The glass of water sitting beside me dripped with condensation. The droplets added to the thin rim formed at the base of the cup, creating a small pool. I traced a finger down the side of the glass, creating a streak of clarity. 

The man I had thought was trying to kill me sat across from me. Though we sat at his desk, cluttered with paper, pens, and the occasional bobble head, he pulled his chair over so that nothing stood between us. I followed the outline of his loosely crossed legs to the bright socks pulled up past his ankles. They had cartoon French bulldogs on them. The glimpse of silliness behind his status as a detective was what probably lured me into following him to the police station. Not that I had much of a choice. 

Without the idea that he was going to kill me biasing me, I realized how good natured the detective's face was. His face was round, giving his features a childish quality. The wide set of his eyes only magnified that. I had seen him smile at someone when we entered the station together and saw he must have had the world's deepest dimples. He was youthful and I could tell from the way the older officers stared at him, he was one the younger of the bunch. 

He leaned over in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. I wanted to lean back. It felt like we were too close, like he could see me too well. 

"As I previously stated, I am Detective Mac." 

I still wanted to giggle when he said it. The name Mac reminded me of mac and cheese. It was slightly embarrassing to think I had been afraid of someone called Mac. It was like running from a man named Bubbles.  

All Detective Mac had said when he stopped me from racing out of the market was that he wanted to ask me some questions about Adonis's case. He hadn't mentioned how he had been following me around and I didn't know if I should let him know that I noticed him. He hadn't lied to me yet but there was something deceptive about how little he was saying. If he really wanted to have a chat about Adonis, he could have called to schedule a meeting or dropped by the house. He had been following me, purposefully trying to go undetected, for a reason. 

"Are you listening?"

With a jolt, I realized Mac had been talking. I turned beet red. 

"Sorry." 

He sat back and rested an arm along the table's edge. "You know what? Let's be frank with each other." 

His tone had taken on a casual nature that got the looks of a few surrounding officers. I was certain that despite having their heads buried in paperwork, they were all listening. People had to be coming in and out of this station all the time. What made this case or interaction particularly interesting? 

"I was following you around today," Mac said. "But you knew that already. You knew since the library." 

I stiffened. My hand grasped the arm of my chair tightly, the adrenaline of thinking I was in danger still lingering. I stared at the chips in my nail polish like they would tell me what to say. He would ask how I knew. Was it a good idea to tell him about the anonymous caller? 

"Am I that bad at my job or did someone tip you off?" 

"Why were you following me?" I must have taken Mac's statement about being frank seriously because I rambled on and on. I wanted him to know he couldn't play around with me. I wasn't stupid or naive. "You must be watching my whole family. There's no reason to single me out. You think we know something about Adonis's alleged drug trafficking - you might even think we were a part of it." 

His eyebrow quirked. "Are you?" 

"No." 

Mac sat back in his chair, slouching. It made me feel as though we were friends discussing everything over coffee. I wondered if this man knew what he was even doing. 

"So, you didn't answer my question. How'd you know I was following you?"

I couldn't lie. I didn't want to be caught in one and despite how the anonymous caller introduced themselves as a protector, the person following me was part of the law enforcement. It seemed that the wisest decision was to trust the cop. 

"Someone called me and told me." At this, Mac sat up straighter. "I don't know who they were. They wouldn't say and their voice was disguised. They said they were protecting me and that a man with a gun was following me." 

Mac reached for the notepad on his desk and a pen from the cup full of them. "Tell me everything they said." 

After recounting every line of my phone conversation in detail, repeadley, Mac and I were both sitting more relaxed. I had brought my knee to my chest to rest my chin on top of it, watching as Mac wracked his mind for any thing he might have missed. He scratched at the stubble on his chin, then the stubble on his cheek. Seemingly satisfied, his brown eyes met mine again. His stare was very analytical but not judgemental. 

I had taken my cardigan out of my tote bag while he was scribbling away furiously. The room was air conditioned so well that any hint of the sweat stains that had been under Mac’s armpits before we arrived were gone. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms. I pulled my cardigan further up my shoulder.

By the way this was going, I was worried I wouldn’t beat my family home. They would know I was out and by how scatterbrained I’d be, they’d know something happened. I already knew sleep would become nearly impossible. How could I peacefully rest when I knew someone was watching me - to protect me or not?

“Let’s say this person was trying to protect you as they said they were,” Mac said, placing the pen behind his ear. He held onto his notepad tightly, waving it around as he spoke. “Why you? I have followed your other family members around and they carried on as if nothing was going on. They let me back them into dead ends and desolate areas. No one was telling them to watch out.” 

A curious part of me wondered what he saw while he followed my family around. Was there anything unusual? Anything to support his obvious theory that they knew more about the drug trafficking than they had previously let on?

“It depends who the anonymous person is or who sent them. The way they phrased things made it seem like it was their literal job.” I was only saying what came to mind but Detective’s MAc’s eyebrows shot up into a eureka! position. 

“Someone hired to protect you . . .” he mused, trying it out on his tongue. “That works. If someone has eyes on you 24/7 they’d notice me fairly easily. Maybe they weren’t sure who I was and didn’t want to intervene and blow their cover without having to. That means they’re expecting to be following you for a while.” 

I knew what his next question would be before he said it. 

“Who would want to protect you enough to hire a professional to do it?” 

I liked to think the list was long but I didn’t have a chance to try and make one before Mac leaned forward in his seat once more. 

“Would Adonis?” 

“He’s dead,” I stated. Mac didn’t comment on my new found knack for stating the obvious. 

“It would have to be before he died. He anticipated someone coming after you and you alone or he only cared to protect you.”  I was already shaking my head, unable to follow his theories when they were all built on the principle of Adonis being guilty. Then all my mental protests were cut short by Mac’s change in expression. His eyes widened, a faint smile forming on his lips. It was a subtle change but it was there. The emotion behind it was something like disbelief. 

“Did Adonis have a reason to protect you more than anyone else? More than his own wife?” 

I dropped my leg from my chest and crossed my arms over myself. Detective or not, Mac was very readable. I could tell exactly what he was getting at, what he began to assume. I couldn’t blame him. If it was true that Adonis hired someone to protect me before he thought to hire someone to protect Nancy, then a very heavy implication hung in the air. No matter how close we might have been, it had to be Nancy first. She was the girlfriend, the fiance, then the wife. It reminded me of a tiny blip in time where it hadn’t been that way. A fragment of my life so hidden, tucked under the mattress of mind, that I never dared to revisit it. Mac was forcing me to relive it. 

It was my sister's college graduation party. 

We hosted it at our house. It was nothing like what I imagined when I thought of college students throwing a party. There was no beer or stroke lights, or weed or crazy loud music. There was no possible way my aunt and uncle would tolerate any of that under their roof. Though, they had politely excused themselves from the house that night so it wasn’t like they would know if all that stuff was done. The real reason the party was tame was because Nancy was never that kind of party girl. Nancy liked the wine and dine kind of party. 

The basement was transformed into some kind of a banquet hall. Several foldable tables were dressed in white cloth, with center pieces made of flowers and gold ribbon. Plates with silverware perfectly folded in cloth napkins were placed in front of every seat, cards with names on them creating a seating chart. To brighten up the basement’s dark walls, white and gold streamers were hung up. A banner with their graduating class year on it was draped in front of the stairs leading outside the basement, the railings intertwined with even more ribbon.  There was a space cleared for dancing and a large speaker waiting for use but no dance music was played until late in the night. Before then, the speaker played violin and piano melodies. 

Since I was never going to experience my own graduation party seeing as I was completing my education online, Nancy let me stay for this one. I didn’t think it would be a whole lot of fun. I didn’t know any of Nancy's friends and she’d be too busy to introduce me to them. I was relying on Kimberly’s attendance to make the night fun. 

Then, at the last minute, she texted to let me know she couldn’t make it. 

As soon as I read the text I was filled with dread. As Nancy’s guest began to arrive, I hid myself  in the backyard. It was night and the darkness was enough to conceal me. I sat in a chair, scrolling through my phone aimlessly. My off shoulder evening gown suddenly felt too tight, my perfume too sweet. My phone showed me my reflection. The false eyelashes looked ridiculous, my updo looked too stiff, and my lipstick too bold. Like a woman possessed, I was yanking out the eyelashes, shaking out my hair and rubbing at my lips. 

I was so concentrated that when the screen door slid open I nearly screamed. I was terrified of how strange I’d look sitting out there all by myself. I put on a fake smile, ready to give out an excuse as to why the hostess’s weird little sister was sitting all alone in the yard making a mess of herself.  

A man with unruly curls that went down his neck and a loose fitting white button up stumbled onto the deck. He was more frightened to see me as I was to see him. He knocked back into the glass door that closed behind him, lifting up his hands in defense. Then his chest collapsed as he let out a sigh, cursing under his breath and placing a hand over his heart. 

“I didn’t think anyone would be out here,” he said, sounding breathless. I noticed how his lips were heart shaped and full. They were the most beautiful lips I had ever seen. Then, desperate not to let an awkward silence come about us, I laughed. 

“For a second, I thought you were going to have a heart attack.” 

“Well, yeah-” he said, laughing along with me. It was a boyish sound, light and bubbly. “I thought you were La Llorona.” 

My mouth fell open in offense. It was hard to remain offended though, when his expression indicated anything but malice. He was being playful, familiar even though we had only just met. “La Llorona as in the ghost who drowned their own children, urban legend, Llorona?” 

“Can you blame me? You got the white dress, the long black hair and the light from your phone made you look so pale.” He stepped closer to me and his grin faltered. He stared at me quietly for what felt like forever. I worried I had makeup smeared on my face or something in my teeth. 

“No,” he said, a moment later. “Now that I see you better, you don’t look like La Llorona.” 

Something in my stomach fluttered. I wanted desperately for him to look away but at the same time, I thought I would wilt if he did. 

“Do you . . . do you want to sit?” I asked, pulling out the plastic chair beside me. 

He bowed his head and then joined me on the side of the deck where people couldn’t peer out to see from. It was just us alone in the dark, the only light coming from the kitchen inside. We sat in silence, listening to the crickets chirping. Then I realized I had no idea why this man had come out to the deck in the first place. 

“What brings you out here?” I asked. The sounds of people chatting was barely audible from their spot downstairs but every now and then I’d hear footsteps, the groan of a door, or the clatter of a plate. We could have hid out there all night and never been spotted. I knew Nancy wouldn’t notice my absence. She had a basement full of people to impress. 

“I wanted some air,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “This thing is kind of stiff and I don’t actually know the host, Nellie, that well. I’m more of a plus one than anything.” 

My giggle turned into a cackle as the name sunk in. Nellie. Nancy would hate that. 

“What is it?” he asked, a trace of a grin on his face. He seemed humored at the sight of my own fit of laughter and eager to join in. 

“Her name is Nancy,” I corrected. 

He chuckled. “Oh, that does sound better. Isn't Nellie a popular horse name?” 

He began to laugh harder too. The more we thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Then we were laughing because surely some woman on the planet was named Nellie and would find our disgust at the name offensive. 

“She does sound like a horse when she laughs in front of people she wants to impress,” I added, rolling my eyes. As if on cue, a horse-like howl erupted from deep inside the house. Needless to say, we were doubled over in laughter. 

I heard the ring of someone tapping on a glass. I knew from her meticulous planning of the event, it meant Nancy was calling everyone to their tables for the start of the first course. The man glanced back at the house, proving he had heard the call too. He surprised me by not making a move to go back inside. Instead, he slid his chair closer to mine. 

I watched him with something like wonder as he pulled out his phone and placed it in front of me. “Have you ever played checkers?” 

I shrugged. “A few times. Why?” 

“There's a mobile app for it. If you’re up for the challenge,” he said, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. 

We spent about an hour playing checkers. He beat me every time but it didn’t make the games any less fun. He was a talker. Though he didn’t need to, he delighted in psyching me out with confident monologuing. In hindsight, I could see he could have won a lot quicker but would let me get a little bit ahead to make it more interesting. 

When we got hungry, the dinner portion of the night was already over, with all the attendants chatting in the living room. It would look awful if we stuck into the kitchen to scrape around for seconds so I snuck us some microwaved pizza bagels to eat on the tiny ledge of the roof outside my bedroom window where no one would see us. 

He told me about his love of cars. He named every single car model parked on our block just to show off. Then he told me about how his father left his family all alone, how his mother clearly had a hard time loving children that reminded her of her lost love. In the cloak of the night he marveled out loud about the complexity of family - how you could share DNA with someone and despise them while loving someone who doesn’t share your blood. He told me how he wanted to be loyal to both either way. It struck a chord with me though I wasn’t as eager to share why. 

I loved his mind. I liked the way he thought. I liked how eloquently he could share what he thought. 

I told him about my creative writing class and how it felt scary but strangely natural to be writing my own stuff. After his instience, I showed him a short story I was working on. He remained silent for a long time after reading it and I assumed that meant it was bad but when the headlights of a car illuminated our figures, I saw his eyes were glassy. 

He reached over and tapped his finger on my temple. 

“Magic,” he said. “Your head is full of magic.” 

He asked me to go to the arcade with him. The local arcade was not far away and he reckoned we’d be back before my sister noticed I was gone. I agreed, telling him to wait outside as I grabbed my hoodie. 

As I rummaged through the closet in the hall for my favorite hoodie and maybe some perfume, my sister walked by. She paused in front of the mirror hanging on the closet’s door and smoothened out her dress. Then she gave me a strange look. 

“What’s with that giddy look on your face?” she asked. 

I pulled my hoodie over my head to hide my blush. Ignoring her question, I said, “I'm going to step out for a little bit. I won’t be gone for long.” 

Nancy crossed her arms. “A nice boy wouldn’t ask you out at the last minute and at this time of night.” 

“Boy?” I gaped. How could she have spotted us? I turned to the mirror to fix my hair but was distracted by her lingering. 

“I know that look. Trust me, Mickey. I know how this ends.” She caught a glance at her own reflection again, spinning around to check how her dress was fitting. “Besides, you of all people should be the most careful with these things. What happened with our father really messed you up and you still aren’t over it. No one wants a relationship with that kind of baggage.” 

I turned around, shocked at how she could mention something like that in passing. Maybe it meant she was stronger - that it didn’t hurt to mention our father casually anymore. 

Nancy grabbed a hold of my arms and squeezed them. “I love you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Nancy’s words of warning rang in my head over and over as I trudged down the stairs. They wrapped themselves around every insecurity I had until I was almost in tears. I didn’t meet Adonis outside to go to the arcade. After that, I thought I would never see him again. 

Then, a few short months later, Nancy brought over a boy for dinner. It was him. The boy I had spent that crisp summer night with. Adonis. When she introduced us to each other, we both shook hands. We both smiled politely. We both said, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Adonis and I never talked about the night we met and I never thought about what would have happened if I had gone out with him instead of hiding away. I was not allowed to think about that - not when Nancy was happy with him. 

Still, the magic of that night never left. While he was Nancy’s, we still shared hysterical laughter in the backyard. He encouraged me to write, promising me he would be the first to buy a copy of my book. He was my friend, a true friend. Then  when he was engaged to be married to my sister, he was family. 

Besides, I ended up with Darren and I knew with every fiber of my being that he was the one for me. Darren was perfect. 

“We were close,” was what I told the detective. “We cared about each other. I was glad to welcome him into the family.” 

Mac cocked his head to the side like he would have rather not asked what he was about to ask. “It’s important that I know if there was anything more to the nature of you and Adonis’s relationship -” 

“No!” I quickly clarified. “Never.” 

His gaze lingered on me and then he sighed. “Well, because this potential hired protection is unique to you, you’ve become interesting. The people behind this drug trafficking operation are believed to be responsible for fifteen percent of the illegal substances making it to Pennsylvania. A lot is riding on busting them.” 

The wall clock’s ticking noises sound amplified. My skin was itchy. I wanted out of the police station. Frustration leaked into my voice. “What is it that you want from me?” 

“Maintain your contact with this anonymous person. Let them think you are being cooperative and don’t mention that you spoke with me unless they mention it first. We’ll try to track the number they used to call you but most likely they’ll have used a burner.” Mac’s upbeat countenance even while discussing such grave matters with me, a stranger, was reminding me too much of Adonis. My vision was getting blurry with tears. 

Not taking notice of my emotional state, Mac scratched at his stubble and continued, “I have an idea that would be very helpful to this investigation but it would only be possible with your complete cooperation.” 

Was he asking for my help on the investigation? They seemed convinced that Adonis was part of the drug trafficking and like they theorized my family had been in on it. If this was what Mac and the other detective’s thought then why were they asking me to help? Weren’t they worried I could be involved too? Unless I seemed too helpless or incapable. Either way, if I helped then maybe I could show them that Adonis wasn’t the man they were painting him out to be. The sooner they realized his innocence, the sooner they’d lay off my family and I. 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“There’s a colleague of mine who specializes in going undercover. He’ll be integrated into your life naturally so he can gather information about your family and the anonymous caller without being detected as law enforcement.” 

I blinked at Mac, a little impressed that he had formulated this plan so quickly after we discussed everything. 

An undercover detective, huh? It was intimidating to think someone with expertise in digging stuff up would be hanging around me. I didn’t think I had much to hide considering everything about my dark past was on police record to read, but my skin crawled at the idea of someone strictly analyzing my family and I. A few weeks ago, I would have been confident that a detective would find nothing amiss with my family but after finding out about the secret gun in my uncle’s closet, I wondered what else my family wasn’t telling me. 

“Would you be willing to help us, Mrs.Morales?” 

I thought of my family. Each of their faces flashed in my mind and I wondered if they would be hurt to find out I was collaborating with law enforcement potentially at their own expense. But I knew something they didn’t. I knew that we were in trouble, either from the same men that stormed the wedding coming after us or the police falsely linking us to a criminal trade. On the surface it may have seemed that my loyalty to them was in question but really, I was only doing what I could to protect us. It was my chance to set the record straight and clean up the mess that had started on Nancy’s wedding night. 

I took a deep breath and answered. “Yes.”

Author's Note: Remember to vote and comment!