The Missing Piece: Part 3

A fictional story written by students

January 25, 2017


Credit: Pixabay

Written by Sofia Trevino

My eyes stung as a bright lamp shined in my face. I could hardly make out who was in front of me. I knew his voice however. We had been talking only just a few minutes ago when he had first led me into the interrogation room. He was a tired looking man. It was a bit past midnight now, and I assumed he had been working on this case all night. Poor guy. I was glad he had kept his stress mostly to himself or else everyone in here would have been on edge. After all, he was the star of this show, the shepherd herding the sheep, making sure that none of us are wolves in disguise.

Still, the blinding light was just as fear-inducing and obnoxious as it appeared to be in those crime shows. I wanted to leave almost half as much as before.

“Ms. Evert, do you think you’re ready to tell me what happened today? Your side of the story?” the detective inquired, a hint of anxiousness lingering in his words. I nodded and took a sip of water. It was a long story, but it was better to get my alibi perfect instead of forgetting a detail and suffering from it later.

“Um, well… I suppose you can say I’m not the luckiest girl…” I began. That afternoon began like most. As I packed a lunch for my son, my mom called, as she usually did. We talked for about 20 minutes, since that’s about the longest amount of time we can speak without reaching through the phones and strangling each other. After that, my son and I went to the art museum. It definitely left a dent in my wallet, but seeing my kid had taken a liking to art, I spent the whole month saving money to buy us tickets. He had a blast, I live to see him smile like he did today. I began to trail off with my story, but the detective’s irritated and stressed mood began to creep out from the look in his eyes. I quickly wrapped up my story as best I could, the light seemed to get brighter and brighter. Halfway through our trip, I dropped my son off in the activity center for kids, where I ran into my friend from a few years ago in high school who was volunteering. She told me that there was a tour she thought I’d like, and I went on it.

The stolen painting, one that we passed by towards the end of the tour, had definitely caught my eye. Firstly, there was a man who I saw staring at it for much longer than I suppose most people do, and secondly, it was magnificent, surely it had a larger net-worth than me! Whoever stole that painting… boy…how their life would change…

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