Extraterrestrial | #wattys2016

calamitous

Word of the day: Calamitous.  A situation that was supposed to go a certain way, but did not.

I really wish this next section was full of good news.  But instead, it is the opposite.  I knew I shouldn't have exposed myself outside of the office; reaching out to the world I only passed through.  I used the company phone and dialed 911.  I stated my emergency, which I don't think they believed at first, and then I waited for them with the documents in my hands -- ready to expose the murderer.

The police officers secured the crime scene, had everyone evacuate the premises, and then they filed in with flashlights, tape, and brown paper bags.  The investigators were not on their way, but I was told that a select few of police officers are trained on how to gather evidence.  I was not allowed to watch them, but I was interviewed by a female police officers, who asked basic questions about what I knew.  The officers had separated the co-workers apart so that none of us heard each others' story.

I turned in the documents, slightly proud at all I had gathered.  The officers didn't look at them quite yet, but I knew that when they did, they would come to the same conclusion: Mark was the suspect.

I don't like being touched, but they had to fingerprint all of us and collected the fibers from our clothing to see if we were on any of the scenes.  I thought it was a bit invasive, but I knew that if they wanted a full story, they needed my cooperation. 

Hours and hours passed, and we were never allowed to leave the scene.  It wasn't until one o'clock in the morning, I was alerted to finally contribute to the investigation.

"Mr. Johnson," a police officer called out.  He had a very concerned look on his face.  "Would you come with me?"

Blinking rapidly and then glancing over at the female officer, I walked over to the other officer, careful not to cross the scene.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you associate with Doug LeRoy?"  He showed me a black and white photograph of The Creepy Mn.

"Yes, sort of.  He invited me over to his house the other day for a party."

"Are you aware he is dead?  We found him in the boiler room."

Closing my eyes and inhaling sharply, I confessed honestly, "Yes.  A girl had to defend herself, and she killed him with a knife.  I helped her hide the body because, well, we were scared."

"A girl?  What does she look like?"

"Um..."  I looked out at the crowd of people, searching for her wide eyes and blonde hair.  "She...didn't you find her?  She was under the staircase?"

"There was no one under the staircase except a lot of uneaten food."

I smirked and waggled a finger.  "No, no, no, there's a girl.  And I brought her food and we found out that Mark tried to kill us and she defended herself.  Why?  Does it not match?"

As I waited for his reply, two police officers came up behind us, each holding a piece of evidence.  I stood between them, chills racing up and down my spine.

"Sir, the documents he wrote.  He claimed a girl wrote one part and he wrote the other.  However, they're both in his hand writing."

I gasped and rolled my eyes.  How dare they accuse me after my hard work and hers?  I wasn't going to take credit for her clever investigation.  "Ma'am, I think you're wrong.  She wrote what she heard and I wrote what I saw."

"Sir, we'll speak with you in a moment."

The second officer with information held out a plastic bag with sticky tape inside of it as well as a few white cards.  "A James Johnson's clothes fibers were found at Doug LeRoy's house and these fingerprints were found on the scene.  They match Johnson's as well." 

The first police officer who had called me over, looked at me, his eyes narrowing.  He took the documents from the woman's hands and scanned through them.  He hummed and looked up at me again.  "You've identified a lot of people in this report, however, you've never mentioned yourself.  Would you come with us?"

Pointing to myself, I felt my stomach hollow and my hands began shaking.  "Do...do you think?  But what about the girl?  She knows, too."

"There is no girl, sir.  I think it'll be well advised to come with us."

"What about Mark?"  I asked as they began leading me away from the crime scene.

"We will speak with each individual when the time comes.  Right now, you need to come with us."

Frightened, I caught myself sweating my level of anxiety heightened to the point where I was ventilating.  I felt two strong hands catch my arms and they led me to a police car.  Opening the back door, they guided my head inside and the door shut.

I remained seated, hands folded in my lap.  I didn't understand.  I didn't do it.  I was innocent.  I was only trying to help.  As the car rumbled to life, I looked out the back window where the red and blue lights swirled across the pavement, shadowing the figure of Mark and my boss speaking to another officer. 

This wasn't what was supposed to happen.