Grounded
CHAPTER 10

Monte was upset; he locked his office door and began to walk very briskly towards the entrance of the Police station. He walked up to Hazel who was seated at the counter and stopped abruptly letting out a sigh.

"I need the full details on the victim in the Station's infirmary." He requested looking into his wristwatch and tapping his fingers against the wooden counter.

Hazel immediately began a search among some files on the shelf just behind him; he could tell that the Police Chief was upset.

"Where is Joan?" Monte asked Hazel as he waited impatiently.

"She's on patrol with Remy and the alpha team sir." He replied without mincing words.

He smiled as he found the file he was searching for; he flipped it open and drew out a neat piece of paper from the drawer beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrote some words and numbers legibly on the paper and handed them over to the Police Chief.

"Thank you." Monte said as he rushed out the door and began to work towards the Station's Infirmary.

"You sent for me sir." Anna's high-pitched voice rang in his ears as he approached the Infirmary. She was standing some meters ahead, her slender body swaying in the gentle breeze as if threatening to break.

"Yes Anna; how are you doing?" he asked walking past like he was talking to no one.

"Very well thank you sir." She replied, her long legs doing much to keep with him.

"I need to know Anna; how much work has been done with the evidence that were recovered from the crime scene. I believe they were a single stalk of black rose flower and a ring made out of bronze." He said slowly down as he got into the infirmary.

"Yes sir; she replied nearly out of breath from keeping up with his quick strides; "A file has been sent to your office early this afternoon, it contains the results from the forensic department." She explained briefly looking at his face for expressions.

"Do I really need to get to my office first to view these results?" he asked rhetorically.

"The fingerprint on the rose flower corresponded with those on the previous flowers we have worked on. The victim's print too was also found on the rose flower. The same goes for the bronze ring sir." She replied. "What are your deductions as head of the department of forensic science?" he asked again, a little more softly this time.

"This was the thirty sixth rose flower, another one came in this morning making it thirty-seven of the same species of black rose. All the flowers have possessed always, the victim's print and the assaulter's. The assaulter's print has never changed sir, I believe one man is the killer. We just need to replace a suspect whose print matches that on the roses." She explained confidently.

"Thank you, Anna," he said soberly; "do run an autopsy on the body, she was mutilated." He pleaded.

"I knew her, she was my hairstylist. I heard she was attacked last night along a minor route." She replied sadly.

"I'm sorry Anna, I'll get to the bottom of this." He assured her and took his leave.

He handed the paper in his hand to the nurse at the counter, she smiled exposing her dimples.

"This way sir." She said leading him down the hallway.

He looked around, inspecting the structures in the infirmary; they were mostly old or damaged. The air conditions seemed to have been damaged, he was hot, and it was stuffy. He had completely forgotten about the state of the infirmary, he was too busy solving crime cases.

She opened the door to one of the rooms and walked in, Monte entered the room, his heart leaped for joy. This was the first survivor in three years; he cleared his throat to pull himself together.

The nurse let him come close to the patient's bed before taking a slight bow and leaving the room, closing the creaky door behind her. He turned his attention to the patient, she was sitting on the bed, her head down as though she was afraid to look at him.

"Hi, he began nervously; "my name is Monte, no one is going to hurt you." He told her trying to sound as convincing as he could. She kept still and didn't say a word in return.

"What's your name?" he asked hoping for a reply.

"Lydia.... Lydia Evans." She told him almost stammering.

"Alright Lydia, you are in safe hands. If you ever feel disturbed, please don't hesitate to say so. Meanwhile, I'll need you to recount your ordeal. You have a right to refuse if you want to, but I need you to understand that your confession is very important as we need it to apprehend your assailant." He said, a little frustration written on his face.

"I begged him, but he wouldn't listen; she lifted her head to cast a glance on Monte who was busy scribbling into a note pad; "he slapped me multiple times and would not stop cutting across my body with his blade." She told him and then became silent. The whole room was quiet, except for the creaking fan and the sound of Monte's pen against his notepad. He lifted his head to beckon to her to keep going, instead he was greeted with the greatest shock of his life. The notepad and the pen he was holding dropped to the floor as he walked closer to her in disbelief.

"Sharon!" he exclaimed, trying to keep calm as anger and gladness fought to burst out of his heart. She remained still and continued to stare at him, there were no expressions on her injured face.

"Sha...Shar...Sharon where have you been?" he questioned her in a stammer trying to stay calm.

"Where is our son? Where is Michael?" He asked desperately without letting her answer the previous question.

"Somewhere safe." She told him reluctantly.

"What did I do wrong? Why did you run off? You didn't even tell me anything, you refused to take my calls, I sent you several messages, and you replied none. What happened to us?" he was close to tears.

She broke down and began to sob, she buried her face in her palms and wept. Monte walked closer to console her, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand as she began to dry her tears.

"I was tired of living with all the lies, the deceit and falsehood. You're a good man Mont, but too good for me I suppose. I had to go; you deserve a better woman who would love you better than I had ever done." She explained amidst tears. "What are you talking about?" he asked wide eyed.

She went quiet again, sobbing silently. She lifted her head to look at him when she heard her name.

"Sharon, you're my world. You know that you mean so much to me; besides, you are my wife, my life, my better half. Please, talk to me, we can work on this together." He assured her but she barely looked on, her face and lips swollen. He wanted to go close to her, cuddle her and tell her how much he had missed her. He wanted to lift her up in his hands, comfort her and tell her everything would be alright. He wanted to take her home and surprise her with a present, but he couldn't. He was her husband, but he was also the Police Chief and he could not afford to mix sentiments with work. It was against the code of ethics; this was strictly business.

"Where is Michael?" he asked again dejectedly.

"He is safe." She answered.

"Where is my son?" he asked again, this time firmly, almost shouting.

"He is not your son." She shouted back holding her shoulder in pain.

Monte cringe overwhelmed with shock and confusion; he was taken aback by what she said.

"I'm sorry, what?" he pretended not to have heard what she said.

The nurse walked into the room carrying a tray of medications; "I'm sorry sir but I'm afraid you'd have to leave; she needs to take her medications and rest. You can return again tomorrow morning." She said politely keeping the tray on a small table in the room and walking towards the patient.

"How are you Madam Lydia?" she asked placing two fingers lightly on her wrist to feel her pulse.

"Very well, thank you." She replied faking a smile.

Monte walked out of the room reluctantly, he was lost in thoughts from the conversation he just had with his wife. He didn't know whether to feel happy, mad or sad. He was upset because she said Michael was not his son, he was more upset that he did not know where to replace him. He couldn't believe that she had changed her name to Lydia Evans; this was his Sharon, his wife. All of a sudden, she had become a stranger; he could not believe what was happening. As he stepped out of the infirmary, he suddenly realized that he did not get any detailed narration from her to help track down the homicidal killer. His soul plunged into depression at that instant, he walked slowly with his head bowed so that no one would see how badly hurt he was.