Locket full of Secrets (3 page)

“...and then I fell and hit my head,” I finished, glad to be done with the recap at last.

I glanced at the two officers at the foot of my bed. They had been asking me questions for the last hour, trying to make sure they knew each and every detail about my time in Perkins with Olena. The only thing that made it a little better was that one of the officers was Ray Cimenti, my next door neighbor and dad’s best friend. His partner, Officer Janet Alberino, however, was doing her best to grill me as if I was somehow at fault for the dead man.

“Your friend never mentioned anything about being in trouble or being scared someone was after her?” Officer Alberino asked again, at least the third time for that particular question.

“No,” I closed my eyes as I continued to talk. “She told me that when she left Ohio it was to help family, but didn’t say where and didn’t hint that things were still bad after her aunt died in a car accident.”

“Claire, we really need to you to focus,” she grumbled, clicking her pen a few times for good measure. I opened my eyes and stared at her. “There is a dead guy we can’t get an ID on, and the only known person in that restroom was your friend. Her blood was on the wall right under the window and all over the knife she stabbed him with. Now either she just decided to stab some guy, or she was in trouble and is trying to hide it. Innocent people don’t just stab guys in the chest then sneak out a window to get away.”

“I told you everything I know. I just want to go to bed and have this day be over,” I explained, my voice breaking as I was once again overcome with emotion. I had more questions than any of the law officials did, but had no one to answer them.

“We just need-” she began again, before being cut off by Mr. Cimenti.

“Let’s let her rest,” he offered. “Once she gets more sleep maybe she will remember something useful.”

I could hear Officer Alberino grinding her teeth. Thankfully, after a pause, she gave a curt nod before turning and walking into the hallway.

“We’re right outside if you remember anything,” Mr. Cimenti smiled kindly. “And I’ll let your parents know to come check on you again.”

As he left the room, closing the door gently behind him, I allowed the tears to flow once again. Since arriving at the hospital just after 10pm I was stitched up immediately. My head wound required seven stitches, then lead to a time of “concussion watch” as my mom called it. Basically I would sleep for an hour or two then be woken up to make sure I was not dying. This wouldn’t have been too bad aside from the fact that both my head and wrist were throbbing. I had apparently landed harder than I thought, and managed to break my wrist, on top of the nice blow to my forehead. Thanks to the possibility of a concussion I was only allowed to take some Tylenol until they could determine I was healthy enough for real drugs.

By morning the doctors believed I was no longer suffering any head trauma and allowed me some serious medicine and more rest. Sadly I only got a few short hours when the questioning began. While I was out the police were trying to figure out what exactly had happened in Perkins, interviewing wait staff and checking security videos. I was the missing link in the story it seemed, but sadly could not provide any more details to what they already knew.

Through the interviews I was put through, details began to be filled in. Based on evidence at the scene of the crime, it appeared Olena had fought with the man in the restroom before stabbing him. No, not just stabbing him once or twice, but rather 23 times. The number of stab wounds and her quick exit out of the bathroom’s only window made all the police uneasy. Even more so, however, was the fact that there was no record of an Olena Kozak living in the United States. There were no records showing her arrival in from Russia, and no fingerprint record on file either.

As I laid there in the hospital bed staring at the stark white ceiling I ran my conversation with Olena over and over again in my head. We had chatted about boys we used to have crushes on, the latest drama with the girls we hung out with back in middle school, and then it was over. She was gone, killing a man and leaving his body in her wake.

“We got you some food,” my mom suddenly announced, coming into the room with my dad.

I did my best to smile as they placed a tray before me loaded with fresh fruit, soup, chips, a sandwich, and classic hospital Jell-O.

“I wasn’t sure how hungry you would be,” dad shrugged.

“So he bought the whole cafeteria!” Mom laughed, but the worry lines stayed on her forehead like a stain.

“Thanks, it’s perfect,” I replied. My stomach still felt like a brick, but I did my best to start putting food into my body. I could feel my parents watch each raise and lowering of my arm, willing the food to heal my body and emotions faster.

“I spoke with the doctor,” mom said casually as she began tidying up the already clean room. “They want to get some more fluids in you and then they said you should be okay to leave.”

“Great,” I managed through a mouth of Jell-O. It was already 2 in the afternoon, and the idea of being in my own bed felt wonderful.

“Let’s put the game on!” Dad announced, grabbing the remote and flipping on the Cleveland Indians game. He was a caged animal in the tiny hospital room, wanting to run but not wanting to leave me alone with the big needles and constant questions about all I had been through.

Doing my best to choke down more food while watching the game, I tried to pretend I was at home in our living room watching the innings play out. Baseball was always on in my house, so the familiar voices of the commentators helped me relax a little more. Mom took a seat at the end of my bed, one hand resting on my leg while she cheered on the team with dad and me. If it wasn’t for the shadowy figure of the police outside and the sterile smell of hospital chemicals invading my nostrils I might have actually enjoyed our moment.

Taking the last bite of chips I could muster, I leaned back into my pillows. I closed my eyes and listened to the game. Before long, the game faded as I once again found sleep, despite the chaos around me.

I was woken up at the end of the second inning when a nurse entered to check my vitals. Dad took it as his cue to step outside while mom pretended to read a magazine to pass the time. Between questions from the nurse I could hear dad in the hallway chatting to Mr. Cimenti. It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying it, but the phrases I caught were less than comforting. From what I could put together it sounded like the dead body was unidentified, the only lead coming from the Canadian cash in his wallet.

“I’ll be back in just a moment with release forms for you to sign,” the nurse told my mom before leaving the room

“Well, let’s get you into something more comfortable.” Mom could not help but smile as she pulled my favorite flannel pajamas out of the tote bag she had sitting with her coat.  

I smiled back at her, not forcing the action for the first time since arriving at the hospital the night before. Sitting up to get changed I tried not to think too much about where my other clothes were. I knew I would likely never see them again, since they were no doubt in an evidence bag somewhere still covered in blood from the bathroom floor. Shaking off the thought, I pulled on an old pair of tennis shoes just as dad entered the room carrying what had to be the largest stuffed animal they sold in the hospitals store.

“I know you’re a little old for these now, but he just looked like he needed a good home,” dad shrugged, making the bear dance a little in the air.

Sliding off the bed and walking towards him, I gave the bear and my dad a hug. On my own I never would have picked out the bear, but given all I had gone through it was nice to have something to cuddle up to.

As the doctors came in with a wheelchair they insisted I sit in on the trip to the car, I squeezed the bear for support. Leaving the hospital meant that it was time to face the real world, the one where my best friend killed people in the bathroom at Perkins.

“Where are we going?” I asked once the nurse pushed the button for the basement.

“There are a few reporters outside,” Mr. Cimenti, who had joined us for the ride, spoke up before my parents had the chance. “We’re taking you out a back entrance to avoid them all.”

His words left me holding the bear even tighter. It had not hit me yet that word of a murder would be spreading. Surely it had made the local news. My picture was no doubt plastered on every TV set in town, making it obvious to my classmates why I had missed a day at school.

My heart was racing by the time we exited the hospital and I was loaded into our car. I was constantly looking around us, expecting to see reporters heading our way any second.

“I’ll be following right behind you Lou,” Mr. Cimenti said, before walking to his police cruiser.

“Is he like, escorting us home?” I asked as I buckled my seatbelt. I said it more as a joke, but dad turned from the front seat to give me a serious look.

“Ray is a little worked up about you, and so am I,” dad explained as mom started the car. “He said he’s going to be on watch at the house for a few days in case your friend stops by for a visit.”

Clamping my eyes shut to ward off the tears I tried to tell myself this was just my dad’s best friend worrying about me. I had to be safe, right? As we pulled into my driveway a few minutes later I let out the breath I was holding, unbuckled my seatbelt, and headed inside before my parents could offer to help.

“Do you want something to eat?” mom asked as she chased after me into the house. Her voice was strained, clearly worried she did not have something more practical to offer me.

“No,” I mumbled. Without looking back I headed straight to my room and curled up on my bed.

I could hear my parents standing outside my open door. They did not want to bother me, but were worried about me all the same. Knowing my mom would stand there all night if I did not give her something to do I sat up and called her into the room.

“Can you make me some tea?” I asked, knowing deep down the warm liquid might help my throat. It was still a little sore from screaming in the bathroom.

“Of course honey,” she replied, before heading back towards the kitchen.

“Do you want anything to snack on?” dad suggested, not wanting to be left out of helping.

“I think I’m okay,” I smiled. “I might take a shower though.”

“I’ll grab a clean towel,” dad nodded then towards the linen closet at the end of the hall. I had only mentioned it so my dad would leave for a little, but the more I thought about washing my body the better it sounded. I would have to wait a few days to wash my hair thanks to the stitches, and would need to keep my new cast out of the flow of water, but it was better than nothing.

After a hot shower and sipping my tea with my parents watching from my bedroom door I announced I was tired and wanted to get some sleep. It was still early, and I knew I would not have to go to school in the morning, but I did not have the energy to keep the charade up any longer. Claiming a need for sleep seemed to be the best way to get them to back down a little.