GUILTY 12

I’ve never been in an interrogation room before. It’s cold and I wish I’d brought a sweater. I’m offered a glass of water but I decline. A woman I don’t know is setting up a video camera. Detective Sullivan walks in, sits across from me at the table. ‘Gerald, please,’ I beg. ‘Let me go home.’ ‘We just need you to answer some questions for us.’ ‘Okay.’ I sit up straight, adjusting in the hard, metal chair. ‘Ask me anything.’ He clears his throat, states the date, time, and who is in the room. Then he begins. ‘Let’s start from the beginning. I want you to tell me everything that happened on Thursday May 18th, from the moment you woke up, to the moment that Emerald went missing.’ I stare at him. ‘I’ve already gone over this. Multiple times.’ ‘Please.’ His eyes will me not to argue. ‘Okay,’ I say. I take in a breath. ‘I woke up at the usual time, seven - forty - five. I checked on Emerald, who was already awake and sitting up in her crib, and put her in the playpen. Winston watched her while I showered quickly, then we switched and I fed her breakfast.’ I pause, gathering my thoughts, ‘Winston left for work around eight - thirty. I made some oatmeal. I start work at nine, so I put Emerald in the playpen beside my desk and got to work. She’s a good girl - hardly ever cries or fusses. She’s content just playing on the floor with her toys,’ I smile, remembering. ‘I took her to watch some cartoons for a little bit around ten - thirty - ‘ ‘But you didn’t log out.’ ‘No, it was just for ten minutes or so. To calm her down.’ ‘She was upset?’ ‘She was getting fussy. Crying a little bit. So we watched Mickey Mouse for a bit, then I changed her diaper…. Do I need to go into details?’ ‘Just tell me everything that happened.’ I nod my head. ‘I went back to work, Emerald in her playpen beside me. We ate lunch around noon. I had a sandwich, and Emerald had some apple sauce and mashed up berries.' ‘What time did you log out for lunch?’ ‘Around twelve o’clock. That’s what time I usually take my break.’ ‘Records show that you logged out at eleven - forty - eight.’ ‘Okay…” Twelve minutes before noon. My apologies.’ ‘Every minute counts, Mrs Waters. Especially since you logged out and never logged back in.’ ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘You logged out at eleven - forty - eight and there is no record of you logging back in.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Oh,’ I pause, trying to collect my thoughts. ‘I must have forgot,’ ‘So you claim to have been working that afternoon?’ ‘Yes, I worked until around two - thirty. Then she started getting cranky so I put her down for a nap. Or was it three?’ I pause. ‘No, it must have been two - thirty …’ ‘In your original statement you say two - thirty.’ ‘Yes, sorry, It was two - thirty. I was a bit tired myself. I knew that nobody needed me urgently at work, so I sat on the couch for a moment. I must have dozed off. I didn’t wake until Winston got home and was calling my name.’ ‘As your initial statement goes,’ ‘Yes, because that is what happened. You think I’m lying?’ ‘I just find it odd that you never logged back into work.’ ‘As I told you, I must have forgot, I guess I was more exhausted than I thought.’ ‘Pretty convenient, isn’t it?’ My eyes dart up and meet his. ‘What’s convenient?’ ‘That there is five hours of unaccounted time, and you just happened to be exhausted.’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ ‘I’m going to ask you this once,’ he says. ‘Did you kill your daughter, Mrs Waters?’ My eyes widen. ‘No,’ I fight to keep my voice calm and composed, despite the fact that my body is on fire. I DID NOT KILL MY DAUGHTER. I have not seen my daughter since yesterday at two - thirty p.m., Thursday May 18th, And she was perfectly content, in her crib sleeping.’ He eyes me, unsure of how to proceed. ‘Am I being arrested?’ I ask. ‘Not at his moment.’ ‘Then can I go?’ He hold my gaze. ‘We’re finished here, for now. But I don’t think I have to remind you that this is far over. We’re watching you, Danny.’ His words are cold as ice. ‘Don’t go too far, now.’ So I don’t. I don’t go far at all. Where else would I go other than home? I’ve not been home thirty minutes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s nearly seven o’clock and I dread opening the door to more officers coming in to interrogate me. I left the police station feeling shaken up and horrified. My stomach is in knots and I have a pounding headache. It’s one thing to have your daughter go missing - that’s enough stress and upset for one person to handle. But being accused of murdering your only baby? I can’t put into words how that feels. I had just made myself a cup of tea to calm my nerves, settled onto the couch, when I hear the knocking. I find this very concept odd since officers have just been walking in and out of our home for the past couple of hours at their own accord. I tilt my head sideways, wondering if I should answer it or if someone else will. A few officers are posted around my home, monitoring me. The one’s I know by name, Matt Holden, the one who accused Winston of being a serial cheater. Charles Ashby, who took my statement last night and uses an accusing tone while speaking with me. And the newest member to the clan, Detective Claire Robbins, the blonde who cuffed me and smiled. Along with her came Sgt Olivia Sol, who has remained neutral on her assumptions about me. What a lovely little gang we have here. My thoughts are answered when Detective Robbins struts towards my front door and opens it wide, allowing an older man to come inside. Great, as if there weren’t enough people here already. He smiles at her as he removes his jacket, revealing a dark green sweater vest. He wears small spectacles that cover his eyes, and his hair is beginning to grey slightly. He must be in his early sixties, at least. I keep my eyes focused on him, wondering who he might be since he’s clearly not an officer. As if reading my mind, he looks my way and our eyes meet. I hold his gaze. He smiles, a friendly, welcoming smile. He turns to Detective Robbins and begins to speak, although what he is saying in unknown to me. She nods and the man begins walking towards me. ‘You must be Danny,’ he smiles as he stands in front of me. ‘May I?’ he gestures to the chair. I nod. ‘I’m Doctor Eilsteen,’ He sticks his hand. I hesitate before shaking it. ‘Did they invite you here?’ I nod towards the officers. ‘They did. I’m here to chat with you, perhaps monitor you for the night, if that’s alright with you.’ Upon watching my mouth open in protest, he begins speaking again. ‘Due to your history over these past few months, Detective Robbins felt It was best that you had someone here with you.’ ‘I’m sorry, what is this? Are you here to baby-sit me because you don’t think I’m stable enough to handle things on my own? Where is Doctor Kelvin? He’s my Doctor. He’s been here for the past six months. He’ll tell you that I’m fine.’ ‘Doctor Kelvin is not at liberty to be with you right now. He’s waiting to be questioned.’ ‘By the police? They think he had something to do with this?’ ‘Easy now,’ he smiles. His words flow steadily through a calm and collected voice, ‘The police are doing everything they can do to find your daughter, Danniella. Doctor Kelvin worked very closely with both you and your daughter over the past six months. Of course they’re going to question him. I’m not saying that he’s guilty or had anything to do with Emerald’s abduction at all, but we can’t have people who were so involved in your life making critical decisions regarding your well - being at this stage.’ ‘Right, only you can do that.’ He smiles again. ‘May I ask you some questions?’ ‘I just got home from being questioned, actually. In an interrogation room at the police station.’ I snap. He stares at me, eyes sympathetic. ‘But if you feel the need to ask more, then please, go right ahead.’ He clears his throat and cranks his neck slightly, adjusting in the seat. ‘I Understand you suffered from a very severe postpartum psychosis. That must have been very difficult for you,’ ‘Is that a question or are you telling me?’ ‘It was a question.’ ‘Yes, it was difficult, You Can’t imagine what I went through.’ ‘I’ve worked with many patients who have suffered from postpartum psychosis and much worse,’ he explains. ‘But I’ve also seen many of my patients get better. They’ve progressed so well with their lives that they hardly ever remember their postpartum days.’ ‘Okay,’ I pick at my nails, from nerves, out of habit. ‘How did you initially feel when your daughter was born?’ I pause for a moment, considering how to answer his question. ‘I felt that she wasn’t really mine. I didn’t want her.’ ‘And after your extensive therapy with Doctor Kelvin, would you say those thoughts and feeling changed?’ ‘Yes, Yes, of course. I was cleared to go back to work over two months ago. I’m fine now.’ ‘How do you feel about your daughter now, Mrs Waters?’ I raise my eyebrow. He’s treating me like a suspect. I know my honest feelings towards Emerald, Tolerated. That’s how I feel about her. Whenever she’s around, I simply tolerate her. I anticipate the days that Marcia comes over to watch her, and I loathe the times that I am alone with her. My head feels like it might explode every time I hear her cry. But I tolerate it. I don’t snap, I don’t cry. I’m much better now. I know how to deal with these thoughts. Healthy and new. My depression and anxiety are gone. So are all of the Bad Thoughts. Doctor Kelvin was very pleased with my progress. I accepted the fact that Emerald will be a part of my life for a long time. That doesn’t mean I’m ecstatic about it, but I tolerate it. That’s all I need to do. But I’m sure as hell not going to tell this man that. ‘I love my daughter,’ I state proudly. ‘I would never do anything to hurt her.’ ‘I wasn’t implying….’ he pauses. ‘But what are your feelings towards her?’ ‘I Already told you my feelings, I love her. She’s my pride and joy. What else do you expect me to say?’ ‘Well, some mothers might describe their feelings towards their child as admiration, magical, a beautiful bond, their entire life.’ ‘Yeah, she’s the apple of my eye. I’ve had a difficult six months, I don’t know what else you want me to say.’ He pauses for a moment, then readjusts his glasses. ‘Mrs Waters.’ he begins, ‘Have you been feeling stressed or overwhelmed lately?’ ‘No.’ I answer without hesitation. I know where he’s going with this. ‘Sometimes the first few months can be hard. It’s a difficult transition, switching from such an extreme lifestyle and getting back into the swing of things with your old life.’ ‘I’m fine, really, Work is good. I love my job.’ ‘That’s good, You’re with District Systems, correct?’ ‘Yes, I’m the IT manager. I oversee all the big projects, decision making and such……’ TO BE CONTINUED…..