【悬疑】Mirror（4）Chase
It’s Friday afternoon, the only time of the week my dad lets me go volunteer at the support group by myself. I find my way to the closet and step on something. I pick it up for a closer inspection. It’s Chase’s wallet, the one he always whips out to pay when we go out.
Oh, so that’s where it is!
He must’ve left it the day we rushed to the emergency room. The poor guy was really upset about it and had to apply for a new driver’s license too. Now he can’t even drive until the new one arrives, which kinda sucks because I’ve already gotten used to being driven around.
I call him right away. He doesn’t pick up. All right, I’ll hold on to it for a little bit then.
A wide grin spreads across my face. Chase never lets me touch it, saying it’s a “magic” wallet that never runs out of cash. Of course I don’t believe him - I am not five. But it seems intriguing all the same now that I get my hands on it.
I wonder how much money he’s got inside. Well, not that I want to steal his money, although I do need some pretty bad at the moment to pay off the medical bill. It’s more because people say you can tell a lot about someone by what’s in his wallet. That’s why I only hesitate for like two seconds before I unfasten the button. Privacy sharing is part of a relationship, my mom tells me so. Plus, he knows all my secrets. Okay, maybe “all” is too strong a word, but the exception list is very short. I swear.
Now let’s see. The inside looks as worn out as the exterior with loose stitches all over, like he’s been using it for years. The ID window holds an old photo of Chase’s parents who passed away three years ago. I sigh at the smiles on their young faces - he must miss them very much. As I open the largest slot, my eyes go wide. One, two, three, four...Sweet cheese and crackers, four hundred dollar bills? Why was he carrying so much cash around? Next to the bills is a withdrawal receipt with a six-figure balance. I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head - Where the heck did he get so much money from?
My phone rings in the pocket of my jeans. I answer the call without a second thought as my brain is still busy processing the information on that little bank receipt.
“Hey, I found your wallet.” My heart pumps a little faster than usual, but hopefully my voice wouldn’t betray me.
“Is this Miss Abigail Louie?” An unfamiliar voice asks politely.
Frowning, I checked the phone screen. It is from a local number. “Yes, this is she.” I answer cautiously, an uneasy feeling creeping up on me. My hunch tells me I wouldn’t like what I am about to hear.
“This is Officer Sherman at the Tenderloin Police Station. Your boyfriend Chase Fisher here would like to speak with you.” A pause follows as he presumingly passes the phone to Chase.
“Abby, come to the police station ASAP!” Chase sounds frantic on the other end of the line, “they arrested me for violating a restraining order and carrying a Taser!”
“What? Someone filed a restraining order against you, and you go out with a Taser?”
“No! It was filed by this Erica girl against a guy that had supposedly raped her, but I don’t have any ID with me to prove I am not him. Can you go get my passport in my house? You still have the key, right? It’s in the drawer...”
“I found your wallet.” I interject before he completes the instruction, “it was in my closet.”
“Thank God!” He says with genuine relief.
“But what’s with the Taser?” I have never seen a Taser anywhere for all the times I’ve been to Chase’s house, or heard him mentioned one for that matter. This part doesn’t make any sense.
“It was in this big purse that looked exactly like yours, you know, the one that shaped like a cupcake? I found it in the restroom and took it with me thinking it was yours. Then the cops showed up on campus with a restraining order when I was editing raw footage for the documentary and found the Taser in the purse. They said the purse belonged to Erica. Apparently she was carrying the Taser in her purse for self-defense, but left the purse in the restroom.”
A very disturbing thought comes to my mind, “Wait, you went in the ladies room?”
“No! What am I, a pervert?” He snaps in frustration, “it was the unisex handicap restroom because the men’s room was in maintenance.”
I cringe, “sorry, it just popped into my head.” Feeling a little guilty for ever doubting him, I switch the subject to the legality of the arrest, “how can they detain you for carrying a stun gun that isn’t even yours? Isn’t it our constitutional right to keep and bear arms? The gun law is ridiculous!”
“Yes we have the rights, but the cops says they can still arrest me if I am a sex assault convict, or under 18 with no parental consent. They said I might’ve taken the purse from Erica on purpose. That also needs to be clarified by this girl. Argh!” His aggravation comes out as a low growl. “Anyways, come here quick with my driver’s license otherwise I am screwed!”
“Okay, I’ll be there...” I open the public transit app for a quick estimate, “...in about 25 minutes. Hang in there. See you soon!”
Just as I toss the wallet into a messenger bag, a light bulb goes off in my head - if the wallet can serve as solid evidence that this is just a simple case of mistaken identity, my cupcake bag would be further proof for Chase’s honest mistake. Damn it, out of all the purses in the world, why did this girl have to get this same one?
Like a burglar I dig through the closet for the cupcake purse and gather my outdoor accessories. Covering my face with a giant pair of sunglasses and the head with a black wide brimmed hat, I throw the purse across my shoulder and rush out of the door.
The Tenderloin Police Station is only a couple of blocks away from the Arts Institute where Chase was arrested. Wrongfully, I remind myself. In a sketchy neighborhood notorious for drug dealing and gang fights, who knows, they may arrest me too for dressing like a bank robber on the run.
I rarely venture into this triangular area alone, not just for personal safety reasons. Having poor eyesight heightens my other senses, and this whole neighborhood smells just like a public restroom full of weed heads. Actually, that’s exactly what it is, except the residents here also include lots of addicts. A homeless woman curses me furiously for looking at her for two seconds. But other than that, the walk from the Civic Center subway station to 301 Teddy street is uneventful. I even enjoy the vibrant colors on the mural along the way.
The one-storied white building looks much smaller than I’ve imagined for a police station serving a community with the highest crime rate in the city. Entering it, though, is still nerve-racking. A stinky man cuffed to a railing gives me a long, dirty look as I push the glass door open and walk to the receiption counter. The officer behind the glass window looked away from his computer as I approach, “how can I help you?” He greets me with a barely-there smile.
“Hi.” I say hesitantly as I take off the big hat, trying hard not to fidget under his sharp eyes. “Is Officer Sherman here? He called me about 25 minutes ago about my boyfriend Chase Fisher. Can I see him?”
He gauges me with a familiar surprise I know too well when people meet me for the first time, and answers slowly, “Officer Sherman, maybe. Your boyfriend, maybe not.” Reaching for a desk phone, he asks, “your name?”
I am about to tell him that when another officer marches out of a metal door next to the counter. His face turns white as he stares at me, his voice come out shaky, “Erica?”
My brows furrow, “I am not Erica. My name is Abigail Louie. Are you...”
“What?”
“Abigail Louie.” I repeat.
He looks beyond confused, but regains his composure after a couple moments.
“Officer Sherman.” He offers. “Can you take off your sunglasses and show me your ID please?” He asks after a few moments of hesitation.
The florenscent light is too bright for my sensitive eyes, I can tell when I first walk in. But I can also tell from his authoritative tone that he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. My stomach is in knots as I take out my ID and Chase’s wallet from the cupcake purse before slipping off the sunglasses. The blaze makes me wince and I narrow my eyes immediately. Why do I feel like I am being interrogated?
“Here, and this is my boyfriend’s wallet. His driver’s license is inside.” I hand him the items in the general direction of his outstreched hand, hoping I am not in some sort of trouble like Chase.
Officer Sherman reads my ID as if it was a fake and studies my face way too closely than I am comfortable with. Geez, for a police officer, shouldn’t he be more discrete and respectful?
“I have Albinism.” I tell him in a steady voice with clear annoyance.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat, but didn’t offer an apology, or an explanation for the rude gawking earlier. He simply turns and disappears into the room he comes from.
What the hell? I am honestly a little pissed. I just have very pale skin and platinum blond hair. In this neighborhood he surely has encountered people much weirder than me on a daily basis.
As minutes tick by, my patience is wearing thin and my hair is starting to curl from too much twirling. When Officer Sherman comes out of the room again after what feels like an hour, I don’t even pretend to be polite as I ask, “can he go now?”
With an unreadable face he replies, “No.”
“Why?”
“Because he’ll be charged with possession and production of child pornography.”
【悬疑】Mirror（6）Chase