章 8: SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN

After arriving at my apartment, I suggested to Sam, "How about we each take a cleansing bath to unwind?" Sam agrees, nodding tiredly.

I head to the bathroom and start preparing a relaxing bath for Sam. I carefully select a blend of herbs and essential oils known for their cleansing and soothing properties. As the tub fills with warm water, I add the aromatic mixture, creating a fragrant bath for Sam to enjoy.

Once the bath is ready, I call out to Sam, inviting her to come and relax. She gratefully accepts, slipping into the warm water with a contented sigh. I smile as I see the tension begin to melt away from her shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.

While Sam enjoys her bath, I quietly slip out of the bathroom to prepare another one for myself. I follow the same process, selecting herbs and oils that will help me cleanse and rejuvenate after the day's events.

As I sink into the soothing waters of my bath, I feel the stress and exhaustion of the day begin to melt away. The warm embrace of the water envelops me, washing away any lingering negativity and leaving me feeling refreshed and renewed.

After our baths, Sam and I reconvene in the living room, feeling much more relaxed and centered.

"Now, can we focus on finding your husband?" I say with a smile.

"You just want to see Detective Liam O'Connor," Sam says, chuckling.

"Yeah, I miss him. But first, let's grab something to eat." I say

"Yes, please. I'm famished," Sam agrees.

"We just got paid, so what are we waiting for?" I ask as she grabs her purse, and we both head out.

An hour later, after enjoying a satisfying dinner at our favorite local diner, Sam and I decide it's time to head over to the Police Department.

The Riverdale Police Department building, well-lit and imposing, greets us as we pull into the parking lot. A spotlight highlights the bold sign above the entrance.

We enter through the sliding doors into a large, modern lobby. The walls are decorated with various awards and plaques, reflecting the department's community involvement and the floors are covered in sleek gray tiles.

At the reception, a police officer with a warm smile greets us. "Ms. Gatsby, it's been a while!"

"I'm Officer Craigsbye," she corrects herself after a slight pause.

"Oh, right. We're here to see my husband. He's expecting me," I say, signing in.

Sam leans in and whispers, "Maybe keep the personal comments low-key."

"What? He likes me, and I like him. There's nothing wrong with that."

"He doesn't like you," Sam mutters.

"Just playing hard to get," I chuckle. "He hasn't seen persistence like mine. Waited a whole month for my imaginary friend to show up after my eighth birthday, but he never did."

Our conversation trails off as our footsteps echo in the quiet of the lobby.

"You had an imaginary friend?" Sam asks, curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, Milo. Haven't I mentioned him? He was as real as they come, at least to me. I miss him."

Sam shakes her head, half amused. "After all that spooky stuff we just left, the last thing we need is talks of invisible friends."

"I talk to invisible folks all the time," I reply casually shrugging.

"Who? Actually, never mind. Just don't bring it up here. We don't need anyone thinking you belong in a psych ward." Sam whispers.

"Well, considering we run a paranormal investigation agency, they might just send us both!" I reply with a grin.

"When choosing a case, avoid the kind we had today. I'm still shaken up," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What should I look for then?" Sam asks, her eyes wide with concern.

"Something less intense. Maybe finding lost dogs or helping someone understand their past, present, or future. Definitely stay away from anything involving cats; they're often linked to darker deeds."

"People have high expectations of you because you're a witch."

"Yeah, and it's overwhelming. How am I supposed to excel as a witch if I'm still figuring out my powers?" I confess, feeling a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

"We'll figure it out together," Sam reassures me, her hand finding mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I nod, feeling slightly comforted.

"Liam!" The name escapes my lips before I can stop it. Instantly, papers scatter like leaves in a storm as Liam spins around, his gun drawn in a smooth, practiced motion.

Sam and I scream, instinctively clinging to each other as we duck for cover.

"Don't ever shout my name like that," Detective O'Connor snaps, his gun still trained on us, his eyes scanning for threats. We nod vigorously, our hearts pounding in our chests.

He lowers the gun slowly, clipping it back onto his belt with a sigh. "You two need to be more careful," he grumbles, his stern expression softening into a reluctant concern. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asks.

As I help gather the scattered papers, Sam speaks up. "I came to report my husband. He's been missing for Two years. The last time I saw him, he left with my money and never came back," she explains.

"Okay, follow me to my desk," Detective O'Connor responds, his tone professional as he leads Sam toward his workspace.

Seizing the moment, I hand him the last of the papers. "I came to see you. I missed you. Could I get your number?" I ask.

He takes the papers, his expression unreadable. "No," he replies sharply, snatching them from my hands.

As Sam starts talking about her quick wedding in Vegas, my mind wanders. I wasn't there when she made that snap decision. Unlike me, she only made one quick choice she regrets, not a bunch like I have.

Detective O'Connor keeps giving me tough looks while he listens to Sam. It's clear he doesn't like me. Maybe he feels something off about me, something I don't even know about, or maybe I upset him in the past, though I don't remember that. But deep down, I think he just doesn't like me for no big reason.

As I think about how he treats me, I decide to focus on what's important, helping Sam.

I also need to help her find her husband so she can divorce him before her parents find out. They would kill her, and they might even kill me too.. just for being alive.

They don't like me because they think I don't help Sam make good decisions, and they see me as a bad influence on her. A little part of is true but not all the time though.

The office starts to feel crowded with all of us in here—Sam, Detective O'Connor, and me.

The walls are packed with cabinets full of case files, and the air is thick with the smell of old coffee and printer ink.

Detective O'Connor is talking, but I can't focus; a cold shiver hits me, warning me that something bad is about to happen.

I glance at Sam and see she's noticed I'm not paying attention. Her eyes are sharp, questioning me silently. I give a small nod, just enough to reassure her I'm okay but not enough to make her worried.

Detective O'Connor keeps going on about the case.

Then, the lights flicker, and I clutch my amethyst necklace tighter. It's more than just a gut feeling; something really bad is about to happen. The room feels darker, the air heavier.

I've seen these signs before. Someone is going to die. I don't know how or who, but it's coming.

"Everything alright?" O'Connor asks, seeing the look on my face.

"Just a bit cold in here," I manage to say, forcing a weak smile. Sam's gaze doesn't leave me, filled with concern.

As O'Connor returns to his papers, I sit quietly, waiting for a chance to leave. I don't want to stick around for whatever is about to happen.

It's too close, and I need to get out of this police department fast.

I wish I had practiced more before starting my agency. It's important to feel confident and ready to face any challenges that come my way.

I've been trying to connect with people who have similar abilities on social media. I hoped they could give me advice and help me learn how to use my powers better.

But most of the people I found were only interested in making money from my situation, not helping me.

So now, I have to rely on old books. These books have spells, chants, and other magical knowledge that might help me understand and improve my abilities but I can't go around carrying books just like now, I need them to be able to see clearly what's about to happen.

"Oh no!" I shout, catching Sam and Detective O'Connor off guard with my sudden outburst.

"Are you ready to leave?" Sam asks, and I nod vigorously in agreement.

Sam checks with Detective O'Connor to make sure he's done, and as usual, Detective O'Connor gives me a stern look before speaking, "Sure, here's my number. Call me if you remember anything else that could help with the case," he says, handing Sam his business card.

If I wasn't so rattled, I would have snatched the card and called him later, but right now fear consumes me more than anything else.

"Thank you, Detective O'Connor," Sam says, flashing a grateful smile. I simply nod before rising from my seat.

In a sudden turn of events, the lights turn off, and the sound of two gunshots pierces the darkness.