The Yellow Hibiscus Chapter 20

"He's one of us."

I swayed back to Mr. Willoby, vitriol dripping from every word. "How did the fire start?" I questioned again. Shifting my gaze quickly from Willoby to Special Agent Wells, searching for any hidden agenda between them. I was hoping too that they couldn't sense my increased pulse. The memory of Juan and the fire the diamond in my possession had started were rupturing something inside me.

"We are still waiting on the Fire Department's report," he informed, with a concerned look on his face.

"It's been about three days; surely you can tell me more than that."

"I am sorry, but that's all we have right now," he unblinkingly stared into my eyes.

I averted his stare, then released, "That's not good enough for me. Maybe I should try to find out on my own!" Grabbing my bag off Captain O'Niel's desk, I headed for the door, but Willoby was parked there, blocking my exit.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Shade," Agent Wells advised.

I spun around quickly, making a few short strides towards Agent Wells, and said, "thank God you aren't me, please tell him to get the hell out of my way!"

"Miss Shade." Agent Wells's voice had taken on a stern tone. "We know something is very wrong, but we don't know who we are dealing with yet. We are in the midst of our investigation, and we could do it much better with more co-operation from you."

"But I told him everything I know!" I said, frustration peppering my voice, and I feared I'd start crying all over again. I turned toward the door, but Willoby had not moved an iota. He'd hardly said a word since he came into the room, and I was beginning to wonder who the enemy was; an unknown person or the so-called Sargeant!

"Miss Shade," Agent Wells's voice took on a pleading tone. "There's more to this than you can imagine. Simon and Helen Shade had to have a past life. That much we know. What we don't know, is exactly where they came from? Who were their families? How they come here? We can't seem to find anyone who knew them at all!"

I swang around, facing Agent Wells, then back over at Willoby. He had moved away from the exit and was coming toward me. I saw my chance.

"Didn't Mr. Willoby tell you his theory?" I asked, slithering to the left and bolting out the door before anyone could stop me.

Chapter for Vocal

Meanwhile, at the 47th Precinct on 2nd Avenue and 79th Street in New York City, Sgt. Daniel Booker sat around his desk, scanning files. A knock on his door shifted his focus away, "Come in," he ordered. His words were muffled in the middle of a sneeze.

"Bless you," Sgt. Willis said, grabbing a box of Kleenex from the top of the filing cabinet and handing it to Sgt. Booker as he entered.

"Damnit," Sgt. Booker sniffled, grabbing the Kleenex. He was in the middle of another sneeze when the phone started ringing. Wiping his nose with Kleenex, he motioned to Sgt. Willis. "Sit down," as he pressed the speaker button on the telephone, "Yes," he bellowed.

"Dan," Captain Powell, his boss' voice, echoed through the speaker. "Tell me about the fire at the flower shop?"

Sgt. Booker sneezed again.

"I see Lorna is still bothering you, eh?" Captain Powell asked. "Didn't I tell you how to get rid of her?"

"It didn't work," he quickly informed, then continued. "The victim is a 47-year-old male. His name is Juan Luiz, and he’s employed as a delivery man/ packer at "Every Bloomin Thing." The flower shop where the fire occurred. According to the Mount Sinai Regional Hospital, he is in critical condition."

"Will he live?"

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