Murder in the Magic City: A Micah Brantley Story, G.P. Sorrells [reading comprehension books TXT] 📗

on her shoulder. He lightly grabbed her face with the other, a soft smile peeking out to calm down his unwitting accomplice. “It’s going to be okay; I promise.”

Citron smiled as Micah disappeared into the bedroom. He fumbled around inside the room for some time, but never wiped a print, or attempted to cover Castillo’s body. A few minutes later, he walked out, stuffing an envelope into his back pocket.

“Let’s get out of here. Get you someplace safe.”

Chapter 54

Vivian arrived at the bungalow at the end of the cul-de-sac, rooted to the doorstep with her gaze locked at a door she had walked through hundreds of times before. The thought of going through once more terrified her. Would she feel the presence of the confidant who had been ripped from her life so suddenly? A pulsing reminder of the friendship that was lost simply because a good man had tried to do his job when everything in the world signaled to him that the best course of action was to wait it out on the periphery.

She placed a hand on the doorknob, its intricate design softly etching a copy into her skin. “You can do this, Vivian. Get your shit together.”

“You all right over there?” An unfamiliar voice called out from the street, friendly in a passive-aggressive manner which suggested a finger waiting to hit the speed dial for 9-1-1. Vivian turned to see an older woman in her nightgown, pink curlers in her salt-and-pepper hair, and a furry, brown ankle biter attached to the leash held by her uncrossed arm. “If you’re looking for Daniel, he hasn’t been home in some time.”

Daniel? Who the hell calls him that? Vivian was curious to find out more about the woman, but not nearly as much as she was about what lay on the other side of the oak door blocking her path into Osteen’s home. “He, uh, asked me to check on his place while he’s away,” Vivian said, twirling the key to the front door. She unlocked the door and turned the knob.

“Oh, well, all right.” A hint of sadness in her voice at not being provided the chance to alert the authorities. “Make sure you flip the light on when you leave. Runs the electric bill up a bit, but it keeps the vagrants away.”

“Understood,” Vivian smiled. She nearly leaped into the home and shut the door. It took a moment for the weight of the world around her to take hold. The crushing reality that despite her hopes to the contrary, the home was nothing more than an empty shell. Four walls which used to protect a friend from the elements, but now existed as nothing more than a random point on a map, easily missed by anyone not looking for it specifically.

Decorations were sparse, a few pictures of Osteen in the line of duty. Graduation from the academy, God, he looked young there. Almost didn’t recognize him. Receiving various medals and honors for admirable work in solving a variety of cases. Many people could lay their loved ones to rest because of Dan’s efforts.

Vivian’s heart dropped when she saw a photo of the two homicide detectives, taken on her first day. They had been working a case Osteen had been working for months. A young girl orphaned and unable to explain who had taken away her parents. She was barely a toddler, only just learning how to form somewhat coherent sentences. Nothing she could say would be admissible in court. They had questioned every conceivable suspect but turned up nothing of note. Family members, close friends, anyone who had been around the girl in the weeks leading up to the disappearance of her parents.

The girl, Maria, recognized none of them as anything more than what they were to her at their most basic level. Nothing to suggest foul play. Unwilling to just let it all end there, to watch as the helpless child became a cog in a system she deserved no part in, Osteen and Vivian tried a different angle. They took the girl to get ice cream and talked to her like she was just a friend. No badges, no guns, no mention of her parents. Just three friends spending time with one another and shoveling down frozen sugar milk. To put Maria at ease, Vivian suggested the trio take a picture to commemorate the occasion. She told Maria they would make copies and keep in touch as the years passed.

As they sat at their table enjoying one another’s company, Maria suddenly became irritable, eventually collapsing into uncontrollable tears. Vivian moved to console her, telling her everything would be okay. Osteen followed the toddler’s eyes and locked onto a young woman wiping tables nearby.

“What’s the matter, Maria? I can get us more ice cream.”

“Ley-lie,” Maria choked out between tears. She buried her head in Vivian’s embrace. The young woman abruptly stopped wiping tables and walked away, slowly at first, but her pace quickened almost immediately after she glanced their way. Her face was stoic, betraying no emotion, but it was clear she wanted to disappear from their view.

Osteen glimpsed her nametag: Leslie. He looked over at Maria and put his hand on her shoulder. “Who’s Leslie?”

“She’s daddy’s friend,” the child said, trying to fight back tears. “She plays with me sometimes, but she is mean.”

Leslie and Maria’s father had been having an affair. He wanted to try something new but was spooked out of continuing the adulterous act when Leslie brought up the idea of commitment. Not one to be turned down, and especially not keen on sharing things she felt belonged to her, Leslie took matters into her own hands and ended things permanently for both of Maria’s parents.

Tough result aside, the picture still showed Vivian just how far she had come in a few short years. She was thankful to have had the time she did with Osteen, though she’d have given anything for more.

She made her way down