I pressed my face flat against the glass window, squishing my nose and cheeks against the cold glass and involuntarily fogging it.
They held another inauguration without me. Had Mr. Priest snip the ribbon with a countdown and flowers and all. I said that's not how it works...but they locked me inside without a smidge of concern on their faces.
At least I had cookies by my side.
The Station on the inside was a wide space of basic office furniture strategically placed to look not-so-basic but even worse. The cells were empty and so were the desks, barring two on either side of the main room.
"Name?" Mr. Mills asked me after they came inside and settled on their comfortable seats. Mr. Priest sat in a regal manner, beside me, back straight and eyes pooling with entitled dominance and stared his way through my soul.
"No, I'm very interested in knowing," Mr. Priest had replied when I asked him if he wasn't scared of being misunderstood as a creep.
"You don't really need to know that..." I dragged under my breath.
"Being unwilling to co-operate can increase your punishment," Mr. Mills informed ever-so-kindly. I nodded.
Here goes nothing.
"NiagarafallsRivers."
"Excuse me?" Mr. Priest and Mr. Mills echoed in sync.
I sighed, trying to look anywhere but at them. There was a calender placed on Mr. Mills' table, it had a beautiful cat picture on it. Today's date was encircled in red with a doodled heart, star and crown around it.
"Can you be more decipherable, please?" Mr. Mills suggested, fingers wiggling over his keyboard. Probably itching to type out their first case.
"It's Nia, Nia Rivers," I gulp out, involuntarily tapping my foot against the white marbled floor. Mr. Priest pressed a strict hand on my thigh and stopped the motion with a swift hit of a pencil to my shin.
I groaned, flourishing curses at him.
He clenched his teeth and sucked a breath.
"Freedom of Action?!" I whisper out loud.
"Unethical," Mr. Priest scowled at me. I fought a huge urge of flipping him off.
Can't do that. Don't wanna be sentenced to death.
"I'm sorry, but your name doesn't show up in my records. That's weird." Mr. Mills mumbles with his nose pressed eerily close to his desktop. "Can you give me your full name please?"
I suck in a breath— I hoped my parents weren't surviving on Donkey's rented braincells. I hoped they would have been Belle on the scale of dramatic Disney princesses. I hoped they knew that naming people and things wasn't as easy as assembling a bouquet. I hoped, because reality is a figment of hope's nightmares. I hoped hope would wake up pretty soon.
Here goes—
"I'm telling you, I was not there for buying or selling prostitutes!!"
Mr. Priest jolted up from his seat, moaning something along the lines of "sinners everywhere".
I did open my mouth to speak, but that deep baritone of masculine voice wasn't mine. They weren't even my thoughts.
The three of us turned around and saw Mr. Jacobs leading inside a man.
He towered over the stout frame of Mr. Jacobs with quite a considerable inches. He was lean, dressed in a collared suit and walked with an elegant gait unseen by anyone in Brickery County. His footsteps were long and stable, one hand stuffed inside his pant pocket and another linked to Mr. Jacobs with a handcuff.
"Why was your phone found at the crime scene? It is highly obvious that you were present for the bidding but as soon as you were notified of the Police's presence, everyone ran away! All but you, oh dear me, no no, you got clumsy! And left your phone behind!" Mr. Jacobs narrated some incident that had Mr. Priest and Mr. Mills nodding their head vigorously.
I don't keep up with newspapers, so I nudged Mr. Priest for answers but he shushed me on the spot, concentrating on the duo before us.
pfft.
The man's pretty face was contoured in plain agony. His wide forehead was frowning, rosy lower lip jutted out in a subtle pout. His grey eyes kept rolling back as if to justify the world of its injustices against him.
He looked tired.
"Mister, sir, I've been telling this to you ever since we stepped inside the police vehicle, my phone got exchanged with someone else's at the Airport yesterday," The man recited patiently, breathing gracefully between his words.
I didn't even know that was a thing until I heard him speak. Such eloquence. For what ?!
"That's too much of a coincidence, don't you think?" Mr. Jacobs unlocked the handcuff from his wrist and locked him to of the rods on his desk.
The man breathed out dejectedly.
"Name?" Mr. Jacobs questioned, switching on his computer and getting ready to type out his first record. Gladly, Mr. Mills was too invested in their case to be concerned with mine.
"Aslan Xavier Benedict," The man replied, carding a slender hand through his raven hair. His long, slender, fingers were adorned by silver rings.
I involuntarily licked my lips.
"Hm, I see you don't have any previous criminal records. Too clean...hm, you move a lot. New to Brickery? Oh, no no, you were a previous resident. Hm, not married yet... Do you like engaging in sexual activities?"
"The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery. You must be committed to the Lord and not engage in such devious deeds!" Mr. Priest all but scolded the poor guy.
The man sucked in a breath, grey eyes widening subtly. His raven curls shook with vigour, along with his head, in response to Mr. Jacobs' reply.
A strange flutter arose in my heart. He looked insanely innocent for a moment. Flustered, to say the least. I smiled involuntarily.
He was sat on a chair, long legs spread and crossed at his ankles. His fingers moved in circular motions over his forehead, as he spoke, "I've been sent, from Denmark, here to establish a new branch of INTRIGUE, it's an international magazine. I am not here to auction off prostitutes. You may confirm it with my office."
His words were soothing, patient and un-hasty. His demeanor was calm, yet his hands wouldn't stop fidgeting.
I strangely felt duty-bound to do something.
"It might be a side gig you're into—" Mr. Jacobs started again and unwillingly, my temper flared.
"Can you stop airily accusing the poor man and investigate for real?!" I retorted, shrugging off Mr. Priest's hand from my shoulder and walking up to stand behind the Aslan guy. "He's trying to tell you something, so listen to him! Check his alibi! Check the phone that he currently has because it might lead you to the real criminal. Stop winding him up with your words and wasting everyone's time!"
Somewhere outside, a crow cawed.
And everyone inside, stared at me. For all the right reasons, obviously.
I gulped. Why do I never think before acting?!
I diverted everyone's gaze and looked down, only to see Aslan staring up at me with his narrowed grey eyes.
Well fuck.
"Uhm- mhm- yes- to, I uh, was going to, you know, check the phone and yeah that ability," Mr. Jacobs coughed out, rubbing his hands on his pants.
"Alibi," Aslan corrected.
Mr. Jacobs nodded, head low and fingers typing furiously on the keyboard.
"Tsk tsk tsk," Mr. Priest enunciated. "Sinners all around me, having no respect for the authorities. Disregarding all morals, whatsoever, dear Lord, what has the world come to?!"
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics.
"Why are you speaking for him, dear?" Mr. Mills kindly questioned.
"Yes! Don't you have enough to be guilty for?" Mr. Priest snapped sharply.
I pressed my lips in a thin line and opened my mouth to speak. Why can't a girl stand up for mere humanity?!
"She is my fiancée."
The voice, the words, and the thoughts did not align with mine.
Fingers, ring laden fingers, found mine. Intertwining with my dry, lanky ones. I jolted at the sudden touch and turned to stare at Aslan's proud proclamation.
"I am?!" It was a question, staring in his bland grey eyes. People took it as a proud declaration of entitlement.
"Be fruitful and multiply!" Mr. Priest nodded with a grin. "Pray tell, the heavens pulled a funny prank to align your stars at a police station!" Mr. Priest clapped.
"Young love, always true and brave," Mr. Mills sniffed inside a satin handkerchief.
"Why this must be—"
"—Destiny!"
Mr. Priest began and Mr. Mills joined in synchronized exclamation.
Wow, creepy.
This tangent needs to be erased immediately from my circle of life.
This is weird and unfair and holy skittles— what if they find out?! Will my sentence be extended for lying to a priest inside a police station?!
"I, uhm, no, I'm actually—"
"Do you even know her name? There is no way you are engaged to someone. Your records show that you haven't been inside the borders of Brickery County for eleven years," Mr. Jacobs cut in like a sharp gust of cold wind. His brown eyes glared at me in petty revenge.
Well damn. Now what?! Damn this flippin fuck for lying.
"She is Niagara Falls Rivers, lives around the backwaters of Retrica. Twenty one years in age, design major and a failing chemistry minor at the University of Brickrell."
No-fucking-way.
I HAVE A STALKER?!
"Niagra Falls Rivers?!"
"Falls Rivers?"
"Niagara, okay, oh- found you! You're the one Lady Collins sponsors, I see."
Mr. Jacobs, Mr. Priest, Mr. Mills and I drove off to different tangents of thoughts.
I pulled my hand away from Aslan's warm grip and stared at his smirking face in exasperation. Why does he know so much? How does he knows so much? What else does he know?!
"Ah, she also part-times at a local sex-toy shop called Secret. It pays her diner bills," Aslan added with a charismatic laugh and I inched farther away from him.
Beautiful or not, what is this creepy sod onto?!
Who is this creepy sod?!
Am I the secret daughter of some rich merchant?!
Is he my brother?! Well that would be sad—
Has he come to get me?!
Is this my protagonist moment?!