Chapter 1
I was, for once, glad for the heavy downpour that day. It muffled my frantic heartbeats and justified my shaking, cold and clammy hands. Chance was sprawled on the floor, her muddied eyes staring up towards me. I could distantly hear my own erratic breathing as I slowly stood up from the cold marble floor.
I took one last look and ran through what had just happened in my mind once again to make sure I had not left anything that could be traced back to me before walking out of the front door.
I was soaking wet as I ran to catch the bus at the bus stop opposite Chance's house, but that was far from what's on my mind. This could be the end, this could be my end. The scenery outside blurred as the bus sped up onto the highway while I sat, dazed, staring out the window as raindrops slid down and formed little streams.
Chapter 2
"Ileh, remember to be on your best behaviour!", my mother shouted from her bedroom. It had been two months since I was last at Chance's house and today was her funeral.
It was the first funeral that I would attend and I hoped that it would be the only funeral I would attend in a long time. It was also the first funeral I caused. I stood in the bathroom and looked into the mirror once again. My reflection looked clean, yet dishevelled with baggy eyes. Perfect. Although that was not the exact image I wanted to present of myself, it would work.
Chapter 3
The reception was held in the small local church with pews half empty.. I stood near the back, holding a cookie I had not touched, watching Chance's mother accept condolences from a line of people who had barely known her daughter as well as I do.
"Ileh Park?", a voice behind me called out. I turned to see a man in a cheap suit standing closer than I had expected with his badge already out. It read: Detective James, Homicide Division.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, though his eyes did not show sorrow at all. "I believe you and Chance were friends?"
"We were." I replied, keeping my voice steady and as unremarkable as possible. "A long time ago."
"But not recently?", he pressed.
"We drifted apart. Friends do not stay friends forever, detective." I said as I met his eyes and held it long enough to seem genuine.
He nodded slowly while pulling out a small notebook and continued questioning,"When was the last time you saw her?"
I had expected that question to be asked and had ran through this conversation a dozen times in my head. "Maybe... two months ago? We ran into each other at the library."
"The library," he repeated, writing it down. "And you didn't visit her house? That day or any other day recently?"
"No."
He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. "That's interesting, because we found your fingerprints at the scene."
I took a bite of the cookie, using the moment to school my expression into curiosity. Inside, my mind raced: what room, what surface, how recent could they date it?
"On a mug," he continued, watching my face. "In the kitchen. From when, would you say?"
I'll say it's the birthday in March, I had accounted for this, "Oh. Yeah, I was there for her birthday. In March. We had coffee."
"March." He wrote that down too. "So three months ago, not two."
"Right, it was three months." I answered as I let a flicker of embarrassment cross my face. "Time blurs together lately."
"And you haven't been back since?"
"No."
He studied me for a long moment, then smiled again. This time warmer and almost apologetic. "Of course. I'm just covering all the bases. You understand. Thank you for your time, Ileh. I'm sure we'll talk again."
"Of course. Anything to help."
He was fishing. Definitely fishing. The fingerprints were explainable, I'd prepared for that. But what else did he have? What had I missed?
I pulled out my phone and opened my notes app when he walked away, the one titled "Statistics Study Guide" that contained no statistics at all. Just a timeline. A list of variables. Every person who might have seen me, every surface I might have touched, every digital footprint I might have left. I had been careful. But had I been careful enough?