Beyond the Divorce

A Visit from the Cops

Two cops entered my office. I didn’t know what could have happened to attract the cops‘ attention. I

offered them a sweat, feeling puzzled. One of the officers asked sternly, “Do you know someone named

Kennedy Brawford?”

“Who?” I said, “I don’t know that person.”

The officer wasn’t satisfied with my response. He glanced at his colleague and said, “Show her the photo.” Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

I accepted the photo from the other officer. I saw a man who appeared to be in his twenties in the photo. He was good–looking, almost like a student. I shook my head and said firmly, “I don’t know this person.”

Suddenly, I thought about the cafe.

“Are you sure you don’t recognize him?” the officer who handed me the photo asked. He seemed

accustomed to interrogating suspects.

Displeased, I looked at him, saying, “I honestly don’t know him. I’ve never seen that man before.”

“The last call he made was to you. How can you claim not to know him?” The officer’s tone became even more severe. Then, he passed me a piece of paper with a phone number. I glanced at it and took my phone from my desk to match the phone number on the paper.

I was shocked and looked at the cops nervously. “Yes, that’s the number that called me.”

The officer took my phone and the paper to compare the numbers. “Tell us everything.”

I recounted everything to them in detail. I even mentioned Atlas’s accident because I knew hiding the truth from the cops was not an option. Moreover, Atlas’s accident could be related to this incident.

Soon after, I asked, “Officers, is something wrong? I waited three hours for that person, yet he never showed up. When I tried calling him again, his number wasn’t in service. I–I didn’t even get to meet him.”

The two officers exchanged glances, then one said, “You won’t be able to meet him, ma’am. Kennedy Brawford had a fatal accident today at 1:25 p.m. at the west end of Higney Road. He got run over by a

cargo truck

“What?!” I was stunned and in disbelief. “How could that happen?!”

The driver was drunk, one of the officers said.

But it’s so coincidental, I muttered in disbelief.

Based on the location of the accident, it seerns it occurred on his way to meet you. That’s why he

I was genuinely nervous as ! looked at the two officers. “I honestly don’t know that person. Can you tell me who he was or what he did for a living? Was he from Foswood?”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t disclose his details,” the officer replied. After taking the photo of Kennedy back, he continued, “If you remember anything about Kennedy or find unusual information, please contact us immediately. Also, it’s best to stay in the city for now to make it easier for us to investigate this matter.”

“Of course,” I nodded, still shocked by the news.

The two cops got up to leave, and I pretended to remain calm, even walking them to the door. I did this to avoid suspicion among my colleagues.

When they left, I called Grayson and explained the situation in detail. Then, I urged him to investigate. I suspected there was more than met the eye here instead of it being a mere coincidence.