Into My Heart

XIX

The police arrived around 10:40 pm, ten minutes after Sam and Kristie, who were truly traumatized by the scene in my bathroom, and that might be the most normal reaction the three of us had had. 

Obviously, we didn't sleep that night: between the load of policemen and women present in my apartment, looking through any piece of evidence, searching carefully any piece of evidence that would explain who did it and why it had to be me, because this warning was pretty personal and wasn't a coincidence. Kristie and Sam stayed the whole night, as it now was 2 am, and that either of us were even bothered or tired. Rather, our hands were shaking, as I was trying to keep it together despite being as scared as I never had been. 

After some time - time it took for the forensic people to analyse the bathroom, as well as the body, and then take it out on a stretcher in order to immediately go to the morgue and do an autopsy, since no apparent sign of what killed that poor man was found on his body - FBI people entered my apartment: a tall, mid-long blonde-haired woman in a classy suit, accompanied by a brunette that looked just flawless in her suit and a couple of male agents. They really seemed professional, and we even heard that they came all the way from New York in a private jet all the way to the small town of Orange, California, where the next baddest thing that ever happened was a college shooting, and then that's it - at least that we know of. 

The two women walk straight toward us as the forensic people pointed at us, presenting their badges. The blonde woman then presents herself and her colleagues:

"I am agent Harris, and this is my associate, Agent Krieger, and we both are from the anti-gangs sectors of the FBI. From now on, we will be taking on this case."

"I'm sorry" Kristie immediately and confidentially says, pointing at the stretcher with the dead corpse on it, "but do you mind telling us how this dead guy is connected to any gang ?"

And that is when I start to feel like shit.

Obviously, I haven't told either my half-sisters that I discovered, during our father's last breath, that he was a gang leader and died because of it. How could I? Closing my eyes, I start feeling the world turning around me. 

But nobody notices it, as Agent Krieger takes over:

"Well, it appears that this dead man is Diego Garcia, high-ranked member of the Dragons, which is a local gang operating in Orange County and environnating cities to Orange, such as Santa Ana, Anaheim and Irvine, among others."

"Okay" Sam stutters, obviously in shock, her eyes going back-and-forth between the two FBI agents, her sister, and my pale face. The two agents remain calm and patient, as the tall blonde asks: "But what does this... Dragon gang has to do with my sister's bathtub? And what's this with the threat written on the mirror?"

There is it, I think to myself, feeling nauseous and on the verge of falling apart.

"Well" Agent Harris calmly says, her tone immediately changing. "You might want to sit down first, ladies."

Equally worried, Sam and Kristie sit down slowly, staring at me waiting for a reaction that never occurred. 

Agent Krieger then drops the bomb:

"It appears that your father, Andrew Dahlkemper, has belonged to this gang at least 20 years prior to his passing. As a matter of fact, sources affirm that he was the city's leader."

"What?" Kristie exclaims, raising on her feet, furious. "I will not let you spit on his grave with some diffamations based on hideous stereotypes! Our father wasn't perfect, but he definitely wasn't part of any gang, left alone a gang leader! If that's all you've got then I suggest you just get the hell out of my sister's apartment because we won't just sit there and let you-"