The Last of Us

Twenty-Eight

I'm made to sit on the steps of the church. Three police cars have their lights on, blinking blue and red. They're pulled up at the curb, talking to each other in hushed tones.

Chaplin is standing above me to my right. He stares down at me, thinking.

I don't know if they believe me, but I feel too numb to care. He slipped through my grasp. Everything is moving around me, but I'm stuck in slow motion.

The funeral ended a while ago. I'd received plenty of funny looks from those pouring through the double doors. It was as though they had thought I'd been the one to interrupt the proceedings. Technically, I had.

"So, brown hair and a jumper?"

My description could have been better. A lot better, honestly.

I'd been so focused on catching up to him that I hadn't focused on enough detail to describe him. I didn't get a clear look at his face. Everything is already beginning to blur together. I don't have much to give to the police, and it's frustrating to see Chaplin frowning.

I'd been so close. I know that he has to be involved but then...Danni? What's her involvement?

Am I just going crazy?

I can feel the build-up of tension pushing against my skull as I rub my thumb and pointer finger against the pain.

I want this all to end. I need it to end.

The worst part is not being able to see the destination ahead, let alone the road that needs to be taken.

Someone calls out to Chaplin, and he excuses himself for a moment. I watch him walk away as he goes to speak to another officer about something.

The crowd had quickly dispersed earlier when they'd noticed the police cars. No one from the funeral remains. Claudine, Paige and Katie had all wanted to come and speak with me, but they'd been ushered away fairly quickly.

When Chaplin returns, I can't seem to look him in the eye. Instead, I stare at the black boots. The leather has been scuffed from wear. His laces are beginning to fray too.

"We've finished up here, Harlow. Did you want a lift home?"

I stare at my hands. "No, I drove myself here."

"Alright," he clears his throat. "Is there anything else you need to add?"

"No," I shake my head. "That's all."

I look up as he nods, beginning to walk away. "Alright, well. We'll be in touch."

As he begins to walk off, I think of a question I want to ask him.

"Chaplin," I say.

He stops, turning to face me.

"Have you looked into Dannielle Sullivan yet?"

Before he even speaks, I can see that he hasn't. I guess it means I will be taking matters into my own hands.

------------------------------------

I follow Danni home after our next session.

Honestly, I'm surprised she'd shown up at all. After she'd run out like the room was on fire last night, it's a wonder she wasn't nervous about showing her face.

I noticed her bag was missing at today's session. Either she feared a repeat of last time, or Chaplin has taken up his word and 'looked into it'. I doubt the latter after speaking to him at the funeral.

It had been a week since I heard from Chaplin. There had been no update on Randall. Police still patrolled my house day and night, but they merely offered me the slightest wave as I left each day.

Danni parks her car in a driveway of a one-story brick house. I keep my distance a few blocks, peering at her through my windscreen.

She appears calm at first as she appears from the car, suddenly shouldering a bag that hadn't appeared in today's meeting.

She seems to play around with something inside her car for a while, and I wonder if it's better to approach her now and startle her entirely or whether I wait until she's inside and knock.

I watch her behaviour. She keeps looking over her shoulder, and I worry if she knows I'm watching. She isn't looking in my direction, though. It's as though she's looking everywhere.

If I was parked closer, I'm sure I'd be able to see her expression better. From here, though, it looks like she's concerned about something.

She fixes the strap of her bag as she finally shuts the car door and hurries towards her front door. She continues to look over her shoulder every few seconds.

What could she be so anxious about all of a sudden? Does she think the police are onto her about whatever she's up to?

As she reaches her front door, she fishes around in her pockets before pulling out a set of keys. As she goes to put it in the lock, she stops.

I frown, leaning closer to the passenger window as I try to work out what she's doing now.

She's pulled out her phone. Even from here, I can see her hand shaking. She focuses on the screen for a moment before she looks behind her again.

She drops the bag by the side of the door, running down the steps away from her front door.

In a flash, a car speeds past me from across the road. My heart begins to beat rapidly as I recognise the vehicle.

It's the car I saw the man get into at the funeral.

What the hell is going on?

Danni runs down the driveway, shouting at the car. I can see the sudden anger radiating at her as she tries to catch the car driving away.

It leaves her standing only metres from me, and I try to duck down as much as possible. My chest is awkwardly poking into the steering wheel, and I realise as I adjust myself what a grave error I've just made.

My car horn blares.

Danni jumps back in shock but recovers quicker than I like. I don't even have time to turn the engine on before she's stalking me.

I see the exact moment she recognises my car and then me. Her face morphs into something strange, a mix of fear and annoyance.

There is no way out of this now.