Ella
I stared blankly at the door. I was still lost in thoughts as my mind wandered through the possibilities of what was about to happen. Then I heard my father's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Ella darling," my father said, "Are you going to open the door or not?"
I blinked, startled by his voice, and realized that I hadn't even opened the door yet. I tried to shake off the haze in my mind by standing straight.
Before I could open the latch, there was another knock It was firmer this time and I heard a man's voice from the other side of the door.
"Hello?" the voice said calmly, "Is anyone home?"
"Coming," I said trying to sound very calm too. My hand hovered over the latch and with a reluctant sigh, I unlocked it and pulled it slightly open so I could interact with them outside my father's view.
Standing in front of me were two people, a man who wore a tailored gray suit, and a woman in a dark blue blazer over a button-down shirt. They both had well-polished shoes and their dresses screamed cops.
"Good day, ma'am," the man started, "Is this the residence of Mr. Bill Anderson?"
"Who's asking?" I asked as I narrowed my eyes slightly trying to make myself seem less rattled than I felt. I didn't like people who came in hot with questions before any introduction.
"I'm Detective Wayne," the man said without flinching and pointing to the lady beside him, "And this is my partner, Detective Sinclair. We are with the local PD."
I folded my arms across my chest. "Can I see some IDs, please?" I asked. Detective Wayne's voice was calm as a professional.
Without hesitation, they both reached into their jackets and pulled out their badges, flipping them open for me to inspect. I looked hard at them briefly, pretending I knew what I was looking for, then nodded.
"Alright. So, what's this about?" I asked.
"You must be Ella," Detective Sinclair spoke for the first time. Her voice was clear and authoritative. "We received some information regarding an insurance claim linked to your family. We are here to ask a few questions, get some more details for our investigation and I'm sure we'd be out of your hair in a few minutes."
I was about to respond when I heard my father's voice from the living room.
"Who's at the door, Ella?" my father asked. He sounded more annoyed than concerned.
"It's the cops," I said as I turned my head and called back.
That got his attention and I could hear him shift in his armchair before his voice came again. "The cops?" he asked rhetorically, "What do they want?"
"Good day, Mr. Anderson," Detective Sinclair called out, "We are here about the insurance claim for your Pontiac."
There was a pause and then my father spoke softly. This time, his words were laced with sarcasm. "That was quick," my father quipped.
Detective Wayne smiled faintly when he heard the comment. "Mind if we come in?" he said, "This would take but a moment."
"Of course," my father said with a grunt, "I have nothing to hide."
I stepped aside, pulling the door open wider as the detectives walked in. My father was in his usual spot, slouched in that old, beat-up armchair he refused to get rid of. His eyes flicked between the two detectives, a mix of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite pin down.
"Make yourselves comfortable," he said, his tone casual, but the look in his eyes made it clear he didn't really care if they did or not.
The detectives glanced at the mismatched furniture and chose to stand by the window, arms crossed.
"We'll stand, thank you," Detective Wayne said with a polite nod, "We won't take much of your time."
"I'd be damned if I was told the police would come so quickly to my aid," my father muttered as he studied the detectives, "What do you want to know?"
Detective Sinclair went straight to the point. "We'd like to know the last time you filed for insurance."
My father turned to me. "Please grab me a glass of water, Ella." He said, turning to the detectives, "You guys need anything?"
Detective Wayne shook his head politely, "We're good. Thank you," he said.
As I moved toward my parent's room, my father leaned back in his armchair with a sly grin and asked, "How long have you two worked as detectives?"
"This is my third year," Detective Sinclair said, "Wayne has been in a detective a little longer."
"That's remarkable," my father said, "That makes him the senior here, right?"
"If you could put it that way," Detective Sinclair replied.
"That's good to know," my father said as his voice faded away, "You know, I wasn't expecting the police to be involved in insurance claims. I thought this was more of the insurance company's job?"
The voices behind me grew faint as I made my way down the hallway. Surely, there was something off about this claim when the police showed up instead of insurance investigators. 'Was that normal?' I asked myself.
My mind drifted to Mr. Kingston. Was he the one pulling the strings here? Was the police just here to rattle us?
I found the documents in no time but stood there staring at them. I couldn't help but wonder what I'd gotten my dad and myself into. Maybe I could come clean to Mr. Kingston that I didn't have anything that could hurt his company, maybe he'd leave us alone.
"Ella!" my father called out, "Have you found the documents?"
"Yes Dad," I said, snapping back to reality, "I'd be right there."
I walked into the kitchen and quickly fetched a glass of water for my dad. When I reentered the room, all eyes turned to me, and for a split second, I was hazy.
I passed the glass of water to my father, who took it with a slight nod before motioning me to hand the documents to Detective Wayne. The detective's gaze was especially intense like he was waiting for me to bolt or something.
"What's going on?" I asked Detective Wayne as I handed the document to him. The unease in my stomach was growing.
Before my father could answer, Detective Wayne interrupted him. "We need to clarify some things first, Ella," he said as I still held on to the document, "You were the one driving the car that day. Is that correct?"
"Yes, I was," I said.
"That means you're the one who called the insurance company," she asked.
"Is that even a question?" I retorted.
"Just answer truthfully, Ella," my father said calmly.
"Of course," I said, "Mr. Kingston told me to call his insurance company." The detectives exchanged a brief look and nodded. I chipped in, "I was in his office today to plead with him…"
"It's fine, Ella," Detective Sinclair said, "That's all for now. But we'd like you to come down to the station and fill out some paperwork. It'll take a few minutes and then you can be on your way."
"Am I under arrest?" I asked.
"Of course not," Detective Wayne said, "But we would give you a lift. It will save you the trouble."
I glanced at my father who chuckled. "That's the price you pay for being honest and truthful, girl," my father said. "Now you're getting a personal police escort into town. Christmas came early for you, Ella."
"That's not funny, Dad," I said with furrowed brows.
"Go with them," my father said, "It won't take long. Besides you have to be at work soon, right?"
I hesitated. My father was right and I was confident he won't lead me astray.
"Fine," I said, "I'll go."
I grabbed my bag from the table as the detectives held the door open for me. I knew this was more than just filling out paperwork at the station.
I had to use this situation to my advantage if not, it won't be only my father's Pontiac that would be lost.