“Hi.”
“Hi!” Leah replied breathlessly as she skipped to where Lyons stood. They were in front of the police department.
“Do you think they've found her?” Lyons asked her just as they began climbing the stairs that led to the entrance door.
Leah couldn’t speak. Tension, the anxiety from the phone call still had a stronghold on her. Last night, while she was running a bath, her phone rang. As soon as she saw the name on the caller ID, her chest heaved with anticipation. Eagerness.
“Can I see you tomorrow, Miss. Lindsey?” the police chief had said. She had tried cajoling him to spill water it was. But man, the guy was a staunch…a no-telly individual, if that made sense. As a result, she could hardly catch the z's.
They made it inside and were directed to the sheriff’s office. Leah walked briskly, completely ignoring Lyons.
“Have you found her?” she said as soon as she got in.
“Good morning, Miss Lindsey.”
Leah sighed. Ashamed at her bad manners. “Good morning, Officer Grant.” She breathed in. “Any news.”
The officer pointed at the seat after he had acknowledged Lyons too. They took their seats. “Yes, there is. Lots of them.”
“Okay,” Leah said, inching forward. “And? Where’s she at?”
The officer sighed. “I’m afraid, Leah. This isn’t about Olivia, or maybe it is. There could be a connection.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Yes.” The officer sighed again. “Are you aware of Mr. Haynes disappearance?”
“You mean Olivia's dad?”
The officer nodded, his eyes happening upon her right, which was where Lyons sat. But she didn’t bother to look.
“Yes,” Leah replied. “Any problem?”
“Well, we found him.”
“What? Oh my God.”
“Miss Lindsey…”
“How? Where's he now?”
“Miss,…”
“Is he hurt? If he isn't, then good for him because he's got a lot of …”
“We found his body.”
Fuck that. He shrugged it off. Why was he getting apprehensive? Of course, he had no hand in what happened to Pete. Neither did he know Olivia's whereabouts. He was just as clueless as everyone else—he hoped.
Sighing, he started the car. The only thing that kept ringing in his head as he was driving was: coffee. As a coffee addict, he needed the company of his dear friend. He wasn’t are he could think straight without it.
And so he drove across town to his favourite coffee shop: Matier's. He got inside and placed his order. He then chose the booth that was close to the window. In search for some fresh air and tge view outside.
He had strayed from his usual. Instead of espresso, he had gone for the more…he guessed, more tender café mocca. He picked up his spoon and caressed the top layer of his beverage for some time, before putting some in his mouth. Then, just then, something akin to guilt set in. Here he was, all relaxed on a nice warm sofa, spoiling himself with a glass of mocca. He was acting as if he hadn’t just been to the police station. As if Leah wasn’t grieving somewhere. Im her bathroom, maybe? In some park, perhaps.
However, he shut his eyes, not wanting to feel bad. Once again, fuck that. What he was gonna do was this: finish this treat, and drive straight home. Then, he was going to take a long warm bath and catch some sleep. By the time he woke up, he should be himself. Yes. And then, he'd try calling Leah again. Hopefully, she would be responsive. Hopefully.
Therefore, he sat back and indulged himself. His eyes outside, majority of the time. The difference between Bookehurt and Fridgeton was damn clear. A curfew had been called in Fridgeton, and even outside the hours of the curfew, one could only find few people on the streets. But here…here in Bookehurt, people carried on with their daily life as if the eyes of the humans weren’t on them now.
Somehow, Lyons’ eyes fell on something. Someone. A figure. For a moment, he thought he was in some form of trance. Or maybe his eyes had suddenly gone faulty. Who knows. But then, what he saw, or rather whom he saw couldn’t have been a figment of his imagination. It was as real as the day Peggy had died.
Lyons saw the figure walk behind a lady who appeared to be a salesgirl and was carrying his purchases. He stood while she dropped the items in the car. And after that, he left.
Lyons sat, transfixed. He kept looking as the person got into his flashy car and drove away. Lyons blinked. He couldn’t believe whom he'd just seen. Matteo Macini?
The demon that had murdered his sister, Peggy. He growled silently. Seeing nothing but red. The shade of cherry. Lyons tasted hatred. The feeling hung thickly in the air and had found its way to his tongue. He felt pain. A sharp stinging pain that shot from his palm. It took just a chanced gaze to realise he had hurt himself. His right palm was bleeding, and the handle of the mocca glass had been broken.
Yet, he wasn’t fazed. The locked up anger surged up. Matteo bloody Macini!
***

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