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ALEXIS

News of Amara’s murder spread like wildfire throughout the hospital, leaving everyone in a daze. The heavy, dense fog of grief weighed on the staff like a suffocating blanket of despondence. Masking my heartbreak and pain with a cold indifference, I sat on the edge of the vacant hospital bed, letting my legs hang towards the floor; the melancholy chatter and shared condolences between hospital staff were muffled in my ears as I tried to tune them out and dissociate. Amara’s blood stained my scrubs and my hands as I sat there, fidgeting with the engagement ring I gave her on our anniversary.

Looking down at the deep green of the blood-stained emerald, I fought to keep my tears at bay. I remembered the exact moment my eyes found this ring in the display case at the vintage jewelry store that Amara loved. It was a two-carat princess cut emerald, set in gold, and surrounded by a halo of smaller emeralds. Intricate swirls and flourishes of gold swooped around the center emerald, making up the band. It was exquisite, bold, beautiful… just like my Amara. The emerald matched the color of her eyes, solidifying it as the perfect ring for the love of my life.

“Alexis Grant?” a quiet, feminine voice called from the doorway. I heard whomever it was say my name, but my mind was lost, shattering with my heart.

“Alexis?” the voice said gently, as the door to the room closed. Soft footsteps towards me pulled me out of the abyss of my psyche.

Tracing the emerald on Amara’s ring with my thumb, I was hyper-focused on the sensation of the prongs of the emerald’s setting caressing my finger as I traced circles around the stone. My eyes never left my hand as I forced myself to speak.

“Yes?” The word was barely a whisper as tears stung the backs of my eyes.

“Alexis, I’m detective Catalina Wallace, with the LAPD’s homicide unit; I will be working on your fiancée’s case and?—”

“You’ll do whatever it takes to catch her killer. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t need your fake sympathy right now, detective,” I spat. “Won’t change a fucking thing; she’ll still be gone.”

“I know this is a very difficult time, but I need you to try to tell me everything that happened before you found Miss Peterson,” she said, pulling a small, spiral-top notepad and pen from her pocket.

With a sigh, I forced my eyes to look at this detective. She tucked her shoulder-length black hair behind her ear; her sapphire blue eyes were kind and gentle as she was ready to write. There was something about her, something… calming. Fighting my tears again, I lowered my eyes back to Amara’s ring on my finger, telling her everything.

How I had the strange missed call, hearing a mystery door close as I approached Amara’s office, seeing her pool of blood forming, seeing the cord to her phone cut…

Detective Wallace took notes silently, allowing me to speak slowly, patiently giving me time to recount what happened. Suddenly, I remembered Amara’s finger on my arm… Turningmy arm slightly so only I could see, I could make out three shaky letters written in her blood on my skin.

D…A…?

“Was there anything out of the ordinary in her office besides the cut phone cord?” Detective Wallace asked, making me jump.

Why did this feel like a message just for me…? Should I tell this detective…?

“No, nothing out of the ordinary,” I said with a sniffle, rubbing it on my scrubs to erase the letters. “Both of our job duties are so different, so we don’t see much of each other during the day. She’s in the office, and I’m with my patients.”

“Can you walk me through what you did once you discovered Miss Peterson in her office?”

“I called the emergency line on my work phone and ran up to her, checking for a pulse, but noticed she was still conscious and struggling to breathe. Her… Her…” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat, trying to maintain my composure. “H-her throat was cut, and she was struggling to breathe. I tried looking around for something to help intubate her, when Dr. Sanchez came in and…”

“Okay, we can stop there, Miss Grant,” Detective Wallace said softly, as a soft knock on the door drew both of our attention. She closed her notepad and opened the door just enough to see who it was.

“Miss Grant?—”

“Alexis. I don’t need the formalities,” I interrupted, returning my attention to Amara’s ring.

“Of course, Alexis. This is Mia, one of our crime scene technicians. We need to collect your scrubs and take a few swabs for evidence. It’s standard procedure; nothing to worry about,” Detective Wallace said as Mia stepped towards me.

“Dr. Sanchez brought these for you,” Mia said with a soft smile, placing a neatly folded pile of fresh scrubs and a pair of flip-flop sandals on the foot of the hospital bed.

She was a curvy bottle blonde, with her hair piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, and a large supply bag slung over one shoulder. Her chocolate brown eyes scanned the state of my bloody scrubs as she pushed her black-rimed glasses up on her nose.

“Okay, are you ready?” Mia asked, placing her bag down and pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

“I um… I suppose so…” Scooting myself off the edge of the bed to stand, Detective Wallace pulled the surrounding curtain to block the door.

“I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable; I promise we’ll make this quick so you can go home,” Detective Wallace said, pulling on her own pair of gloves.

All I could do was nod as she approached me.