Part Three: The Pursuit
The only thing that kept ringing in my ears was Benjamin Clay’s deep voice. It wasn’t like he had ever said anything nice or cool to make me notice the depth in his voice, but the way he said it when he implicated Lexie in the closed-door mystery made me tremble all over. It didn’t stop playing in my head, and it wasn’t ever going to stop until the end of the case.
I couldn’t stop thinking that the detectives hadn’t done their job right, or the police station was a mere joke. I mean, how could they have let Lexie slip out, and without a trace? It had been more than a week since Benjamin’s confession and she was still nowhere to be found. Apart from the fact that I wanted nothing better than to see her behind bars, I really needed to know why she was particularly after Agnes, because Benjamin’s confession didn’t provide us with the answers we needed.
In fact, after giving up Lexie’s name, Benjamin also told the detectives that personally, he had nothing against Agnes. He only owed Lexie a favor, and killing Agnes was what Lexie wanted him to do. He said he had tried talking her out of it, imploring her to change her mind but she was headstrong with her decision. So with Lexie still missing, it felt as if I was going to lose what was left of my mind.
Even in my grief, I was happy about one thing: Samuel wouldn’t be spending long hours on the phone anymore. But annoyingly, he was upset about losing Lexie, and was still finding it difficult to accept Benjamin’s confession. He didn’t even show the same level of grief when Agnes was being wheeled out on the stretcher. I remember he was glued to his phone with the killer the whole time when he should have been by his family’s side.
It was little wonder why she wanted him to listen carefully to what Detective Slaughter was saying about Agnes not committing suicide. And she probably came to the police station after she received his call to know how far they had gone with the investigation. But how she was able to escape from the viewing room still remained a wonder to all of us.
Anyway, we were on the dining table, quietly having dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time we sat together as a family. It was awkward. In fact, I think only Mom and Dad used the dining table. Samuel, Agnes and I always ate in our bedrooms, even against Mom’s wishes.
But on that particular evening, Mom insisted all four of us sit together. It was her hope to try to bring the family back together so that we would remain strong. She really believed that had we been closer in the first place, we probably would have all been doing something together, maybe having dinner, or watching a movie on the evening Agnes was taken from us. She was right, though. We should have spent more time together. I, personally, should have spent a lot of time with my other half so that she wouldn’t have spent all her free time locked up in the bathroom, talking, singing or acting with herself. The solitude she must have felt!
We said grace and were about to dig into our food when there was loud, continuous banging on the front door. Dad put his cutlery down and went to check who it was. He then yanked the door wide open as soon as he looked through the peephole, while the rest of us watched, eager to know who the impatient visitor was.
“Where the hell is Alexandra Smith?” Detective Slaughter asked, as he drove the door back to the wall and stepped into the house with Detective Pruitt following closely behind him.
“What’s all this about? You damn well know that I have no idea where she is!” Dad said, an apparent mix of confusion, reproach and anger gingered his tone. “And heaven forbids I find her first before you two do.” He darted his eyes back and forth at them.
“You don’t know where she is, but he does,” the detective pointed at Samuel with one hand, and attempted to approach him with his other hand curled up in a fist.
“Hey, hold it right there,” Dad said, trying to take charge of the situation. “That’s my son you are accusing. Back away from him and unroll that fist of yours.”
“Sam?” Mom called out in a shaky voice, almost breaking down. “What are the detectives talking about? Do you know where Alexandra is?”
“Of course not, Mom. These men are talking nonsense. I would never even speak to Lexie, let alone care where she is. Not after all that has happened.”
“Fat liar!” I spat out. I knew he was madly in love with Lexie, and there was absolutely no doubt in me that he would choose her over us, any day, any time.
“Shut the hell up!” he replied immediately, flashing me his dark, squinted eyes.
“No, you shut up!” I fired back at him, with my eyes also squinted.
He stood up, enraged. I also stood up. We maintained eye contact for a few seconds before I lowered my stare and looked at his muscles. He was deliberately moving them to frighten me. I surely couldn’t take him in a duel, but there were three men in the house who would readily take him in my place. Not to forget Mom, she would never sit and watch Samuel fight me.
“Why don’t you both shut up?” Detective Pruitt said, looking at the two of us. Then he fixed his gaze on Samuel and said, “Give me your cell phone.”
“And why the hell would I want to do that?” Samuel asked, looking at Detective Pruitt as if he had said something ridiculously stupid.
“So your parents, and your sister can see all the text messages you’ve been exchanging with your killer girlfriend.”
Samuel got agitated, and we could see lumps of sweat starting to trickle down his forehead. He began to panic, and before we could figure out what was going on with him, he took off, making his way for the front door. But Detective Pruitt’s reflexes were sharp. He took a few steps to the side, stretched out his arm and caught Samuel on the chest, sending him flying backward. Samuel fell atop the dining table, smashing into the plates.
“Now, you both have ruined dinner!” I yelled, making everyone turn to look at me.
Yes, I cared about dinner, not Detective Slaughter’s accusations, Detective Pruitt’s smack-down show or Samuel’s bruised back. If he had cooperated in the first place, Detective Pruitt wouldn’t have had to knock him down. And him dashing off like that obviously meant he had been in contact with Lexie, or at least knew where she was.
“I swear to you, I don’t know where Lexie is,” Samuel said to Detective Pruitt, as he tried to get back on his feet, touching the back of his aching head and wincing in pain.
“Give me your phone, now!” Detective Pruitt ordered.
I turned toward the front door and saw Detective Slaughter with his phone glued to one ear. I was distracted by what he was saying. He had received a phone call shortly before Detective Pruitt knocked Samuel down, and walked away to talk. I took interest in the words that were coming out of his mouth, even though I couldn’t really make any sense of the conversation.
“I don’t believe it ... What else? ... No way! ... Are you serious? ... Right now? ... Okay, I’ll check that out...”
“What was he talking about and what was the other person telling him to check out? What didn’t he believe and what was going on right now?” I asked myself. I then turned to Samuel. He had already given his phone to Detective Pruitt, who didn’t waste another second going through it, scrolling down slowly and looking at the screen with interest.
I turned back to Detective Slaughter. He had just thanked the person on the other end of the phone and hung up. He looked at his phone’s screen for a few seconds, then put the phone in his pocket and headed toward the hallway leading to our bedrooms.
“Where the hell is he going?” Samuel asked, shifting his worries from Detective Pruitt and his phone, to Detective Slaughter. No one answered him.
“Where the hell are you going?” he asked Detective Slaughter directly this time.
Detective Slaughter paid no attention to Samuel and kept moving before attempting to ask, “Which one’s Samuel’s bed—”
“Second to the left,” I replied, interrupting him before he could finish his question.
“You stupid brat!” Samuel yelled at me. He tried to run to the hallway and stop Detective Slaughter,
but Detective Pruitt held him back.
“Any reason why the door is locked?” Detective Slaughter asked, tugging at the doorknob.
“Yes, because it’s my bloody room...” Samuel shot out, “...which means stay the hell out.”
“You better open it now or I’ll break it down.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I will in three seconds,” Detective Slaughter replied before he started counting, “Three, —”
Samuel interrupted, yelling out the longest ‘no’ and ‘don’t’ I had ever heard followed by the words ‘door,’ ‘window’ and ‘grass.’ I wondered what he was talking about, and if the blow to his upper torso had made him delusional all of a sudden. And before I could get an answer to that, there was a loud bang. Detective Slaughter had kicked in Samuel’s door.
At the same time, Samuel made a run for the front door again, but Detective Pruitt ran after him immediately, tackling him to the ground. They scuffled raucously while Mom, Dad, and I stood there, shocked, gaping at the drama like zombies. With all the noise they were making, we weren’t able to hear what Detective Slaughter was saying to us. When Detective Pruitt had finally subdued Samuel, we were then able to hear Detective Slaughter clearly.
“Well, well, well. Look who I found trying to jump out of the window, onto the bed of grass under it, after attempting to barricade the door.”
“Holy heaven,” “You have got to be kidding me,” “My goodness,” Mom, Dad and I said at the same time when we saw Detective Slaughter walking out of the room, pushing Lexie in front of him, her hands secured behind her. Samuel’s eyes also weakened, revealing complete disappointment when he saw them coming out of the hallway.
“Door, window, grass? Seriously?” Detective Slaughter asked, as he approached the front door. He looked at Samuel and said, “That’s one hell of a code, boy. Never heard of run?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of run, thank you very much,” Samuel replied, as he tried to free himself from Detective Pruitt’s grip. He couldn’t. “Get off me, you beast!” he yelled, then turned back to Detective Slaughter. “Let Lexie go. She didn’t do anything. She told me she was innocent.”
“So why is she hiding?” Detective Pruitt asked, dragging Samuel to his feet. “Get up! You are under arrest!” he added, as he pulled out his handcuffs.
“What the hell for?” Samuel threw a confused look, then added, “Mom! Dad! Don’t let—”
“Shut up and keep walking!” Detective Pruitt interrupted and pushed him out of the house.
Mom, Dad and I suddenly jumped out of our zombie mode. Then Dad quickly grabbed his keys and headed toward the door. Mom ran into her room to get her purse, while I took a big piece of chicken, and we left for the police station, following the detectives’ patrol car.
We were back in the viewing room, again, and it was just Dad, Mom, and I in there. The detectives started the interrogation with Samuel. He was officially a suspect in the case, and also an accomplice for communicating with Lexie and hiding her under his bed for five whole days. It was too much for any of us to understand. Mom cried nonstop, and I was so tempted to shush her so that we could hear what the detectives were saying to Samuel. I didn’t have to eventually, because once Dad put her head on his shoulder, she started sobbing quietly.
“So why did you want your sister dead?” Detective Slaughter asked.
“Why would I want my sister dead?” Samuel asked, with a sarcastic look on his face.
“I believe I just asked you the same question, stupid. Why did you want her dead?”
“I’m not stupid, okay? I didn’t want my sister dead and I would never have wanted that.”
“And Alexandra Smith?”
“What about her?”
“You were hiding a killer in your house, under your bed. That makes you an accessory to murder. So you better start talking.”
“See, that’s where you got it all wrong. Lexie didn’t kill anybody. Benjamin did.”
“So you knew about the plan all along, didn’t you?”
“Of course not. Benjamin already confessed, and he clearly wanted to implicate someone.”
Detective Slaughter sighed. After five minutes of a seesaw interrogation, he knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of Samuel. Either Samuel was genuinely clueless, or he was hiding something. For the sake of love, and family peace, I hoped it was the former.
Detective Pruitt had been sitting there, watching Samuel quietly, not contributing anything to the interrogation. He then leaned toward Detective Slaughter and whispered something into his ear. Detective Slaughter nodded, then Detective Pruitt stood up and left the room. He then came into the viewing room where we were, and asked us to follow him.
“Is something wrong, Detective?” I asked, curiosity and fear in my voice. I hoped we hadn’t become suspects as well, because technically we were all in the same house with Lexie.
He didn’t answer. He stopped in front of a door, opened it, turned the light on, and told us to go in before he spoke. “My partner has taken Samuel to holding for now. We will interrogate Alexandra Smith instead to hear what she has to say.” He then left us and shut the door before we could even say anything.
As we turned around, Detective Slaughter was walking into the interrogation room where Lexie was waiting. Detective Pruitt joined him a few seconds later and the questioning began.
“You dragged your lover into killing his sister with you and Benjamin Clay? Why?”
“Don’t be silly! Sam had nothing to do with this,” she said, and sat back in the chair. “I only sent him a text the day after I ran away and swore that I was innocent. He didn’t believe me at first, but I was able to convince him after he allowed me go over to his house to talk to him.”
“And just like that, he let you stay with him? One of the main suspects in his sister’s case!”
Lexie looked down. “Well, what can I say? He believes I am innocent. Plus I also told him my family was trying to clear my name, so I needed some place to hide until then.”
“Okay, enough with the bullshit,” Detective Pruitt cut in. “Why did you want Agnes dead? And just so we are clear, you are going to prison one way or the other.”
“I didn’t do shit, okay?” Lexie yelled back. “Benjy slit Agnes’s wrist, not me!”
“But you asked him to do it because he owed you a favor. Why did you want her dead?”
One look into Detective Pruitt’s blood-red eyes, Lexie spat out, “That Agnes bitch! She was always acting quiet and holier than angels. She recorded me and umm...” She paused.
“Go on. She recorded you and umm what?”
“She recorded me and a guy doing... something in the front seat of his car. And—”
“You and Benjamin, you mean. What? Are you suddenly ashamed to say it as it is?”
“Fine, whatever, me and Benjamin. And she didn’t stop there. She shared the video with the world, made my life miserable and got me expelled! So you see why she had to pay for it.”
What Lexie said didn’t make any sense to me. She was clearly lying to the detectives. There was more to what she was saying. As far as I was concerned, she hadn’t told us the truth yet. There had to be some sort of connection with Agnes, but it had nothing to do with the video.
“Let me get this straight,” Detective Slaughter said. “So a video goes viral on social media, and the one person you thought was responsible for it is a quiet, shy, and anti-social girl?”
“Yes! At least I heard she was the total opposite before I made my decision.”
“Who told you she was the total opposite? How did you even know she shared the video?”
“Why don’t you throw all your questions to the person that uploaded the video instead?”
“And who might the person be?”
“Someone we call The Informant. Mary-Kate Pearson. She told me Agnes was the source.”
I shook my head when she said that, because I knew it couldn’t have been true. Mary-Kate knew I was
the source of the video, and not Agnes. And if the detectives had gone through her phone, they wouldn’t have found Agnes’s number in it. The only things I wondered were if Mary-Kate had set Agnes up or made a mistake, and why she would even give out her source.
“Let’s go, Pruitt. We are bringing Mary-Kate Pearson in. We will get to the bottom of this!” Detective Slaughter said, waking me out of my thought. Then they left the interrogation room, leaving us in the viewing room, staring at each other. And the wait for Mary-Kate began.
Closed Door Page 3
