Page 2 of Devil’s Torture
“Are you Bexley Waller?” The other officer’s voice makes me snap my gaze toward her. I don’t like the professional pity laced in her tone.
Pity.
Why would she pity me?
“Yes,” I whisper while not liking the way everything is starting to spiral around me.
At least it feels like it is.
I know I’m standing still.
Upright. Mostly.
But I am shaking.
My hands. My legs. My very soul.
“Do you know Ron Silver?”
Cold washes over my body at hearing my stepfather’s name from the officer. Why are they asking about him? What has he done now? How am I going to be pulled into even more of his mess?
“Yes?” I hate how tentative my voice sounds even though I can barely hear it over the pounding of my heart. “He’s my stepfather.”
The expression on the officer’s face turns grim and I can see the hesitation written there. I brace myself but I have a feeling it won’t be enough.
“I’m sorry to inform you, but there’s been an incident. Ron Silver was found dead.” I stumble back a few steps, and my fingers barely scrape against the wood of the doorframe before I catch myself. The officer’s voice softens slightly. “An investigation has been opened. You’re the only family we’ve been able to locate.”
My voice is a rasp, “What does that mean?”
They share a look before one swallows hard, his words come out slowly and coaxing like he’s afraid I’ll fall apart at any minute. I might, but probably not for the reasons he’s thinking.
“You may need to identify the body. Then, once it has been released, you may want to plan to have a service?”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. A service.
My hands are still shaking, but now it’s from a strange sense of relief which I never anticipated feeling in my life. I figured I would simply have to live with the lingering threat of him and exist in a constant state of wondering what he’ll try to pull next.
“Right,” the words slips past my lips distractedly while I nod absently. My brain is not processing this very well. Am I still asleep? My voice is a little hollow, “He was calling me lately, but I didn’t answer. We don’t have the best relationship, especially after my mom died a few years ago.”
The officers seem to relax slightly, as if our lack of relationship means I won’t be breaking down right here in front of them. I won’t. But I do have questions.
“I don’t know what he wanted,” I admit, the words coming out of my mouth before I can stop them, the edges of my mind still a little hazy with sleep. “I never answered and he never left a message.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“I moved out of the house the day I turned 18.” I swallow hard against the rising realization of my stepfather’s death. “I haven’t seen him since.”
“You may need to give a statement since he had recently tried to contact you,” the officer informs me, but I can hear the sympathy underneath the words.
“I haven’t seen him in over a year. I don’t believe I have any legal ties to the man.” I rub my forehead, a headache forming that I wish I could do anything to prevent. I’m so damn tired all of a sudden, it’s a struggle to even keep standing. “I’m more than willing to answer questions, but I don’t know the man anymore, and I’m not sure what I could add. Living in his house was harrowing,” my words feel like a confession. “I don’t know,” I pause and swallow hard, the feeling of my skin stretching too tight makes me want to shriek even though it won’t help, “I don’t know if I care to claim his body.”
I wince as I look at the officers, but they aren’t looking at me with disappointment. I’m not sure why, but it makes me feel a little better.
One of them holds out a card, their voice softening in a way it hasn’t before. “I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do about claiming his body or burying him. We only wanted to inform you properly about his passing.” I take the card with shaking fingers. “Call if you have any questions and we’ll follow up if anything is required from our end.”
I think I nod. I’m not entirely sure.
My fingers go numb as I stare down at the card. Somehow it makes it real. It shouldn’t.
