The One That Brought Death

The sound of the waterfall thundering onto the rocks and lots of panicked screaming was the soundtrack to her rhythm to revive this poor young man who appeared to have fallen. “One, two. One, two. Come on, dammit! One, two. One, two.” It was too late. By the time she finished her last resuscitation, the EMS had already arrived on scene, ready to move her out of the way. As she climbed up the rocks, she found what appeared to be a handheld, black notebook.

Looking back on the scene of this young man’s body, the surrounding area of red water flowing down the rocks, and the EMS preparing to transport him to the hospital, she thought about speaking up. “Hey!” she shouted as the EMTs walked by with the stretcher. “Yeah?” one of them said. He appeared tall, stocky, and had a brown mustache and neck length, thick brown hair reaching out from underneath his cap. Mesmerized by the white blanket over the body and overcome with anxiety and grief that the young man couldn’t be saved, she lowered her arm once raised in protest. “Never mind,” she confessed. The EMT just shook his head out of disgust and proceeded up the stairs toward the ambulance.

Flipping open the notebook, she almost had to shut it right away as $20 bills begged to billow out of the notebook’s covers. Holy shit, she thought. She quickly stuffed the notebook in her purse and whirled around to a disapproving glare from an elderly woman. “Greenville County Sheriff’s Office,” she said to the woman, flashing her badge. “Out of my way.”

“Ah, fuck, what am I gonna do with this?” she wondered aloud in the shower as the steam and fresh water slid down her face and made its way down her body. As a private investigator and former Police Chief, she had a duty to turn in any items found at the scene of a crime or accident. But, she wasn’t working that day. She had been a civilian enjoying the park like everyone else, when the man fell. She closed her eyes. The steam rose up her nostrils, filling her lungs with pure, warm, moist air.

“Sarah? Hello??” she opened her eyes to the sound of her sister banging on the table at the seat across from her. She looked down at her latte. The steam rising up to meet her face from the white ceramic mug. She looked across the table at her sister. The bosons of John Lennon’s voice singing “Blackbird,” reverberating across her eardrums filled her consciousness. Shaking her head for clarity, she responded, “Sorry, what?”

“Are you still thinking about the notebook? Sarah, it’s been a year.” Sarah looked out the window. It was a cold, rainy day. Her breath fogged up the window beside her cheek. Closing her eyes and facing toward her sister again, she opened them, “Abbey, there was $20,000 in that notebook.” The loud clang of the coffee mug against its complementary saucer simultaneously with her sister leaning in to whisper “are you fucking serious?” made it almost seem like Abbey mouthed the words instead of actually uttering the syllables. “Everything okay?” asked the barista as he rushed over to the table with his green apron and white, collared, polo shirt on. “Yes!” both girls answered, seemingly out of breath and wide eyed.

“Abbey, what am I going to do?” Sarah asked, putting her hands in her hair. “You turned it in, right?” Sarah’s silence was as nauseating as it was confirming to Abbey. “Sarah! Answer me!” Abbey said, tears running down her cheeks. Abbey was a police officer for the city of Greenville. She had no hand or say in any of the Greenville Sheriff’s Department’s matters. “Sis, that notebook belonged to his wife! She has a baby! She...she... she could have used that money for her own well-being! You know her house got broken into last year! Sarah, you even went on live television to speak to the news cameras about the missing notebook! The falls were searched; the whole county got involved for this notebook!” “I think I’m gonna be sick,” Sarah interrupted and quickly exited the coffee shop.

Returning to the scene of the crime one year later felt unsettling to Sarah. The once dismal scene a year ago was now relaxed, with the sounds of a woman moaning as a young couple made love under the waterfall. Unimpressed, Sarah turned around and headed back to her car. How could she have kept the notebook, after counting the money for hours and even reading the note inside?

Dearest Citrine,

If you’re reading this, I have done the unimaginable. I couldn’t help myself; the cross was too heavy to bear. Know that I have always loved you and I will always love you.

Patrick

Sarah folded the note back up and closed her eyes.

The sound of a loud buzzer jolted her eyes open. Her hands were handcuffed in the front. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit. Surrounded by policemen, she was led into a publicly viewable room. As she made her way to the wooden table with one chair, she sat down.

“Sarah Stevens?” read the officer out loud. “Yes,” she responded. She looked out the window that served as the fourth wall to the bleachers where an audience of her former colleagues were sitting. Some were heartbroken. Some got up and left, looking sick to their stomachs. There on the front row was Abbey. As Sarah made eye contact with Abbey, Abbey had tears rolling down her cheeks as she mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry.”

Sarah sighed a huge sigh of relief and closed her eyes. The past year in the South Carolina State Penitentiary had been hell, but at least it would all be over soon. She couldn’t believe her sister turned her in for lying under oath on live television and money embezzlement. Could she ever forgive her? No matter, she thought. It would all be over soon.

“I had to do it,” Abbey’s voice echoed throughout the ward. The television was playing her sister’s interview upon turning her in, a year prior. “I just felt this dark force upon me, compelling me to do it, like a curse or something.” There were news cameras among the crowd on the bleachers. The television was live in the ward, with the title:

Former Greenville County Police Chief Faces Death Penalty: Lies Under Oath, Embezzlement

As she watched the needle be injected in her bicep, she laid her head down on the table in front of her and waited for the antidote to kick in. The last year had hardened her heart. She felt no emotion.

Just emptiness.

Just the cold wood.

Just.

Lying next to Sarah’s head on the table was the little black notebook, with the $20 bills sticking out of it.