Ultraviolet ✔️

6.1

Chapter Six

I get another call early the next morning, this time around six am, when the first rays of dawn are cascading in through the windows. I blindly reach for my phone, groggily muttering a hello.

"Vi? It's Joel."

Immediately, my eyes snap open and I sit up in bed. "How did you get my number?"

"Chief Conrad," he replies, his voice picking up at the end as he poses a question. "Is everything okay?"

I rub my face with the heel of my hand. "Yeah, yeah. Why are you calling me?"

He pauses for a second, presumably to take a sip of coffee. "I think we've got a lead on the case. The victim's family came in and we're going to ask her mother some questions. Walsh said he didn't want to do it so he requested for you to come instead."

Stan is one of the most understanding men I've ever met in my life. I know for a fact that he would be excellent at talking to a family that has just been ripped to shreds by a murder like this. It's really odd that he would choose not to. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

"Do I have to?" I ask. "I don't feel too well."

"There's nothing caffeine won't fix," he says. "Look, I get that you're avoiding me for whatever reason, but I really think it would help to have a woman present. Maybe you'll relate to Valerie's mother better. Her name's Karen, she was really close to Valerie, and I think it might help her if you were there."

The difference between Joel and most other detectives is he uses the victim's first name like she's more than just one in a million dead people we investigate on behalf of. He talks about her like she's a person.

"Okay," I agree reluctantly. "Can you come to pick me up? I live on Graham Avenue in Brooklyn. It's the apartment building near the pizza place."

"I'll be there. I'm making another coffee run. Want anything?" he offers.

"Just a regular cup," I tell him. "Make it black."

With that, he hangs up. I crawl out of bed and start getting dressed, yawning as I pull a sweater over my head. It's gonna be a cold day and I'm going to need as many layers as possible.

Unsurprisingly, Betsy is still asleep on the couch, half a can of beer beside her. She stayed up later than me to binge-watch a new reality show. Thank goodness she's a heavy sleeper, or else I'd be worried about waking her up.

I creep around into the kitchen and throw a granola bar in my bag, just for the sake of having something to eat. The thing is, I already know that I won't be hungry. My stomach contorts inside me as my appetite already begins to fade.

It's just a case, I think to myself. It's not like he'll be able to really talk to me anyway. I won't let my guard down. I can't let my guard down.

He texts me when he arrives. The second my phone vibrates, I all but jump out of my skin in nervousness.

Pulling my leather jacket over my shoulders, I lock my apartment and step out into the drafty hall, shuddering from the breeze. My sense of urgency that usually sends me quickly down the stairs is gone. I take my time, my blood cold in my veins.

It's sort of funny how the beating of your heart and breathing are both automatic muscle functions, but I still have to remind myself to inhale, in and out, like I haven't done it a million times in my life.

Joel smiles cheerfully at me and opens my car door. "Morning."

"Hi," I say as I climb in, my voice robotic.