The Trouble With Stacey - Chapter 4

"Wesley who in the what-now?" asked Senior Constable Musgrove.

I panicked. I had just mentioned my secret boyfriend's name for no good reason.

"Um.. ah… I said what ever happened to… ah, Glen Wesley? You know, the hockey player?"

I'm pretty tall for a girl, but the officer must have been at least 6'4". He peered down at me with his deep brown eyes.

"Oh, I believe he is the Director of Development for Defensemen at the Carolina Hurricanes," he said knowledgeably.

"Oh really? You're so smart!"

I know what you're thinking but flirting is a good tip if you want to make boys forget what they're doing. I pushed out my chest and gave my hair a flick. It seemed to do the trick.

"Yeah, you know I was gonna study sports psychology at college but I didn't get in," he said in what was a clear attempt to impress me. He stood there beaming for a second before suddenly looking back at his police-issue notebook.

"So," he asked, tapping his pen "when exactly did he hit you in the face?'" Unfortunately he was being all business-like again, but the good thing was he'd forgotten all about Wes. Thanks to my flirting skills!

"Well that was just before he left. He dragged Charlotte away and I said 'Stop!' That's when he hit me."

Senior Constable Musgrove wrote this down carefully in his book. He asked me a few more things too, like what the kidnapper looked like. Just as Wes had advised I kept the description extremely vague. When I cried again the Senior Constable decided that I'd had enough questioning and that the ambulance staff should check me out.

They put some ice on my now swollen face and talked about me like I wasn't there. The two female paramedics had a quick conference and decided to take me to hospital. After being taken to the waiting ambulance, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. My mind kept thinking about poor Wes burying little Charlotte's body. I was still dwelling on it when Mum came and saw me at the local hospital.

"My darling, are you OK? Oh my God, your face!" My Mum gets over-protective at the best of times, but when she senses something is going wrong she goes into overdrive. "My poor darling Stacey, are you OK?"

Sometimes I think of my emotions as though they're part of a huge contraption in a mad scientist's laboratory. There are dials everywhere, each one for a different emotion; happiness, sadness, anxiety, confusion and so on. I think if there was a dial for guilt it would have been in red when we killed Charlotte and probably from would have exploded during some point while being questioned by the police. Now, however, while I was getting sympathy from Mum after being part of a manslaughter cover up, it felt as if my guilt dial had imploded and could open a hole in the space time continuum which would threaten to destroy the universe.

"Yeah, I'm OK." I offered weakly. Mum wouldn't take that for an answer though, and was still fussing over me when Dr. Johanssen walked into my room. For whatever reason, I had completely blocked out the thought that I might have to face Charlotte's Mum. My heart was in my mouth.

"Oh Stacey," she said, almost in tears "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen!" The guilt was almost too much to bear. I couldn't believe Dr. Johanssen was apologising to me!

"No I'm sorry! I'm sorry about Charlotte, I'm… I'm…." I had to stop myself from going into too much detail. My brain kicked into gear and I just shut up. Seconds later a police officer, who I had never seen before, came to escort Dr. Johanssen away, presumably to ask some questions.

I cried some more before Mum went to get me a drink, but I must have passed out from exhaustion at some point because the last thing I remember was staring out the window into the lonely night, hoping that Wes was OK. I didn't wake up for almost 14 hours and when I did I immediately wished I could go slip back into blissful unconsciousness.

To be continued…