"You're going to make me do bad things to you, sweetheart." | Frank Rider is the new teacher. His favourite word is 'detention'. He's iniquitous, rude and vicious. To get on his bad side would be suicide. Unfortunately for Cleo, she's already dived...
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CHAPTER LXX
Quiet voices slipped out from under the closed kitchen doorway. Consoling murmurs and befuddled questions. The officers had followed Zeus into the kitchen, a pair of sympathy and uncomfortableness. There had been a clatter of dishes, the whistle of kettle, a pouring of scalding hot water into mugs and the brief pulling of chairs. They settled.
We followed like children to a mother, probing and prying and clamouring for answers, but consummately quiet. Silent in our thoughts, beings of stillness surrounded by dead air and decaying relationships. The scene was muted, despite this it spoke volumes. Screeches, screams, roars of accusation, of shaking heads, denial and promises on God's heavenly word. Crosses on chest, hands on figurative bibles, courts in God's kingdom – none of it mattered. The judge, the juror, and the witness were the executioner all rolled into one: this was the one act I could not forgive. God be damned. He would not be able to escape behind his white lies and fabricated innocence.
Listen.
"New evidence has come to light. A CCTV video recording shows your mother pacing...have reason to believe she may have been influenced or pressured...She can be seen talking to a man... For now we'll be appealing to the public for any information on the night... We express our sincerest condolences..." The officer's words were a buzz in the air, flitting in and out of hearing distance.
The ambiance became polar-cold. A wintry, bleak temperature despite the closed windows. My gaze slowly raised from the floor, meeting Eton's troubled stare. My expression was aloof. Cold-blooded. My chest was a tightly-packed case of rage. Uncontrollable hatred at its purest form. No God, no prayer, no priest would be able to save my brother. I exhaled slowly.
A nerve ticked in Eton's jaw. An uncontrollable twitch. A telling tale. I caught it. He turned on his heel and departed as the sound of chairs being pushed back occurred. The officer seemed to be handing Zeus a business card, informing him he'd be the first to know of any developments in the case. Of course, he said, for now these are suspicions. Not certain facts. What he did not disclose was that it was a requirement, an obligation, he tick on a checklist for a file he would've thrown in the back of a drawer had it not been for his supervisor's checks. Whilst he had abandoned to cross his T's and dot his I's, I, unaware, had been compliantly playing with my brother. An unlikely relationship had grown out of stubborn concrete. And for what?
The kitchen door was pulled open. A pot-bellied man in a tight suit walked out. "Oh." He expressed surprise at seeing me sitting on the third-to-last step. His superior, an older black man with a handsome face nodded at me. He seemed tired.
Zeus walked them to the front door, shaking the officer's hand. "We'll be in touch." The older officer said. Zeus said a thank you, closing the door after them. He leaned against the door for a moment, silent in the lifeless house. His back curled, inclining. Almost ready to give up. Exhausted. Then he straightened with a loud inhale, turned and wiped a hand across his mouth. Sunken-in eyes stared at me.
