Chapter Eight: The Gun

"I was born on May 1st, 1961."

"And your full name?"

"Carmen Dorice Doe."

The officer leaned back with a tired sigh. The bruises under his eyes was testimony that he had not seen sleep for awhile and would not see sleep anytime soon.

Tiredly, he looked down at her, perhaps a little less scrutinizing than one hour ago, eyes a little less hardened. "You know a boy at school named Richard Deeney?" he asked gruffly.

The girl squirmed in her chair. She'd sat in it for so long the wrinkles of her skirt were probably imprinted on the skin of her bottom. She glanced to the left of her to the taped off section of the hospital that read in bold black letters UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

Then she looked up at him. "I do," Carmen said without much effort.

"He's my son." His voice grated against rough unused vocals. Carmen could feel her eyebrows furrow barely.

"He mentioned your name a few days ago," he said.

Her gray eyes dropped down to the officer's name tag.

"Oh…"

Officer Deeney then shook his head, making the brim of his hat obscure his eyes temporarily. "I'm sorry about your old man."

"Is he going to be okay?" The concern came easy to her. She didn't know how she'd be able to manage the loss of another parent

"When we found him, he didn't suffer any fatal wounds. Certainly won't be awake anytime soon however." Officer Deeney looked over his shoulder, almost as though he expected someone to call him away. "But, I'll keep someone posted at his door to ask him questions about what happened."

"And no one was able to find anything in the house?" Carmen asked.

Her attention briefly followed the path of a nurse pushing a squeaking gurney across the hospital lobby and returned to see the officer nod his head.

"Your father's bedroom was a mess when we found it. His bedside drawers were thrown open. On your father's records he has a registered firearm, we assume that's what they may have taken. Thank God it wasn't used on him."

Carmen didn't want to thank God for anything yet.

"Anything else?"

The officer scratched his chin, fingernails hissed over the prickly stubble of his face.

"There was no sign of forced entry. Does your father have a habit of keeping any windows or doors unlocked throughout the day?"

"No. I'm pretty sure he rarely opens the windows to begin with and hardly goes out the back yard." Or at least, he doesn't tend to it. "I was the last one out of the house this morning and I'm certain I locked the front door."

"We did find the back sliding door opened," he said pointedly.

"That was me." Carmen admitted. She'd noticed how her tongue smacked the roof of her mouth with every word she mouthed. She was thirsty. The man in front of her could probably tell. Would he think she had a dry mouth because she was nervous? Because she had something to hide? Would that make her a suspect?

"I ran out of the house from there," she mumbled.

Officer Deeney raised a brow, but otherwise refrained from asking any further questions when a younger officer approached them.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Officer Deeney gave her a sidelong glance before he stood, tucking his clipboard under his arm. "Give me a moment, please."

Carmen nodded and watched the two policemen retreat to a secluded corner of the lobby where she couldn't see them. Her eyes averted frontward. A woman and a boy sat in the row of chairs on the opposite side of the room. Her fingers were adorned with flashy rings as they drummed against the armrest. Carmen noticed they'd been there since she arrived. They must have been pushed back because of her father.

Several minutes had passed since Officer Deeney left her and her aloneness gave her thoughts reason to fester. Carmen didn't want to think about what happened, so she started counting the tiles on the floor.

"Carmen?"

She turned her head to the curious call of her name and met the sight of a tall, lanky man with broad shoulders and pallid skin draped over a bony face. His collarbone jutted out as though he didn't eat regularly.

Carmen squinted up at him. "Who are you?"

"It's me…" he breathed and looked at her, unfocused. Incredulous. She stared at him until he blinked in understanding. His hand flew up to his forehead, he rubbed at the skin so hard the wrinkles showed. "Oh, right, you probably don't know—"

The young man faltered. When he dropped his hand, the wrinkles were still there. Carmen counted the seconds that it took to flatten out on his skin.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Adam!" Officer Deeney, emerging from his hiding spot, coming from behind him with a grin on his weathered face.

Carmen's eyes widened in disbelief. Then, she felt sad because she'd expected to see faint reminders of her mother in him, but found none besides the jade of his eyes.

So, this was her brother.

"Good evening Officer Deeney," Adam said.

The two men shook hands.

"My son was admitted in today and he told me all about it. I can't begin to thank you for what you did for Richard," the officer said.

"It was no problem at all. You might actually have to thank my father, he's the one who approves of the resumes. Speaking of, how is he? The moment I heard about dad, I drove here as fast as I could…" Adam Doe cleared his throat and added, "Granted I did abide by the speed limit, sir."

The longer she listened to him — the stranger that everyone in Haddonfield called her brother — the more open she was to admitting he had a very memorable voice, one of melodious pitch. It could belong to a choir.

Briefly, she remembered her mother sang for the chapel in St. Louis.

"Sure you did." The smirk on Officer Deeney's face dropped as fast as it had come. "This is probably the worst I've seen him, but his injuries aren't fatal — just a minor head wound. Luckily, your sister discovered him in the house."

Sister. Was that a title that she could ever get used to? Was this how orphaned children felt when they needed to learn to call strangers 'mother' or 'father'?

"We're assuming it was some damned vagrant, but we're still carrying on an investigation. So far, this guy is charged with assault and breaking and entering. I'm sure we'll find him soon enough."

Adam nodded. "Thank you, Officer Deeney."

"You two should get some rest for the night. The doctors will take care of your father and they'll inform you the moment he awakes. Maybe then, we can get the whole story." Carmen didn't miss how Officer Deeney glanced at her. Then, he smiled at Adam. "Take care of your sister, Adam. God knows she's shaken up after this."

Carmen glanced at the brother her mother had refused to speak of. What was so bad about him? Besides the fact that he looked like the wind could blow him away.

"Will do, sir," Adam replied and watched Officer Deeney depart before turning to her.

She wondered if her brother understood how uncomfortable he made her feel when he raked his gaze down her form. It travelled down her legs like the tip of a knife.