Page 29 of Intolerable Bishop

Blake linked our fingers together and squeezed my hand. “It’s not stupid. There’s a lot of emotion behind what happened with your mom. If you want to come back another day, we can.”

“No, I can do this. Ivy, do you mind staying here while Blake comes with me?”

“Sure, whatever you need, girl.”

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door. Blake hopped out of the driver’s side and took my hand again. I’d never spent any time in a police station, and as silly as it was, I kind of expected what I saw on television with the people sitting around in handcuffs and other people being wrestled to the ground while phones were constantly ringing. What I hadn’t been expecting was for it to be quiet with someone filling out a form while an older woman in plain clothes waved us forward.

“How can I help you today,” she asked through the thick glass.

“I was hoping to talk to an officer working my mum’s case,” I said. I looked at the person minding their own business, and even though they probably didn’t care about what I had going on, saying it out loud in here still didn’t sit well. “My house was broken into, and we were attacked,” I added.

“Do you know what officer you want to speak to?” I shook my head no. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you have an occurrence number?” I shook my head again. “Okay, this is what I need you to do....” She slid a piece of paper and pen out to me through the metal tray. “Put your name, date of birth, and all of your mum’s information, including the date of the occurrence. I’ll see if there is an officer who can speak to you.”

“Thank you.” I quickly scribbled down what she asked for and slipped it back to her.

“I’ll be right back.”

Blake guided me to one of the empty chairs, and I could feel myself zoning out as I stared at the tall green plant in the corner. How would I feel if they said they caught the guys, and my dad never mentioned it? Or what if they hadn’t found them yet and every person that I walked past on the street was a potential threat?

“Hey, no matter what happens, it’s going to be okay,” Blake said, his eyes filled with so much warmth that it helped calm my anxiousness.

The metal door opened. A man, who I could only presume was a detective, stood there in dress pants and shirt. The badge and gun at his hip were the only signs that he was an officer.

“Ms. Davies, you can follow me.”

“Do you want me to stay,” Blake asked as I stood.

“No, come with me.” I tried to silently tell him that I might need him to remember things if I lost it in there.

“Okay.”

I followed the officer as he signed us in, gave us visitor badges, and then guided us to a room with a sign on the door saying Soft Interview. Did that mean there was a hard interview? And what was the difference? More importantly, did I want to know?

“Ms. Davies, please have a seat, my name is Detective Conway.” He looked to Blake. “Your name is?”

“I’m Blake. I’m just a friend here for moral support,” Blake said, shaking the detective’s hand.

Once we had sat down, the detective gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher. “So, you’re Mrs. Davies’s daughter?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I don’t remember interviewing you after the incident.”

“I don’t remember much from that night. I passed out, and when I came to, I was in the sitting room with my aunt. My father took care of talking to the police. The flashing lights and the strangers walking around my home are what I remember most, other than the attack itself. I started a new school away from here, and my father hasn’t mentioned any progress, which is why I’m here. I don’t know if he doesn’t know or thinks I can’t handle it, but I need answers.”

He placed his laced fingers on the table. “I’m sorry, what attack?” He flipped through pages in a small notepad. “Your father said this was a robbery and listed off some jewelry, money, and documents stolen. There was nothing about an attack. It says here that the EMTs found your mother, but the coroner ruled it as a natural death. She had a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, what?” He could’ve slapped me, and it wouldn’t have shocked me more.

He flipped a page. “We found the jewelry at a pawn shop, but we may never find the rest, so for now, the case is closed.” He opened a box by his feet and pulled out a clear bag labeled evidence. I bit my lip as he handed over what had been in my mother’s jewelry box. “I thought this is what you were coming to claim. We’ve left messages for Mr. Davies, but he hasn’t returned our calls.” He pushed over a piece of paper that listed what was in the bag. “If you want this, you’ll have to show me your ID and sign for the items.”

My brain was reeling as I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet. Showing him my driver’s license, he nodded and made a note before handing me the pen. I scribbled my name across the bottom of the sheet and picked up the bag, staring at the contents. Only one caught my eye. I pulled out the ring with my birthstone. She always wore it, and my bottom lip trembled as I undid my necklace and added it to the growing collection.

“I’ve got it,” Blake offered as I tried to do it up and failed with my shaking fingers.

“Thanks.” I placed the rest of the bag in my purse and looked up at the detective, who seemed to be analyzing me. Was that normal for them? Were they ever able to turn it off?

“So that’s it? You have nothing else to tell me?”