The Third - Short Story

By Comfort Ajibola

There was an energy she felt around him that she had never with anyone else.

Through their years of friendship even when they touched she felt a surge of electricity rush through her entire body.

Sometimes he noticed but was polite enough not to say anything and just continue the conversation they were having. Other times he seemed irritated, and she didn’t understand why. 

“What are you thinking about”, his words interrupted her thoughts as she stared at the white clock grey wall behind him, 09:15. 

“You look like you are debating”, he continued, then leaned into the metal chair.

“debating?”, I asked, my eyes on his hands. They were bleeding and cuts all over.

“Yes”, he replied, “debating whether the Anthony you knew and this guy in front of you are the same person or completely different” he smirked as her eyes met his. 

He knew she was searching for an answer. He had no idea what the question was.

“So?”, she said, taking a deep breath then folded her arms in front of her chest.

“So what?” he asked, “so which is it?”, she asked him.

“What if I am neither but also both?”, he smiled. “I don’t understand”

“I don’t expect you to”, he answered as there was a knock on the door.

A young officer opened the door and looked at her then signaled for her to step outside. She got up, taking a quick shot of him still leaning against the chair as she closed the door behind her.

“Ma’am there is no record of this man”, the officer announced. “what? What do you mean?”, she was confused by the statement. “I mean there was not a single piece of evidence that ties this man to the scene of the crime and there is no record of him even existing. No finger print, nothing.”

“Dice, are you fucking with me?”, she blurted, “We met at the scene while he was still cutting her neck up with a blunt knife, she used the scissors to cut him after he beat her to nothing. They were the only two people in the entire house for over a month. There is no way in freezing hell that he is not the one responsible”

“I don’t know what to tell you Selma” Dice shifted his stance, feeling the frustration that was building in her. They had worked this case for months. The woman who had gone missing was their only source to the underground cocaine smuggling in Windhoek.

“Whoever has him on their payroll has so major connections. They wiped him from the whole system”, dice repeated.

She rubbed her hand through her hair exasperated. “So what now?”, she asked already knowing the answer.

Dice didn’t respond to her, he just stared. She shook her head defeated and turned to door knob to open the interrogation room.

“What the hell?” Dice’s voice came from behind her. “Where is he?”, “I…He… Sitting there”, was all that came out of her mouth.

The keys rattled against the door as she pushed it open. It was late, she looked at the clock on the wall by the kitchen, 23:25.

Kicking off her shoes, she crossed the room in the open plan kitchen and stood by the sink. She took two deep breaths slowly relieving her nerves. Everything had happened so fast. She barely had time to wrap her head around it.

She loosed the buttons to her shirt as she watched the clouds pass over the moon. The streets were empty and only the street lights burned bright. She felt a cold breeze blow in through the window and it caressed her skin. She touched her soft neck and closed her eyes for a moment.

He stood in the dark, watching her. She moved so gracefully but firm. Her hands folded to her chest as she swayed her hips across the room.

Dammit. He wanted her.

He knew it the moment her set eyes on her. That was nearly eight years ago. He had always been in awe of her. How she carried herself, her drive, her fire. She had a fire like no other. And tonight, he wanted to dive right in and see if he would be burnt.

He was willing to lose everything to be with her just this once.