White Silk

For as long as I could remember, I have always been compared to a therapist or social worker. Like a female ‘Dr. Phil’, I was always there for people even if I disliked them. Any type of situation- drugs, relationships, etcetera- I was there for any person. I was one of people who were good at listening and giving advice, and even though my friends highly suggested I go into psychology, I went onto being a cop. I liked action and I got sick of listening to people cry after a while.
  However, I worked a night shift tonight. Those could be very boring and have absolutely no action what so ever. But that was the farthest thing from my mind right now.
  “Lilly, I can’t take it anymore,” my best friend Sophie sobbed (if not shouted) through the phone.
  “Sophie, you need to get out of there now. I’ve seen what happens in these cases and I want you to know that it’s not worth it.”
  I could hear the swish of silk fabric sliding. It was obvious she was trying to hold in her tears with every passing second. For a few moments, her muffed sobs were the only sounds that came from between our phone line.
  “It hurts,” she choked, “he hit me hard this time because he said I deserved it.”
  Because I had a very unpredictable life, you would think that I wouldn’t be shocked that yet another one of my friends was battling another crisis. It was a daily thing because most of my friends lived in the outskirts of the ghetto.
  Sophie was always the rock in the rock, never breaking and always staying strong in situations. So the unfortunate event of her confession to let out almost left me in tears. She had told me in the previous 5 minutes about how her boyfriend had been abusing her. And to make matters worse, it had been happening for weeks.
  “Sophie, you need to believe me when I say that you didn’t deserve what he did to you. It would be a good idea to just leave while he’s out and stay with me.”
  I felt sort of split on giving her advice. I was a cop, so why not just arrest him and get it over with? I had a foreboding idea that Sophie would be mad that I’d even say that because she had just given me a speech about how much her boyfriend and she were in love. I rolled my eyes. You can’t love someone when you’re putting them through pain.
  “It’s almost 8 o’clock, Lilly,” her tranquil but sudden change of tone was keeping me in suspicion; especially since she kept trying to change the subject.
  “I’m calling you tomorrow,” I warned her. “If he does it again tonight, the key to my house will be underneath my doormat.”
  I could feel her half-smile over the phone.
  “Good bye,” she said faintly. Before I could even say my own good-bye, I heard a pause than a door whoosh open. Then the line went dead. Her phone always did have bad service, especially when it’s raining like it was tonight. But the door effect was something else. I didn’t hear a male voice or footsteps, and the echo on the phone made it sound like she had been talking to me in the bathroom. I made a mental note to myself to call as soon as I got home and instead of waiting. Or possibly, using the element of surprise (which was paying Sophie and Justin a visit).
  As soon as I got in the station, I was bombarded with the chaos of having to calm down several fugitives. After that, I was more than happy to have the calming atmosphere of driving at midnight with my partner, Gabe.
  “Gabe, how long have you been up?” I asked him in an irritated manner. Every time I looked over at him he was either sleeping or staring out through the window. It was pretty funny at first. He would sleep for a few minutes, then realize what he was doing and shoot his head up, looking he was a deer in headlights.
  “I haven’t gotten sleep in a day, I’m sorry,” his tone was sappy enough for me to buy it. This was the second week since we were assigned to be partners, but it felt like more. We both agreed that we felt like old college buddies. “What’s going on? What are we doing right now?”
  “You were supposed to be listening. Radio the station back and ask for the address again. Someone just reported a missing person.”
  “Sorry, Boss,” he yawned and went straight to do as he was told. He called me boss because I was always the leader between the two of us.
  The radio beeped, and on came the lady’s obnoxious voice. We were supposed to drive to 6296 Palmer Drive. The address was familiar to me, so I knew that we had a good five minutes until we got to the right neighborhood.
  “Five minutes? I’m going to sleep. Is that alright with you?” Gabe asked, almost laughing. I rolled my eyes and continued to speed down the road.
* * *
  “What’s wrong? You look like you just saw someone be run over by a car,” Gabe commented, laughing at his bad ability to make up similes. As we stood outside, waiting for someone to answer, I could only think negative.
  “This is my friend’s house,” I mumbled, just in case the jerk inside would hear, “my best friend’s house.”
  Gabe frowned and Justin opened the door.
  “Please, come in,” his fake, sympathetic voice wasn’t fooling me. He had done something to Sophie, probably more terrible than what I could imagine. As he looked over me, there was not a change in facial expression because he didn’t know me. Sophie must have never brought me up.
  “Gabe, here,” I pointed, “is going to ask you some questions. I’m going to look around for clues if that’s all right with you.”
  He was smart not to say no to a cop. I felt his eyes zero in on my gun with fear as I went to the bedroom with my white detective gloves. Good, I thought, he should be afraid of me.
  I was disappointed to find nothing wrong in Sophie’s bedroom. I went through the kitchen and the guest bedroom with the same fruitless results. I was just getting the feeling of hopelessness until I entered the bathroom. On the sink, there was a rip of silk fabric on the faucet. I could imagine her talking to me on the phone in her silk pajamas, weeping and coming clean with everything. But if she was sitting on the vanity, then she must have had to come down, right?
  As I looked on the floor, I saw a tiny drop of red. Blood, of course, from the deep hue and thickness.
  I resorted to the only thing I hadn’t investigated yet: the shower. But, it was untouched except for three more drops of blood.
  Then I looked over to examine any final specs of the room that I might have missed. I could hear the brewing rainstorm, which wasn’t normal for a bathroom. To my right, I saw that the window was open. Another piece of silk was hanging from a sharp corner of the blinds, having the pride of a waving flag.