Insanity Stains Red

fifteen

Detective Samson sat back, stunned. I don’t think he had fully processed everything that I had told him, but it looked like he wasn’t dismissing me completely, so that was progress. “I’m honestly not sure what to do with this information – it’s above my pay grade.”

“Then call someone equipped to deal with it, and get them in here. Either way, you need to move today – tonight, or it will be too late and they’ll all be dead.”

Detective Samson asked me to wait and stepped out of the room, presumably to make the required phone call. He came back in several minutes later, looking grim but determined. “Okay, things have been set in motion, and it’s out of my hands now.” He saw I was about to protest and waved me down. “You need to trust me Evelyn, they’ll get them, I promise.” I nodded slowly. “Good.” He said. “Because right now I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out – no arguments. You’ve got a lot of injuries there; I want to make sure there’s nothing serious.”

I glared at him but remained silent. I was actually pretty sure that several of my injuries were serious, but I couldn’t exactly explain that I was used to it – I doubted that would sit well with the detective, and the last thing I needed was him going over-protective on me right now. Besides, the pain was bothering me quite a bit, if the hospital could do something about it, then that would be so much better. I even went so far as to let him help me outside to his car; it had been a very long walk here after all. I eased down into the passenger seat, ignoring the students trying to sneak looks and figure out what was going on.

The nearest hospital was an hour and a half away; it was going to be a long drive. Unlike Shawn, Detective Samson was not the silent type. I’d found that strange because I’d always pictured cops to be stoic and reserved. But apparently the detective wanted more information on what I’d witnessed over the years. As if I hadn’t already given him enough. “Tell me more about what happens down there – these murders, are there rituals involved, or is it just mindless slaughter in the name of your god?” I noticed that he linked me in with the other believers, which told me more than anything that he’d been paying attention.

“Because ritual killings would mean a cult, is that right?” He looked slightly ashamed at having asked the question. I shrugged. “I know what I was a part of, detective. What I want to know is why aren’t you arresting me for the things I’ve done? Everything I’ve told you about – I took part in those rituals too.” The voices had to add their piece to that. ‘All that, and so much more.’  I ignored them. The good detective didn’t need to know that much. He focused on the road, avoiding my eyes.

“Ah, well. You’re a special case you know, being under twenty-one and all that. My bet is they’ll throw immunity at you if you agree to testify in court – you will testify, won’t you?”

“Testify against my father and the others?” He nodded. “Yup. I want them locked up. Especially since, if even one of them walks free, they’ll hunt me down and kill me for what I’ve done. The detective looked as if he didn’t quite believe that. Either he didn’t think I was important enough for them to go to that much trouble to kill me, or he underestimated father’s influence over them. I’d learned a long time ago not to underestimate father and the lengths he’s willing to go to, to get what he wants – and he’ll be wanting revenge for this little stunt.

I sighed and sank further into my seat, closing my eyes in an attempt to shut the world out. Detective Samson could believe whatever he wanted; that wouldn’t change the way things were. “What’s going to happen to me, then?” I asked, moving only my mouth. I tried to act un-concerned, but in truth my stomach was in knots. For the first time in my life my future was uncertain, and I didn’t like the way that made me feel.

“I wish I had something comforting to tell you, but I’m honestly not sure. Depending how big the threat to you really is, they might put you in a sort of witness protection until everything dies down a bit, otherwise they’ll likely put you into foster care – at least until you finish school. Whatever they decide, I’ll make sure you’re safe, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, detective.”

“What makes you think I can’t keep it?” I gave a half shrug and didn’t bother answering. He’d figure it out soon enough, I was pretty sure the law didn’t protect murderers no matter how young they might be. Detective Samson gave a frustrated sigh and then decided to move on to safer topics.

He began to talk about simpler matters, asking me what kinds of things I was currently studying at school. When we came to the topic of politics class however, the detective ventured to ask a question. “So do you know what really happened to Mr Jenkins?”

I bit my lip, deliberating. “I probably shouldn’t say anything else until I talk to a lawyer.”

"You’re not under arrest, Evelyn.”

“Nonetheless…” I said, letting my voice trail off pointedly. I’d already said too much. Anymore and there’d be no way I’d be able to crawl out of the whole I was digging. There was an awkward silence then, but thankfully we pulled into the hospital car park at that moment, and were soon making our way – painfully on my part – into the emergency ward.

In some freak twist of fate, we were in to see the doctor in less than thirty minutes. I’d once heard a kid at school telling his friend that he’d had to spend five hours waiting to see a doctor when he’d broken his arm. So I was fairly certain the detective had waved his badge around to get me moved up the cue, not that I was complaining. No one wanted to sit in a hospital waiting room for hours in pain.

I tuned out a lot of what the doctors said; whether from the steadily building pain in my side or sheer exhaustion I didn’t know. Even so, I caught the general gist of what they were discussing with the detective. It was something about the fact that I had several broken bones and a small possibility of internal bleeding from a perforated organ of some sort – maybe I wasn’t paying as much attention as I thought. They didn’t want to waste time with x-rays at this moment, opting instead for exploratory surgery. The nurses rushed me through preparation, ordering me to lie down on the hard mattress so that they could administer the anaesthetics to put me under.

I did everything they asked, being used to taking orders and realising there was no point arguing anyway. The detective stayed by my side as long as he could. His face was the last thing I saw before I went under.