Note: Hello! If you are reading this then thanks for giving this story a shot. It’s my first attempt to write a mystery/ thriller kind of story.
This story was inspired by a dream my best friend had. You can say she is my well of inspiration.
Without further ado, it begins. :)
The sirens fill the quiet air that surrounded the afternoon of our subdivision. People stand hesitantly in their front yard. In robes and pajamas.
It was a Sunday after all.
I watch across the yard along with some of the neighbors as the cop cars park across the lawn of the two-story house. Its walls were painted blue.
I look up at one of the windows. The curtains were drawn.
She wasn’t there.
I glance at the familiar and unfamiliar faces of our neighbors. Each wore a different expression. From confused faces to accusing ones and ones that tempted me to smash their faces into the pavement.
“She was a good girl. Why on earth would she run away like that?”
I hear one of them say. I try to tune them out, but I couldn’t. Running away would probably be their first and only thought. Our town was too peaceful, they say. So no one would think something else happened to her. But I knew Jasmine, she would never run away like that.
At least without giving me a heads up.
“I tell you, it’s all that Jasper boys fault. She’s been hanging around him. We all know no good comes out of hanging around with that boy. He’s disturbed.”
My hands turn to fists as I scan the area for the familiar dirty blonde who last saw her. I find him hidden behind a crowd of people. His face was emotionless. A blank stoic mask.
His dark green eyes find mine quickly before I look away. Clenching my fists more.
“Well, it’s not like that Patricia girl is better company. She’s practically a town harlot. Jasmine, bless her soul, seemed to choose the wrong company. From bad to worse.”
It hurt. I glare at the gossiping ladies a few steps away from me and, as if a force beckoned them, they turned to face me and shame washes over their features as I stare at them. After I felt satisfied that they felt enough shame, I walk away from them. It was only a matter of time before the cops were going to ask the people questions. And of course, their first stop would be our house a few lots away. Might as well save them the trouble of looking for Jasmine’s best friend.
I cross the police line, why they bothered to put that around the house was beyond me. No one was dead. And from what I have gathered, there was no forced entry as well. Before entering the house I glance back at Jasper who was no longer there.
He was officially on my suspect’s list.
“Miss, you are not allowed to be in here.”
One of the guards stop me as I enter the hallway that leads to the living room. From the corner I could see Jasmine’s grandmother, sitting on the couch. Her eyes were red. She had been crying an awful lot.
I continue to walk when a hand was placed in front of me, blocking my path.
“Miss, I must ask you to leave.” I turn to snap at the guard, glaring at him but before I could speak. Jasmine’s grandmother had called me.
“Patty dear, is that you?” She calls from the living room. The police officer sighs in defeat as he let me pass. I could have given him a smug look if I was not feeling shitty.
“Are you an acquaintance?” The detective, who sat across Jasmine’s grandma, inquired.
“She was my best friend,” I say, my voice coming out as low as a whisper. I realized my mouth had gone dry.
Jasmine’s grandma pats on the space beside her on the couch and I take a seat.
“Patty here is like Jasmine’s closest friend. These two have been inseparable since four years ago. She’s like a sister to her.” Jasmine’s grandma explains. I smile at her, although I hardly felt happy at all. Just thankful that her grandma did not see me as a suspect.
The detective nods his head but his eyes scan me suspiciously. I level his gaze as Jasmine’s grandma stands up, her whole body shaking. She was getting really old.
“I will go get you something to drink. This heat is awful. Would you like something Detective Shawn?” She asks the man, who looked to be in his forties with a beard, that sat across me. He had a notebook in one hand and he wore a dark leather jacket. T.V shows seem to be correct about the whole detective outfit.
He breaks away from his relentless staring at me to offer Jasmine’s grandmother a smile before politely declining. With that, the old lady left for the kitchen leaving me alone with Mr. Detective Shawn. I place my hands on my lap as my eyes turn to one of the picture frames on the living room shelves. It was a picture of Jasmine, she was probably twelve at the time. Her red hair burned bright under the harsh light of the sun. She was at the beach. Her smile radiated through the picture and my heart clenched.
Where are you?
“Miss Patricia Miller, was it?”
The Detective asks, snapping me away from my thoughts. I find his dark, inquisitive eyes, that seemed to look right through me. I clear my throat and give a soft nod.
“You and Jasmine close?”
Obviously. I give another nod and he writes something on his paper.
“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks and I remember we had coffee three days ago.
“Three days ago.”
He gives another nod and writes something in his notebook.
“And what did you do three days ago?”
“We had coffee. We told each other of our plans for Valentine’s day.”
Which was two days ago.
He gives another brief nod and writes.
“On that day, did you find anything peculiar? Was she acting weird?”
I try to remember our conversation. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed to indicate she was going to run away. She was bursting with energy that day. Gushing about a secret admirer who had sent her a bouquet of roses.
I shake my head at the officer as he writes on his little notebook for the nth time.
“Do you know where she was two days ago?” He asks me and I felt the guilt and embarrassment wash over me. I had not even bothered to text her that day. Since I was busy preparing for my date. God, I am the worst fucking best friend a girl can have.
After a few moments, I managed to shake my head. He gives a nod.
“Well, Mrs. Bradshaw over here says that Jasmine was at home that morning before she went out to buy some things for Valentine’s dinner with her. Jasmine was said to have been asked on a date and soon after left in the afternoon.”
I watch the detective now as Mrs. Bradshaw enters the living room with a tray holding two glasses of lemonade. She places them on the coffee table before sitting down.
Jasmine was asked on a date. She never told me who and I never asked. God, I am the fucking worst.
“Do you know Jasper Mckinley?” He asks and before I could control myself my face twisted into pure hatred.
“I take it you do not like this guy?”
I loathed him. Arrogant, cocky, playboy.
“I was never really close with him. He and Jasmine were the close ones. Though I never really knew the reason why she would even be acquainted with him.” I spat, my anger getting the best of me. If he did anything to her, he was going to pay.
“Do you think he was the one that asked her out?” He asks me as I reach for the glass of Lemonade. I was aware that Jasmine’s grandma had been sitting quietly beside me. I take a sip of the lemonade and turn to face her.
“Thank you for this, Mrs. Bradshaw.” She gives me a sweet smile before taking one of my hands and giving it a gentle squeeze before I face the detective again.
“I don’t know. They have been hanging out quite a lot recently so that could be a possibility.” I answer simply. He gives another nod and scribbles some more.
I wonder if I should tell him about the secret admirer. I shake the thought away. Jasmine would never go out with a stranger. She isn’t like that.
After a few moments and more questions the police leave, promising to call if they ever find any leads.
I stayed with Jasmine’s grandma that afternoon, not wanting to leave her and she offered me Spot, Jasmine’s golden retriever. Said she could not possibly take care of a dog all by herself, so I agreed. I’ll keep spot, just until Jasmine returns.
I walk around the house with Spot following me, wagging his tail. I stopped in front of her door, hesitating if I should open it or not. After a while, I finally get the courage and enter her bedroom.
The room was dark, despite the sunny day outside. Somehow, it seemed to be gloomy without its owner. I sit on her bed. The bed was made, and her clothes were properly folded and hung in her dresser. On her desk was the bouquet of roses. They seemed untouched and they were wilting.
I stared at the flowers, adorned with the color of blood with traces of black and brown. She did not even bother putting it in a vase.
I sigh dejectedly as I stared at the dying bouquet on her desk.
Where did you go, Jasmine?