Murdered With Love

3. deja vu

A groan escapes my lips as I throw myself in my mom's car.

"Had a good day, sweety?" She asks as she applies her cherry red lipstick on her lips, looking in the car mirror.

Whenever I look at my mom, I can never really see the resemblance between us. My mom is hot. Dark curly brown hair, green eyes, an oval shaped face with a light tanned skin. She has a tiny waist and big hips, a strong jawline, and beautiful long lashes.

I can't help but feel jealous when I look at my mom. I want to look like her, I want to be her.

Why do I have to look like my dad? Blond hair, tall, broad shoulders, big eyes, and freckles. The only thing my mom and I have in common is our wavy hair. But maybe I could've also inherited that from my dad. I don't know.

"It was fine." I mutter as I stare at her.

Her bracelet makes noise as she puts her lipstick back in her bag. "Good to hear." She's wearing her work outfit: a dark blue shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Her three inches high heels make the outfit look more elegant than it's supposed to be.

She starts the car and we drive away. On the radio there's music playing but I don't pay any attention to it.

"What's the case about?" I ask after ten minutes of silence.

The more I spend time with my mom, the more I realize that I don't look like my mom. I can't relate to her, and she can't relate to me. We're totally the opposite. Everything I like, she hates, and the other way around.

The only thing we both like is solving things such as: murderers or math equations.

"It's a very old case." She tells me, eyes on the road. "It's from almost eighteen years ago." Her face turns red when she talks about it. "It just seems like there's no possible way to solve it."

I frown. "What do you mean? Didn't they leave fingerprints or something or...?"

"That's the thing!" I can hear the frustration in her voice. "There are only two suspects. The girls' boyfriend and the girls' best friend."

"How in the world is that possible?" I ask.

My mom sighs. "The girl stopped at a gas station because her best friend went to the toilet. She was killed fifteen minutes after that. The security cameras are too blurry to see anything happening, and the place from where the bullet came from was exactly in the place where her best friend and her boyfriend stood." She explains.

I think about it wondering if I had heard this before. It was too familiar. Had this been on the news? "I would suspect the boyfriend." I say with a shrug.

My mother shakes her head and bites her lip. "I don't know..." she says.

"What's wrong? Why not? It's a man. They're always aggressive." I say with a chuckle.

"Well," my mom says. "The boyfriend tried to kill himself." She almost whispers.

"What?" I ask.

"He tried to kill himself three days after her death. He had cut his pulses and was sent to the IR. The boy had been in a coma for the next three months after that. It's unlikely that it's him since he's still taken care of with special help." My mother explains.

I stay silent. Never had I heard a case like this. I shrug. "Then it's the best friend." I say.

My mom nods, her focus on the road. "She's our main suspect. Just quite recently, she has been found under Mafia property."

My eyes widen, and I stay quiet. My brain is working overtime, as I think. Never have I felt so drawn to  a case like this. Suddenly, I remember something. "Maya," I whisper.