Amy

Riding my bike to school, I noticed over a dozen of protesters blocked a major road I was supposed to cross.

Intently following the trail, I found the hot spot to be the city police station. Small groups of people chanted, and news vans were everywhere.

Then, I weaved through the crowd to get a closer look. What I discovered was unbelievable.

'What do you have to say to the people of Bluebridge, who have trusted the police agency for years just for them to witness the head of the Special Investigations Unit arrested for police corruption?' a journalist questioned the police.

They had no comments.

'So you don't deny the chief of Bluebridge SPU in fact murdered Cleodora Martinez, an innocent minor?' another journalist sprung up, closer to the front.

'What?' my head turned.

'Hey...' a journalist closer to the back paused and evaluated me, 'you're the thief who was friends with the murdered girl, who ran jobs for Acosta –'

'What – no I'm not', I took a step back.

'Yeah... you're the thief that was in the papers a while back', a third journalist butted in, 'your face is familiar'.

'I don't know what you guys are talking about', I refuted. Dammit! They knew. Before more and more reporters started confirming who I was, I jumped on my bike and rode away.

'Heya, can I speak to the... manager?' I requested, at the reception of a lavish interior design store.

'What do you want, girl?' the receptionist snapped, looking down on me, 'she's not available. But if you have an inquiry, you can raise it at our online customer service –'

'Tell her it's about my friend, Chris Ruiz'.

'What?' the receptionist paused, and dialled a number on her phone, 'are you a police informant?' she whispered.

'No'.

'I'm sorry. We can't help you –'

'Wait...' a tall, dark-skinned woman with long curly hair approached, 'bring her in'. Calm and calculated, I moved into the managers private space. We moved into a storage room, with wide slider doors.

'Right before Chris died, he came to your lounge to meet someone...'

'I don't meddle in other peoples' business', the woman snapped, 'anything else you wanna know?'

'Yes...' I seethed, walking in circles to cool my emerging indignation, 'I'm pretty certain he had a file...' as soon as I said file, the woman's eyes widened, 'it was a file containing – important stuff. I hear that file was the reason he got killed. He was gonna expose stuff about the police?'

'I know nothing about that'.

'Do you think... what they're saying on the news is true?' I asked, pointing to the wall TV that stood between us.

'I... maybe', the woman stammered, constructing curated answers, 'if the chief murdered that young Brazilian girl, there's a chance the same man murdered your friend, Chris, right?'

'Mmmmh', I nodded. I took myself back to the day of Cleo's death.

The fridge was empty. Before I left for the gas station to get food, Cleo was on the phone with her boyfriend. I rode my bike to the store.

'But something doesn't add up...' I said in a low tone. In the store, I crossed paths with the detective. 'That man being accused of the murder, was with me at the time Cleo was shot'.

'Oh...?' with a pretentious reaction, the woman folded her arms.

'The first person to arrive at the murder scene had to be her boyfriend, Chris. And when he arrived, he took the one most crucial piece of evidence, Cleo's car camera. Maybe that file had information from the car camera'.

'As I've said before, I can't help you with that –'

'What did you do with the file?' I pulled out my gun. The manager jumped.

'Okay girl... lets relax, right?' she squirmed, arms up.

'I used an app the police were familiar with, accessed the footage of Chris being shot, and did a reverse search to find... you', I explained, showing her the footage from my phone screen, 'this is you. Social security number. Business registration. Your store address...'

'You're smarter than I thought...' the woman tremored, 'okay, it's true. I buried the file'.

'Why?' I tiptoed towards her, 'you're protecting the real murderer... it's a cop... it's someone you know...' I fitted the pieces together by myself. Every new piece I uncovered... formed every new bead of sweat on the woman's forehead, 'it's someone you're close with –'

'I don't know any of those detectives', she snapped instantly.

'What if I share this video with the internet –'

'Don't do that! Please', she begged.

'So tell me who you were covering for'.

'Amy – drop the gun!' Selena burst through the storage room doors. Her gun was held towards me. In that moment, the revelation struck me. 'Please listen to me, Amy'.

'You're – you're sisters...' I uttered. As her sister waddled backwards, Selena moved closer.

'Yes. We are sisters', she replied, in a deep voice, 'before I knocked, I overheard your conversation. I get it. You're scared, and confused –'

'I'm not scared... or confused', I assured her, 'in fact I've never seen more clearly'. Using my levitation, I snatched Selena's gun like a magnet and gripped onto it. Now I had two, one pointing at Selena, one pointing at her sister.

Together, they tremored like withering leaves, breathing heavily in fear. Instinctively, Selena eclipsed her sister, with her hands up.

'I'm the one you want. I killed Cleo', her voice tremored, 'don't touch Solange'. Selena fell to her knees before me. Surrender. I couldn't believe what she had just confessed.

'All this time?!' I growled, below my breath. Spinning in circles and panting, I felt like I was about to lose it, 'I knew it. I knew it!' Breathe. Composure. Twisting back towards them, I aimed one gun to Selena.

'Amy... will you let me explain –'

'No! The time for that is over'.

'Selena, st-step back', Solange quivered, trying to be protective of her sister. Selena closed her eyes and braced herself as if she'd been waiting for this moment. Stiff. Then she opened her eyes filled with desperation.

I pulled the trigger.

Before school the next day, I rode my bike to the Bluebridge city correctional center. Sergio was detained in a cell. I had to find a way to tell him what happened to Selena. A prison guard escorted me to his cell.

'Amy?' he looked baffled, 'how did you get in here? They don't allow –'

'Hello Dad...' slowly, I walked in. he went along with it, lips sealed.

'You've got five minutes, okay?' the guard demanded. We nodded. The door shut.

'You shouldn't be here', he complained immediately.

'Funny how the tables have turned, detective...' in this moment, my fury was suppressed, 'now you're the criminal, and I'm the investigator...'

'Amy... where do I begin?' he sighed, bowing his head.

'You can begin with telling me why you lied to me this whole time'. I took a seat in front of him. He fell silent. 'Or maybe tell me why you're here and the real murderer isn't'.

'Err – what?' in shock, he lifted his face again. With his beady eyes, the guard observed us through the window. To the guard, this was just a sad family visit.

'Don't treat me like I'm stupid'.

'Okay... okay', Sergio conceded. Closing his eyes and inhaling, he tried so hard to find control over the narrative. But it was too late. 'Out of curiosity, how did you find out?'

'Your partner, Selena, I put a gun to her sister who buried Chris' evidence...'

'You did what?!'

'Obviously that forced Selena to confess, so then I put a gun to her head'.

'Amy!'

'Don't worry... I shot the ground', I ensured, with a grin. With relief, Sergio sighed deeply, 'but she got the shock of her life, so bad that I think she went into labour, right there... on the floor'.

'Oh – God!' he began panicking again.

'A lot of blood. Real messy', I described.

'Is she at a hospital? Is she okay?!' he asked, restless about her wellbeing. I froze, then sat back on my chair. 'Say something! What's happened to her now?!' Evaluating his every jitter, twitch, and restless eyes, it didn't take me long to get what was going on.

'Wow', I sighed, shaking my head.

'What?!'

'Nothing...'