Murder in the City of Marylane

04. Dreamtime

We managed to catch the perpetrator, Gary Keanett. He is now sitting in the interrogation room. We monitored it through the two-way glass commonly used in interrogation rooms. Mort had just come out and was about to enter the next room where Keanett was sitting. 

Mort's coming soon. He came and asked him why he killed his wife. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Kuanett. You were pretty good at hiding. You must have regretted killing your wife—ah, didn't you. You regret throwing your money away to go to Moscow, but in the end you sit and cuffed here.” 

Gary looks. He didn't answer Mort. 

Mort pointed the laptop screen at Gary, showing the video we got from his wife's own camera. “That's you, isn't it?” 

He didn't answer. 

“There's no reason to dodge anymore, Mr. Keanett. Ah, we also found a bag containing a knife that you threw into the Elvis River. The bag was stuck in the twig and someone found it and reported it to us. There's a trail of blood there,” he said. Mort took out a piece of paper containing the test results. “And it's the blood of your own wife, Abey Westie.” 

“Ya,” akunya. 

“Why?” 

A few minutes until he opened his mouth. 

“She plays with another man.” 

Whahuh?

“What? You killed him for that?” Mort asked.

“I don't think,” comments Dean next to me. 

“Joyalty makes him lose his mind.” 

I listened to Harry's comments. 

But, wait a minute. Abey Westie cheated? Why would he conclude so? All of Abey's best friends I've been with Mort say she's just a nice woman. How could he think that his wife was cheating? Eira Kimberly didn't even say anything about it. 

What is possible ....

I close my mouth to the microphone that connects us to Mort over there. 

“Captain, can you show me a photo of March Lloyd? Maybe Gary thought that Abey was having an affair with March.” 

Mort heard me through a device hanging in his left ear. He nodded slowly and began to show the photo to Gary. 

“This guy?” Mort showed me his picture. 

He saw a picture of March Lloyd on the table, then threw his face away. “Ya.” 

I saw Mort who was sighing and leaning his back. 

“Have you heard it just once?”

Gary looked at Mort. The look on his face seemed curious about the words that our team captain had uttered. 

“He's a stalker. He stalked your wife a week after your wedding. You killed him because you couldn't contain your anger.” 

He looked surprised by what Mort said. However, a few seconds later he snorted. He was trying not to believe the information. 

“Have you listened to his explanation just once? That night, maybe he'll explain it to you. Again, you can't hold back your anger.” Mortcontinue.

A few moments later he was dreaming. The water's changed. I think he's reminiscing about the events with his wife. Before long Gary lowered his head, sounding a little ashen. Looks like Mort's words were right, he didn't listen to his wife's explanation. 

“You're sorry? Good though. Meditate on that in prison and live with regret.” 

With this, the Abey Westie murder case is closed.

---

Wait, why am I here?

The green color stretched wide in front of me. I look around. There's only one way out.

The maze?

“Haha! You can't catch me!”

Jane's?

I followed the origin of the sound. A child who had just stepped on a teenager wearing a white dress was caught in my sense of sight.

No mistake, it's Jane.

I ran after him, but he ran so fast that I lost track of him.

“I'm here!”

There's only his voice. Where's his figure?

“Jane! Where are you?!” my yelling. I turned around, running again to the origin of the sound.

Until I ran and found that the road I was on was dead.

“I'm behind you.”

I turned.

"Jane ...." Knee's squeezing. I can barely even support my own body.

I walked forward and approached him leaving only a few centimeters between us. I knelt down and hugged him. However, she did not react to anything and made me let go of my embrace and look into her eyes.

“Jane?” my many. He looked at me flat.

“Yes, it's me. The Jane you killed,” he said. The white dress she wore turned black and torn. His clothes are now in tatters. The face and body I saw were now blackened from scorching. The remains of the fire can still be seen on him. 

I reflexively pushed my body backwards. Can't believe this figure in front of me.

Nope, no.

"You're a killer."

"Aah!"

Sensation thrown into the real world, I woke up from my sleep. I gasped a little for that dream. I saw my right hand raised upwards as if it was reaching for something. 

I lowered my hand and changed my position to sit, massaging my temples slowly. And I don't know since when there was a sweat there.

"Similar dream, again."

A similar dream for years that haunted me. I don't know when this is over. I'm going to go crazy like him.

My dad's Travis Scott. He used to be a ship steward. And my mother, Julia Watson, was a tour guide. They're workaholic. They rarely came home, and we were often entrusted to my uncle's wife, Aunt Amy. But, I know he makes a living for the needs of our family.

They both died when I was 20 years old. It was pretty heavy for me at the time. Still, I have to live my life. They died in a series of accidents in 2012. After that, Aunt Amy took care of me. Now, I live alone in an apartment and we still communicate well. Originally, I lived in the town of Wimpey, quite far from the town of Marylane. I moved to Marylane because my aunt lives here. 

I have a little sister. He left me and my parents. Her name is Jane Scott. We're five years apart. She's very pretty. He was also a brave boy. He died in the middle of a blaze, just in March, three months before my father and mother had a back-to-back accident. Yeah, he died pretty tragically, like my parents. Our house was on fire and he was in it. Stupidly, I couldn't save her. Those were hard times. Until now, 2012 was my worst year.

Jane's death, it's my fault. 

No one knows that I've had nightmares since my sister's death and the fact that I've always felt guilty about Jane, except for my old best friend, Alston Arron, and my psychiatrist, Milly Oriel's.

Because of the fire, I barely had any family photos because the fire was devouring my family's home. Luckily, my aunt once kept a picture of our family for mementos. Unfortunately, Jane was not born when the photo was taken. And now I don't have his picture at all. 

I just don't remember his face very clearly. Given that eight years ago, I became a little forgotten. What if he's alive today? I'm sure she's still pretty.

To be honest, before, my dream wasn't to be a detective. I had a dream as a journalist or a book writer. At first, I didn't mind my dreams. But, all of a sudden he told me to register for the police force and become a detective. He said he would tell me why later. 

And he hasn't told me anything until death has picked him up. I decided to continue this work at this time to honor my father's wishes. 

I had to, at first. But after two years of being a cop, I don't think it's that bad. 

Might as well.