Lenore almost had everything she wanted.
In just a few short months, she'd graduate early from high school, start an internship at her father's new startup in San Francisco, and then head off to college in the fall on a full scholarship. Everything...
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Lenore wasn't sure how she made it into the living room. The last thing she remembered was her legs going numb and rubbery and then giving out. Now Fiona and Delilah had her by the arms and were helping her towards the couch.
"No," Lenore said, jerking back. "Not the couch."
"Huh?" Delilah asked. "Why not?"
Lenore didn't answer. Instead, she pulled away from them and staggered over to the armchair on the far side of the room, away from the windows. She didn't want to watch as the cops pulled in, though she could already see their flashing lights reflecting off the glass.
Once Lenore was seated, Delilah went back to help her mother. Fiona perched on the arm of the couch, wary of it but unsure of why.
"Why don't you like the couch?" Fiona asked.
Lenore just shook her head. She didn't want to get into it, not when Fiona was being so nice. She didn't want to have to explain that she hated sitting on the couch because that was the exact same spot her grandmother's body had been laid out.
A knock came at the door and echoed through the house. Fiona leapt up from her spot and went to hover by the chair's side.
Lenore didn't move but listened hard.
The front door creaked open.
"Hello Amelia," greeted an unfamiliar voice.
"What do you want?" her mother snapped.
"I need to speak with your daughter." Judging by the voice, it was not the same officer who'd wanted to question her in the hall.
"You have some nerve coming here," her mother replied.
"I'm just doing my job," the stranger said.
"She has nothing to do with this. She was here all night, with me."
"I hope that's true, I genuinely do," he said. "But I have other accounts that suggest that she was the last person to see him before his walk home."
"According to who?" her mother shot back.
"His mom, and his friend," he said, emphasising the final word in a strange, almost joking tone. "I believe you've met at least one of them."
Her mother scoffed. "I don't want you harassing my daughter."
"I won't, I promise," he said. "Like I said, I just want to talk to her, ask her some questions. That's all. And we both know it'll look a lot better if she cooperates right off the bat."
There was a beat of silence like her mother was considering it.
"Fine," she said at last. "But I don't want you to ask her anything about my sister."
"I doubt she'll come up. Besides, you know that I'm not involved with that investigation," the man said, "for obvious reasons."
"All the more reason for you to stay on topic," her mother said. "But, be warned—if you say anything that even rhymes with my sister's name, you're out of here and you can talk to my daughter through my lawyer."
