The windows at the back of the van were tinted so dark that it was nearly impossible to see the world passing by. Craning my neck from the rear left seat, I stole a glance through the front window. A thick pane of frosted glass separated the driver’s cabin from my seat, limiting my understanding of the outside world to a knowledge that it was no longer light outside. But still raining, judging from the pitter pattering on the van roof.
A muffle came over the radio. The soldier sitting opposite me spoke briefly into it, then addressed me.
“You’ll be dropped off in 2 minutes” he spat. I nodded confirmation of my understanding.
He seemed to hesitate for a half a second, before adding “don’t do anything unexpected”. He shuffled slightly, so his rifle was more visible to me. Was that a threat? I looked away.
We trundled along in the van for another minute, before I felt the familiar bumps of my driveway. In another minute, I will be released under high level security to return to my home for the last time. I had been given twelve hours to collect what I needed before my final court appearance.
I actually considered this a stroke of luck on my part. The judge hadn’t jumped to conclusions when I presented the printed polaroids. The evidence was declared “inconclusive” and the half burnt one considered evidence against my case, but it was enough for me to obtain one last hearing.
The back door of the van opened. Another armed guard spoke “Don’t move until we say.” What would Selene do? I thought to myself. Her own federal work had her caught up in a number of these situations in the past, yet she always found a way out. How I miss her.
The guard unbuckled my seatbelts and then seized my wrists. “We’ll lead you inside and then you’re off. 12 hours has already started.” he gruffled.
The rain still hadn’t stopped. As I was being led down my front lawn, my one nice blazer soaking in the rain, I noticed something wasn’t quite right. I squinted my eyes through the rain. My front door was open.
“Don’t move an inch!” the voice of the guard leading me down the path cut through the rain. I had instinctively struggled with panic upon the sight of the front door ajar, and the light in the upstairs bedroom, which I just noticed, turned on. “My door…” I squeezed out.
“You’ll speak when spoken to!” he interrupted.
Struggling, I made it to my doorstep. The guard let me go and turned to leave. “Aren’t you going to do anything about this?” I called out after him. No response. He walked on down the pathway. I followed him cautiously, back through the pouring rain. “What about evidence tampering?” I yelled, my pulse rising. He turned around and grinned. “Don’t get paid enough to care” he retorted. “Just be back in the van by 8:30 tomorrow morning.” He closed the front gate and I was left alone in my yard, staring through the rain at the disappearing figure.
A door behind me shut with a slam.
It can’t be. I ran back to the house, leaping up the stairs and inside the hall. I was met with a sight similar to what Selene had once described to me. Every drawer was upturned, the hall mirror was smashed and lying on the floor, and picture frames were tossed around the room with their images missing.
I bolted up the stairs to the bedroom. The light was off. I stood in confusion. Who had done this? It was clear that this was someone after me – and after the evidence. I made my way to the closet to sort through my valuables and Selene’s things I had still kept.
Selene’s work drawer was empty. All that remained was a hastily scribbled note.
good luck.
I stared at the note for several minutes, not sure what to make of the situation. I turned it over, hoping for some idea to strike, some plan of action, some shred of evidence. Selene would know where to look.
I glanced over at our pre-wedding photo on the bedside table.
The picture was gone.
The frame was still there, although the glass had cracked. There was another image, one I had been using as a bookmark before the wedding, stuffed hastily into the back of the frame, but crumpled and hardly visible.
I pulled it out. This was from our week-long holiday half a year ago. I smiled at the sight of Selene, those deep green eyes sparkling in the sun. We had spent the week in a country town, far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Her head was resting on mine as we stood in front of the Old Town Hall…
There was a figure in the background of the image that caught my eye. There were a lot of people behind us when we took the photo, but this one was wearing a very distinct, very uniquely yellow jumper. He wasn’t looking at the camera. He wasn’t looking at the town hall. He was looking directly at us.
I flipped over the crumpled image. There was nothing written on it. I could hardly breathe. The man in the yellow jumper had been following us long before the fire.
Suddenly I became aware that I was not the only presence in the house. I listened, my heart making louder sound than my abated breath. A single floorboard creaked. I dashed downstairs in time to see a dark, hooded figure slink through the back door and hop the fence into our neighbour’s yard.
I released a huge breath that I didn’t know I had been holding in. I clenched my fists in anger and opened the rear door, ready to chase after the shadow, but a scribbled note stuffed into the flyscreen stopped me.
“Go on, catch me. xx”
I seethed. He was toying with me. It dawned on me that I couldn’t catch the man in the yellow jumper myself. I’d be prosecuted on even more charges if I snuck out of my house now. But his notes had given me something to use as evidence now.
I headed back up the stairs to consolidate my evidence. I will catch him, I thought, for Selene.
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