It has been two years since my best friend Lucy died. We all expected her to come back home for the "end-of-summer bonfire." Except, she never did. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was here, then I got a call from her mom that she was missing. She was missing for almost a month before police found her body. But the strange thing is, she was only dead for approximately 28 hours. The police ruled it as a homicide. No murder weapon. No prints. Everything sparkly clean. But someone messed up. The police found Lucy's jacket in Karma Walsh's closet with Lucy's blood on it. So, Karma was taken into custody and convicted of the murder of 16 year old Lucy Marshal.
Why am I thinking about that today? Because last week was her two year anniversary. What a strange way to talk about the death of a loved one. Usually we use the word "anniversary" as a celebration. Work anniversary, wedding anniversary, but not a death anniversary. Who came up with that?
I'm sitting on the steps of our church that leads to the sanctuary. My dad is in his office while my mom is leading choir practice. I was looking at my phone, when a man in a black suit approached me. He was wearing black slacks, a gray button down shirt with a black sport coat, black silky tie, black leather shoes, short and black spiky hair, and black sunglasses. He stops in front of me.
"Hi I'm detective Cole." He showed me his badge. "I'm looking for Nicole Riley?"
"What happened? Is everything okay?" I stood up and looked at this man, while he extended his hand.
"Hi, Nicole. I have some questions regarding Lucy Marshal. Do you have some time?"
"Is that some kind of joke? Who are you really?" I yelled. At this point, my dad is walking outside. He asks the detective what's going on, shakes his hand, and asks if he can speak with me. I'm fighting back the urge to cry and yell at this man. Instead, I stand there, staring, silent, angry.
He explains that there is new evidence regarding the death of Lucy, and he wants to ask me some questions. He wants to take me away. He wants to take me from my comfort, my happiness, my bliss. I no sooner stop thinking about Lucy every second of every day, and here comes detective Cole. Bringing Lucy back from the dead. She's no where and everywhere at the same time.
I go with him in his black, Ford Focus. We drive to the police station, in complete silence. I didn't address him, and he didn't address me. We arrive at the station, and he opens the door for me. He extends his hand to me like we're walking into a high school prom. I take his hand, then get out of his car. We walk into the station, and he shows his badge to the officer at the front desk. A buzzer sounds, and a steel door opens, leading to a long hallway. He takes me into an interrogation room with a white table, two folding chairs, and a one-way mirror. He sits across from me, the one-way mirror showing my reflection. He asks if I wanted some coffee or water. I decline. He leaves the room for a few moments, leaving me to my own spiraling thoughts.
What new evidence? What's going on? How is there new evidence after two years? How is any of this possible? My thoughts are interrupted by detective Cole coming back in. He sits down, takes his shoulder strap off and sets a Manila folder down that reads "EVIDENCE" plastered in red stamp. He folds his hands on the table and the folder shares the distance between him and me. I rub my legs, uncomfortable in this situation. He began asking me questions.
"How are you", "are you comfortable", "are you sure I can't get you anything?" I just sit there. Nodding or shaking my head at his questions.
"What's going on?" I cut to the chase. "What new evidence did you find?"I probably sounded too defensive, or maybe too enthusiastic for the man. He folded his arms and leaned toward me. I knew enough from my schooling that this was an intimidation tactic. I responded with my own body language.
"Well, you see, my team and I go out to old crime scenes to pay our respects each year after the cases are closed. We talk about the case, and what went wrong, what went right, and make it a teaching moment for the new and the old officers of my precinct. We like to go over the ground again, then afterwards we pay our respects to those whose lost their lives. While doing so, one of my deputies found something interesting." He opens the Manila folder, and sets a picture of a picture in front of me. "Can you tell me what's in this picture?" He folds his hands on the table, leans towards me, and waits for my response.
"It's a picture of Lucy, me, Sam, and Ashley at Lucy's boathouse from the summer of 2014."
"I want you to look at what is beside the picture." He points to the left of the picture of us, and I notice some things on the ground. It's a button that has a black dove and red flames around it, red lipstick, black eyeliner, mascara, and a knife. I tell him what I see, and he nods. "Yes. These weren't here when we found Lucy's body. These were placed here within the last two months." He unfolded his arms and leaned his back against the chair. He looked at me expectantly.
"Is the lipstick red Cherry bombshell?" I choked out. Tears are trying to find their way to the surface. He nods. "And the button..." I pause, clearing my throat, "that's the button that was missing from the jacket you found in Karma's closet, isn't it?" The room feels like it's spinning. I think I'm going to be sick. I put my head in my hands, pulling on my hair. I can feel my breath catching in my throat with every inhale, every exhale, and every hold in between.
"Yes. These are all items that were presumed missing from Lucy's artifacts. As you said two years ago in your original statement, 'Lucy never goes anywhere without her touch-up bag, especially not her red Cherry bombshell lipstick. That's her signature color.'" He sounded like he was mocking me. Using the sound of my voice from his own. Then he looked me dead in the eyes, leaned in, and continued in his own deeper voice, "So tell me, how do these things appear at her crime scene two years later?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Tears have finally found their way out. "There is no way that these things are here, not unless the wrong person is in prison." I look at him, shocked. He leans back in his chair and says that's what he would like to know.