that upsets you, that’s too damn bad. I’m here to do a job. So, I suggest you start thinking real hard so I