Academy Murders: Sincerely

Algebra problems bubbled up in Kim’s mind. She solved for x. Then, she added y and more figures until her mind had totally focused on something separate from her physical situation.

Water washed over her face and she washed her hands. The coolness of the water clashed with her skin which burned with an intensity that could be fit for a furnace. She sat back on her rack and blew out air. This exhalation brought to her mental clarity along with the math problems. With her temperament tested through all these days, she knew that she would have to consider the rational approach as always. She couldn’t scream like a banshee and tear at her hair or wring her hands. As her back pressed against the wall, she understood the way that she had to deal with her own thoughts. They oozed. Like a slime that felt cold and grimey against a cave wall, her ideas didn’t crash or explode. They dropped like mucus in the throat after a nasal infection.

With the evidence stacked against her, she thought that there might be a possibility that she would be transferred to a prison for the remainder of her life or waste away on death row. The very thought foreign to her, still. As many people as she had locked up doing time, she could see their laughing faces. Their teeth bearing like wolves doubled over in the enjoyment that a cop could be taken down for double murder.

If they didn’t know, it would only be because they lost their privileges to watch TV or use the Internet. Star detective who helped to wrap up the Delaware Hip Hop Murders locked up looking at a thousand years.

No, smoking was never a part of her existence. Somehow, she wanted to light one. Tobacco, marijuana, something like a torch to guide her thoughts and to keep her inline. Anything to keep her intune with her own being. Back to the math. She put the sequence of figures on the slate of her brain. When she had finally solved for x for the tenth time in a row, she maintained her focus. Clarity permitted her to know the problems in her head and the real life problems that existed.

In all of her efforts she didn’t do anything but present problems for herself to solve. She heard the sound of the locks on her solitary cell open.

“Jergensen. You’ve got mail.” It was actual post stamped snail mail. She had received emails from her lawyer but never before had she opened up physical mail.

“Thanks,” she said. “The time—” She started but the cell locked before she could barely gasp out another word.

She took the pre-opened letter. She didn’t see the envelope. Whoever wrote it had even written it in long hand. Purple penmanship looked like frills and complete calligraphy. The curves of the letters dazzled in her eyes and caught the fluorescent lights of the cell. Her mind turned on a different track like an operator at a switchboard for a train.

The way she looked over the four paged letter was like her detective insight came pouring out of her. She tried to trace the very scent of the ink. She rolled her hands over the words. Then she read:

“I know you are able to take these words. I will do everything I can to discover a way out for you. I am indebted to your superior mind and revere your bravado.

You have been on my mind and I am taking this time to inform you that you will not be doing time beyond what you’re serving at the moment.”

Sincerely,

Yawquisha