Everyone in the police station was looking at the woman lying on the floor.
Everyone on the scene stares at her as if they have frozen.
Dorian’s eyes were wide open, and he did not blink.
Marty crouched down next to the dead woman’s body.
He leaned forward and extended his hand to remove the hair from the woman’s face.
I was also standing in my jail cell, watching all this unfold.
I was terrified when the woman turned up at the police station.
My hands were trembling.
I took a deep breath to calm myself.
Meanwhile, Dorian’s voice echoed in my ears.
His voice was wavering.
“Do you recognize her, Marty?”
Marty shifted his gaze from the woman’s corpse to Dorian’s face.
“Yes, we know her.
She is an old lady from Abby Street.
“She was living alone, and she had no relatives,” Marty said while standing up.
“Her name is Cecil Norton,”
I burst into tears as soon as I heard it.
I started screaming.
She is my great-grand-aunt.
Is she dead?
I was crying hysterically.
I started pulling the iron bars.
Afterwards the room fell silent.
Meanwhile, Marty ran up to me and opened the door of the jail, and as soon as the door opened, I ran up to the dead woman’s corpse, wrapped my hands around her, and hugged her tightly.
My clothes were drenched with her blood.
Dorian dashed toward me and tried to separate me from her.
I was not letting Cecil’s hand go.
“Hey kid, look at me.” He tilted my chin, turning me to face him.
“Listen to me.
She is gone.
She is in heaven.
I want you to pull yourself together.
I know it is a grim time, but you must be strong,” he said with conviction.
My eyes glistened with unshed tears.
I was in shock.
I do not know what to do, but after that, I hugged him tightly.
Marty was just staring at Cecil.
Afterward, Dorian took me into the corner and asked me to sit on the bench.
I sat there quietly and started staring down at the wooden floor.
A minute later, I heard laughter.
I looked up and saw Max laughing.
Marty’s and Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise.
Afterward, Dorian walked up to him.
“What is so funny about this situation?” Dorian asked.
His voice was low, almost swallowed by the room.
Max ran his hand through his hair.
“It is funny for me because I am thanking God that I am in jail because if I were out there, you would blame me for her death,” Max said.
His voice was strong.
Dorian turns his face toward Marty.
Dorian nodded his head in frustration.
“Did I tell you that he is a narcissistic kid?” Look at him; he is a psychopath,” Dorian said.
His voice was laced with anger.
Marty walked up to Dorian.
Marty’s gaze landed on Dorian, his expressions anything but friendly.
“We have other pressing things to do here.
A body is in the police station right now.
So, just let it go.
I don’t have time for this,” Marty explained.
“I want you to get the town doctor to come here, and I will secure the scene until then.” Marty placed his hands on his head.
In the meantime, a woman stepped into the police station.
She was terrified at seeing the woman’s corpse at the entrance of the police station.
She was gasping for air.
Marty looked at her.
“What are you doing here, Lydia?” Marty spoke with authority.
Lydia’s eyes flew open with surprise.
“What happened to her?” Lydia asked.
Her voice was low, almost swallowed by the room.
Lydia pointed at Cecil’s corpse with an index finger.
“We do not know.
We are trying to figure it out.
“Tell me, why are you here?” Dorian said.
He spoke with a quiet, resonant tone.
Lydia started rubbing her hand.
“Err…
I have come to inform you that one of the houses on Power Street has caught fire.
I heard the family was in the house.
The fire brigade is already trying to control the fire before it spreads further,” Lydia said.
Her voice was laced with fear and worry.
Marty drew a long breath while placing his hands on his waist.
“Fine, we are heading there, and I am sending Frank Marshall to collect the body,” Marty said this while walking out of the police station with Dorian.
Lydia looked at me.
“Who is she?” Lydia asked.
Her voice was husky.
Dorian halted midway and shifted his gaze from the ground to Lydia’s face.
“She is Cecil’s great-niece!” Dorian yelled.
His voice was excessively loud in frustration.
“But she doesn’t have a family as far as I know,” Lydia said.
My voice dropped to a near-inaudible level.
Lydia touched her forehead and started rubbing it.
I was sobbing.
Lydia looked at me with a furrowed brow.
She reached me and sat next to me.
Lydia placed her hand on my arm.
“So, when did you come?” Lydia asked.
I sensed suspicion in her voice.
I sniffled.
“I came here last night.” I wiped tears from my face with the back of my hand.
I was going to see her, but they arrested me, and later she came here like this.” There was shakiness in my voice.
Meanwhile, Dorian came back with Frank Marshall, and they picked out Cecil’s mortal body and placed it in the car.
I abruptly stood up and dashed towards Dorian.
I clutched Dorian’s hand firmly.
“I want to go with her.
I do not want to stay here,” I said.
My voice was breaking.
The tears shimmered down my face.
Dorian looked at me with narrow eyes.
“Usually, I do not allow that, but I can make an exception for you.
Come on, get in the car.
I will drop your home,” Dorian spoke with a firm tone.
I walked out of the police station and got in the car.
Dorian grabbed the wheel and started driving the car.
We arrived at Power Street a little later, where people were already gathered.
Everyone is angry and chanting.
It looks like people are about to fight each other.
Dorian stops the car and gets out of it.
Marty was already there, trying to control the situation.
Dorian walked up to Marty.
“Hey, what is going on here?” Dorian asked.
His voice was a low murmur.
Marty clenched his fists.
His knuckle turned white.
“Look around.
Do you see these kids standing on the right side, wearing jackets from the High Crest Pack?
They are going to start with the kids on the left side who are wearing Silvercrest jackets.
I want you to just control both sides.” Marty said, gritting his teeth.
I stepped out of the vehicle and started gazing at them in silence.
A kid came forward and yelled.
“Max did it.
He burned the house down.
He killed Terry,” his voice shaking with anger.
The corners of Dorian’s mouth turned upward in a smile.
Dorian comes forward.
He raised his hands in peace.
“Hey, no one dies.
Only one house was destroyed.
It could be an accident.
So, I do not want you to spread rumors,” Dorian said.
His voice was low.
Another boy comes forward.
He has an iron pipe in his hand.
“You did it to frame him.” His emotion was frantic.
Meanwhile, Dorian walked up to them with some other police officers and tried to disperse the rioters.
I stood motionless, seemingly invisible, observing them.
A passerby looked at me.
Her voice pulled me back into reality.
“Are you new here?” The woman asked.
Her voice was steady.
She chose her words carefully.
I remained silent.
In the interim, a man’s voice echoed in my ears.
“Hailey, go home.
Your mother and I will come home later,” one of the firefighters yelled while going inside the house with Dorian.
I followed them, and the firefighter showed Marty and Dorian a corpse in the house.
“It was burned.
It was unidentifiable,” the firefighter said.
Despite the fear clawing at his throat, he spoke with a deliberate calm, his steady voice a shield against the chaos around him.
Meanwhile, I heard footsteps, and I walked around the house.
Suddenly, someone touched my shoulder, and I looked over my shoulder and saw the firefighter’s daughter.
“Hey, are you Chloe?” Hailey asked.
Her voice was firm.
I pressed my lips together in a thin line.
Without saying anything, I nodded my head in agreement.
In the meantime, Marty reached out to me.
He bowed his head for a second and then looked at my face.
“You are going with her because, after what happened, I believe you should not be alone,” Marty said while leading me to the car.
In the meantime, we observed a man engulfed in flames walking out of the house.