I slapped the coin on the back of my other hand, and saw the golden surface. Past, just like I wanted it to be.
A black-haired woman with a short ponytail bends over a file.
"Emilia Henrietta Devin." She mumbles, opening it.
She sees the time and place where the victim was found. In the middle of a street, in a district that was built anew. The street was renovated, and for that reason, it was closed up. The victim was discovered by the construction workers, who were already interviewed by the officers that were called. They were ruled out as suspects for now.
The victim had keys and a phone with her; both were sent into the lab, the keys having no DNA on them besides the victim's. The phone will need more time to be examined. Now, the search for the victim's identity was already going. Her face was unharmed, so she will be photographed and compared with the pictures in the data bank.
The coroner found the following: No proof of sexual assault. Death due to blunt trauma to the head or strangulation. The case was ruled as a homicide.
No other DNA was found on her body.
But her body was in a strange condition.
The woman grabs the picture the coroner had made and is stunned.
Coming back, I tried to act normal,
"Sorry, just low blood sugar."
Detective Norman nodded at me and let go, bringing me to a seat in the corridor where my caretaker waited and walked to a beverage machine.
I thought that Henrietta was dismembered, but that is not the entire truth. The skin of her legs, hand, and arm was still there from the wrist and ankle upwards. They were just in shreds. No bones, no muscles, no flesh; there was just shredded skin.
Can someone tell me what and how the hell someone could get such 'injuries'?
I now can only congratulate myself for not going back to the morgue to look at her body myself. It was already difficult to not vomit myself to death after only seeing that picture of her dead body; I gladly back out of seeing it in real life. But her face was also shown again. I had seen Henrietta's face while Henry identified her, but it isn't that easy to recognize someone like it was on TV.
There is a striking difference if the body is standing or lying, if the muscles are relaxed, stiff, not working, or if they are normally functioning. For that reason, I didn't even recognize her until Henry mentioned her name.
Now, I had an even better look at her, and I would say she looked like the fake Henrietta I saw in the pictures of her and me. Not my Henrietta, the skinny one with eye bags.
So, who the fuck was that in the morgue? I would say it is a fake corpse, but neither the detective nor the coroner appeared pretending to me. Besides, Henry identified her and seemed sure that it was his sister.
Fuck, what is going on?
"Are you alright?" Jacques, my caretaker, asked me.
"Not really." I answered, seeing the detective coming back with a sweet drink.
While taking it, I forced myself again to flip the coin, grazing her hand. I can't let go of any opportunity to look into the past or future. I am just in no position to do so.
I flipped the coin, slapping it on the back of my hand. The woman's eyes and ears and heart were uncovered, golden; past.
The woman with the short black ponytail sighed,
"Bring him in."
A young man with slightly longer hair and a mole under his eye walks in.
"You are the detective of the case?" He asked her, his voice sharp.
"I am." The woman remembers that he had come many times already, but because she couldn't tell him any news, she had the officers send him away.
"What is this? Kennith Howard is the murderer; what the fuck are you doing, letting him run around and having a blast?"
"It isn't that simple."
"Have you seen the pictures? Have you read the diary? SHE WAS SCARED OF HIM! HE HIT HER! HE WAS ABUSIVE TO HER! WHAT IS THERE TO CONTEMPLATE?"
"We are still analyzing the phone that was found with your sister. We don't intend to alarm him. For now, we are gathering evidence. I understand it is difficult-"
"What do you think you understand? I found him within a day, I watched him meeting his friends, drinking, partying, flirting! WHAT ABOUT THE NEXT VICTIM?" He yells, silencing the whole office, along with the corridor outside.
"I understand. Please don't get near him; we are on it. Don't try to take it in your own-"
I actively ripped myself out of the vision, having seen enough. Damn it, damn it.
The problem is, I can understand him; I would have acted the same way. What am I doing by hating him when he just does what is the most natural to do?
"Thank you." Taking the drink and opening it I took a few sips, feeling my stomach turning.
"The test results will be out in a week or so; I would ask you for a formal interview then, where we talk about everything." The detective's face had taken on a sterner note again; I knew that she thought I would fail the test.
"Yes, call me anytime." I nodded, not able to meet her eyes anymore. I feel like absolute crap right now.
But really, Henry, why have you brought me back to life? Aren't you regretting it already if you are so convinced of my guilt?
"Let's go." My caretaker said after a few minutes. The detective had said goodbye, but I couldn't even muster up to speak to her.
"Yeah." Standing up, we left the police bureaus in silence.
I waved my caretaker goodbye and got myself a taxi to the university Haruka was at. Walking over the campus, I found it really refreshing, with all the people around.
Why do I feel everything is slipping out of my hands now that I just stand at the beginning of my investigation?