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I calm down slightly as I realize that whoever tried to break in has left. Who was it? A student looking to steal valuables? I haven’t checked yet, but it doesn’t look like much is missing. Nothing valuable, at least.
I walk towards the hallway and then stop abruptly. On the wall of the living room, the one I couldn’t see from the entrance, is written something big, in bright red.
Killer
My breath stops. This has nothing to do with a student, it has everything to do with my past. The person who came into my house and wrote that note knows exactly what I did. He or she knows that I killed Joe Nelson.
41. Confession
Iris
With my arms folded tightly across my chest, I watch the police officer write something down in his white notebook. He and his colleague arrived just five minutes ago. While one of them goes around the rooms, the other is with my little sister on the living room couch. I called them after I went to get Agnes in the badly lit hallway. I thought that their presence would reassure me, but the truth is that I am still afraid. For myself and for my sister.
“The front door was not forced open. None of your stuff was stolen,” the police officer repeats, giving me a stern look. “So apparently it’s not a robbery.”
I clench my arms a little tighter, as if to protect myself, swallowing my saliva with difficulty. Of course it’s not a robbery. And knowing that the door wasn’t forced open gives me the creeps even more. The lock has definitely been picked. My brain imagines a thousand and one theories that don’t reassure me at all. I let myself go for a few moments, knowing that I should look serene when I meet Agnes in the living room.
I should put her on the first plane. But I had barely suggested this idea a few minutes earlier when she was already bursting into tears and clinging to my waist. I…I don’t know what to do. I probably won’t be able to protect her properly.
“We need to talk about the word that was written on the wall of your apartment,” the cop says, approaching me with a reassuring look.
I stare into his blue eyes, his little gray mustache. I can see that he would like to do something for me, to help me.
“Killer.”The word loops around in my mind.
I sit down at the end of my bed, take a deep breath, and begin to explain to him what happened last year, from the escaped prisoner’s break-in at my parents’ house to the dropping of the charges against me for self-defense. As the minutes pass, the cop’s expression becomes more serious. He listens to my monologue, jotting down information in his notebook. When I’m done, I fiddle with my fingers and raise my face to him.
“This person who came in tonight…it wasn’t a mistake. It’s not a coincidence. This person managed to get on campus and he knew Joe Nelson.”
“Could it be a prank that students play on each other?” The cop asks me.
“No, of course not.”
He looks skeptical. I know for a fact that once we get to the police station, he’ll check the information I just gave him, just in case I’m a common liar.
“Maybe the person who broke into my house is someone close to Joe Nelson,” I say. “Someone who would like to avenge his death.”
I thought that all this was behind me. My little sister calls me, and I know she must have dozens of questions.
“We’ll investigate,” the agent continues. “I’ll probably call you back and ask you to come to the police station. Tonight, a patrol will be on duty. You don’t have to worry, everything will be fine. Is there anything else you can think of that might be important?”
I rack my brains for a few minutes. “A few weeks ago, I received a call from an unknown number. There was no one on the other end, just breathing. Maybe it was just a prank call but…I can’t think of anything else.”
“I’m writing this down,” the cop tells me.
“Iris!” a male voice shouts through the walls.
I almost jump as I recognize the husky tone. Damn it, Tucker.
The cop suddenly stands up, looking around.
“It’s all right,” I hurriedly say as I walk to the entrance of my apartment.
Agnes is standing by the couch, her eyes squinting at the front door, the second cop beside her. I follow their gaze and fall on Tucker’s. He looks crazed, a vein pulsing on his forehead. His eyes quickly scan my body before his jaw clenches a little more.
“What are you doing here?” I begin, approaching him.
His shoulders tense a little more when he sees the two cops. He clenches his fists but, instead of answering me, almost throws himself on me and kisses me hard, his fingers plunging into my hair. His breath mixes with mine before he abruptly backs away. I don’t know why I want to feel him against me again, as if his presence reassured me, as if he was a kind of impenetrable cocoon that would protect me.
