The door opened quickly and violently, as if someone was breaking in, but Maddie knew otherwise. Brandon stumbled in, hiccupping as he went, closing the door behind him, fiddling with the keys in his hand before sighing angrily and waving at the door, as if the air would lock it for him. Drunkenly, he turned, swaying heavily, his arms swinging around him like vines around a tree. As their eyes met he stopped, in his drunken state assuming she hadn’t seen him. Her glare was fixed and arms folded. She was wearing what she did every night, a long grey nightie, one she had worn since their wedding, ‘easy access’ she had called it. But now her face wasn’t the same as that night, it was stern and furious with flared nostrils and wide eyes.
“Where have you been?” Maddie demanded, quoting almost every wife whose husband had come home inexplicably drunk.
“Out,” Brandon said quickly, trying his best to hide his slurs.
“Where?” she demanded again. He huffed at her.
“Out,” he repeated. This time, she huffed at him, taking a step closer. Now, Brandon could see the fury in her blue eyes and her withdrawn tongue as she held back her shouts.
“You better have a bloody good reason,” she seething, breathing heavily through her teeth. Brendon huffed at her again, pushing aside her anger clearly written across her face.
“Did you miss me?” he teased, still swaying, his arms dangerously close to the framed pictures on the table beside him. Maddie recoiled slightly, her anger slowly fading into sorrow, tears building in her eyes. She bit her lip and sucked in cool air before looking back at him.
“Yes, I did,” she said. Brandon jolted back slightly at the sincere, contained answer, swinging himself steady again. “Because while you were off galivanting around town with your friends, I was here, tucking our daughter into bed. And as I am doing that, my phone rings. I have to stop saying goodnight to her to answer it. It was from my father…” she hesitated, breathing in sharply again but her eyes never left his. “My mother died.” She finished. Even through his drunken vision, Brendon could see Maddie’s eyes well up again, more tears falling down her face. He brought a hand forward to pull her closer but she stepped back, lightly pushing his hand to the side and he let it fall, confusion spreading across his face. She took in another deep breath. “This is how it’s been since the beginning. You go out, get drunk, come home late and I'm already asleep and I find you passed out on the sofa. Thought it was funny and cute to begin with, but then it got boring and annoying. But then, you stopped, cleaned up your act, but, since last week, you’ve been sneaking out to drink, leaving me alone. And not only that, but alone with your infant daughter.” Once she had finished, Brendon had started to cry, the warm tears gently falling down his face, creating a river as they meandered down where the wrinkles of smiles used to form.
“Maddie, I,” he started.
“No,” she interjected, her voice stern again. “I have lost my mother, your daughter has lost her grandmother, a woman she will never remember. I lost someone and the only person I could talk to was our daughter, who was confused about why I was crying in the first place! I don’t want her Christmas ruined with the memory of her grandmother’s death! And you weren’t here for me, or for her. I don’t feel like I can rely on you anymore.” Brendon opened his mouth but she barged past him, heading for the stairs.
“Maddie, please I’m…” he tried, but she didn’t turn. As she reached the stairs she stopped, her back still to him.
“I'm taking Rachel to my brother’s tomorrow,” she said after a moment, her voice warbled with tears, holding back the urge to run to him. “We can talk more after that.” With no further words, and ignoring Brendon’s wails and desperate calls, Maddie walked up the stairs and to their bedroom, where she didn’t sleep.
Day 1
Closed Eyes
Closed Eyes
Deafening
Deafening
Closed Eyes
Day 15
E s t 2 0 2 0
Chapter 3: Suspicious Suspects
You release a heavy sigh as you realise the obvious choice. There’s no point in accusing or arresting anyone if you don’t have all the details right.
​
“Never mind,” you say. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” Wishwell nods and walks away, you following behind.
Together, you enter the Evidence Room, a place where Wishwell’s most recent cases are stored, and solved. You see a few ongoing ones on the walls, but your eyes are pulled to the middle of the room and the table that sits there. On it were several pictures of the crime scene and body, as well as the documents and evidence. All of the fingerprint work had been done and the reports were laid out carefully. All you have to do now is solve it.
“So,” Wishwell sighed. “Where do we start.” You open your mouth to say something, but your eye is caught on one image of the victim’s hand. He was holding something. “Bell?” Wishwell asks.
You pick the image up. “What’s this?” you ask, pointing at it.
Wishwell squints at it and shrugs. “That?” He turns and starts rummaging through a pile of packaged evidence. “You mean this?” He hands you an evidence bag that contains a single sheet of paper. It had been flattened out from its crumbled state and soaked in blood, but the words were easy to make out.
“Class roster?” you read, taking it from the inspector’s hand.
“Yeah, it was in his hand when we found the body. Ernie had to practically break his fingers off to get it out.”
You study the paper intently, your eyes finally landing on a name underlined with green ink.
“Jack Rune,” you say. You look at Wishwell. “Ring a bell?”
“Isn’t the name of a staff member,” he says to you. “Should it?”
“His name is underlined here.” You show him the paper. “Odd, right?”
Wishwell squints further and shrugs. “A kids name?”
You smile and nod, setting the paper down. “Well, I think we need to talk to him.”