Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 38

Before she could finish her sentence, the door to the interrogation room slammed open and a portly man marched in with an expression like a thundercloud. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, his voice barely above a whisper but his tone was laced with menace as both detectives turned to see who had so boldly interrupted them.

“Mr Montague,” Detective Oglivie began as he got up, stepping forward with his hand half outstretched in greeting.

“Both of you, out, now,” Charles Montague continued without acknowledging the male detective other than to lump his presence in with Detective Mersey’s.

“I will be speaking with your captain,” the lawyer continued as he watched the detectives gather the files on the table. “How dare you take Miss St Peter without consulting Mr Devreaux. How *dare* you interrogate her without Mr Devreaux or myself present. She is a minor, god dammit.”

“It’s not an interrogation,” Detective Oglivie tried to assure Charles without success.

“You cannot speak with her at all without permission from a parent or guardian. *Did you get permission*?”

“We spoke with her social worker,” Detective Mersey told Charles.

“Her social worker is not her current parent or guardian, Detective.”

Charles closed the door with a touch more force than necessary once the detectives had vacated the room. Turning to Vivian, he took note of her state and let out a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Miss St Peter,” he began as he moved closer.

Vivian shook her head, causing him to stop in his tracks. “Vivian.”

“What’s that?” He asked, moving again as he passed her a tissue, which she used to wipe her mouth with a shaking hand.

“Call me Vivian.”

“Okay, Vivian. Are you alright? What do you need right now?”

“I want to go home.”

“You will. Your father is on his way and will take you home.”

Vivian made a face at that information, wondering how bad her scolding was going to be; she’d broken one of the rules, after all. It didn’t matter she’d been told by the detective her father would be informed since she was supposed to do it herself.

Today was not a good day.

“I need to ask you what you and the detectives talked about, what they asked you, and I’ll need you to be specific, but it can wait until you get home, alright? I’ll stop by this evening and you can tell me all about it then. Is that alright with you?”

Vivian gave a jerky nod. “Okay.”

“Good, good. Why don’t we go wait for your father in the lobby, hmm? This room is kind of dismal.”

“What about…”

Charles shook his head. “They can clean up their own mess, Vivian. This isn’t your fault. Come on, up you go.”

Skirting around the puddle of bile, Vivian finally found her school bag on the floor near where Detective Mersey had been sitting. Had Detective Oglivie somehow grabbed it when he’d dropped off the hot chocolate, moving it out of reach? And why?

Vivian looked over at the cup still sitting on the table, and in a fit of anger and immaturity, she reached over and knocked it onto the floor. The action brought a small chuckle out of Charles as he watched.

The cup was still rolling on the floor as he opened the door, gesturing for Vivian to step out first.

Body still shaking, Vivian stepped into the hall and looked around, not really seeing anything. A gentle hand pressed on her shoulder, making her jump. “Come on,” Charles gruff voice reached her ears as he gently steered her in the right direction.

No one stopped them, no one bothered them at all as they walked to the lobby where Charles had her sit on an uncomfortable plastic chair where she hugged her school bag in silence.

He stood just in front of her, taking out his phone to check his messages. “Shouldn’t be long,” he assured her to little effect.

In Vivian’s mind she’d jumped out of the fire and into the frying pan. The detectives had been horrible, but her father would not be pleased with her disregard for his rules.

If she could just go back and send out that text letting Samuel know what was going on this could have been avoided. He’d have read it and stopped her from going, or called Charles to get here earlier.

Except… Vivian couldn’t help but be thankful she’d screwed up, otherwise she wouldn’t have ‘met’ Detective Paul Oglivie.

Not that that was the name he’d used back then.

If she hadn’t come here today she might have never learned he was still alive; that she hadn’t killed him eight years ago.

*I’m not a murderer*, her brain kept repeating now that she was out of the interrogation room, the thrum of background conversation almost soothing to her ears.

Her father’s lawyer produced a bottle of water from somewhere, giving it to Vivian who was thankful as her throat felt raw.

It was slowly becoming easier to breathe the more time passed without anything happening, with no one needing her attention.

By the time Charles spoke again Vivian’s body had stopped trembling and her breathing had regulated. It still felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest, but she could easily keep that knowledge to herself. “He’s here. Come on, Vivian.”

Again the lawyer placed his hand on her shoulder and, just as gently as before, steered her out the doors and into the afternoon sun.

Squinting at the change in light, Vivian noted the car idling at the curb, her father getting out of the driver’s side and making his way to where they now stood.

“Mr Devreaux,” Charles greeted him with a nod.

“Charles,” Samuel returned with a nod of his own. “Vivian, are you alright?”

She nodded instead of speaking, not trusting her voice.

“Make them regret it,” was all her father said to his lawyer before guiding Vivian to the car. He hesitated as he reached for the front passenger door, changing his mind and opening the rear passenger door instead.

Silently thankful he’d noticed she preferred the backseat, Vivian slid inside and buckled herself in.

She predicted the drive home wasn’t going to be a good one and her arms tightened around the school bag in her lap at the thought of what was to come.

It was hard for Vivian to explain why Samuel’s disappointment in her was such a bad thing when she’d never cared about how her previous families had thought of her, but the Devreauxs were different. Maybe because they were biological family? Or because they gave her space but also included her in whatever was going on?

They seemed to legitimately care about her, unlike the others who wanted to care but never quite managed it.

Was it her fault for being so standoffish towards them? Probably. But they’d never given her the feeling of belonging like the Devreauxs.

Would this change how she was viewed by them? Would they hold it against her? Would they send her back?

“I’m sorry.”

Startled, Vivian looked up to meet Samuel’s eyes in the rear view mirror. Why was he apologizing? She’d been the one who’d screwed up.

Seeing her confusion, Samuel broke eye contact and gazed at the road ahead. “This should’ve never happened, Vivian. And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to prevent it.”

“… I don’t understand,” she finally managed to get out, grip tightening on her school bag. “I didn’t… I’m supposed to tell you where I’m going and I didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your… your rule. I’m supposed to tell you where I’m going and with who, if it’s different from my usual routine.”

The light chuckle that came from him brought a frown to Vivian’s face as she tried to understand why he wasn’t mad.

“You’re still a child — almost an adult, really, but still a child — and a police officer, or in this case a detective, started talking to you. Most of the time, that would never lead to a bad situation because they’re supposed to serve and protect. You put your trust in them when you should be able to, and they broke it. That’s on them, not on you.

“Because you’re a minor, they must to ask *me* for permission to speak with you, which means *they* were legally obligated to contact me about it, not you. If an adult is supposed to let me know something about my kids and doesn’t, it’s on the adult, not the child.”

From what she could see of his face in the mirror, Samuel looked calm, but his knuckles on the steering wheel were white and there was a thread of anger in his tone.

It still wasn’t registering for Vivian. He’d been adamant about consequences when rules were broken — though he’d never given an example other than a drunk tank sleepover and community service coupled with a fine.

Maybe it was because they’d been asking about Gabriel that changed things? Looking out the window, she frowned. Did Samuel know the police were interested in his middle son? Was that why Vivian wasn’t in trouble?