Friday Night Races - Part V

Shanna picked up the phone, and dialed the first nine numbers. She had actually dialed all ten one time, but panicked when Detective Mitchel answered the phone, and hung up right away. She wanted to leave an anonymous message, and let the police contact the Greggs, but she kept panicking, afraid they would track her down, and everyone would know about her and Chaim. Shanna hung up the phone.

She thought about Chaim, about his carefree laugh, and how he had been getting darker and moodier over the past months. It had been less than a week since he disappeared and the pain inside was unbearable. She missed his laugh and his smile, and of course, his touch. She heard about a classmate who used to cut herself with razor blades to cope, and Shanna wondered how it worked, and how deeply she would have to cut herself to make all her pain pour out.

She looked at the clock. 10:10. Only twenty minutes before her sister and mom would be getting home from the gym. If she was going to call, now was the time. She steeled herself, and dialed all ten numbers, listened to it ring twice.

“Detective Mitchel,” the voice on the other end of the line answered, “homicide.”

Shanna started to talk and cry at the same time. “I think I know who was killed in that car accident in Utica,” she said. “But I don’t want my name getting out at all.”

The voice on the other line stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. When it was clear she wasn’t going to talk any more, Mitchel broke the silence. “I can probably keep your name away from the family, ma’am,” he said, “but I do need to talk to you.”

Shanna listened, then continued. “His name is Chaim Gregg. He lives in Oak Park, at 25569 Raine street.”

Detective Mitchell tried to ask her something, but Shanna hung up the phone. She had done it. For the first time since Sunday, the knot that had been tightening in her stomach began to loosen.

She looked at her calendar. Two more days until she left this mess behind her. Two more days until she flew to Israel.

She was eating a late dinner in her room when it all went to hell. Shanna had thrown herself into packing, and had managed to go most of the day without thinking about Chaim. She focused on the year ahead, wondered what a year away from home would bring. When she heard the knock on the door downstairs, she assumed it was a Meshulach collecting money for some organization.

But the voice she heard when her father opened the door sent her straight back into the morning’s conversation. Detective Mitchel had somehow found her.

She listened from the top of the stairs as her Abba talked to Detective Mitchel. “Our daughter didn’t know that boy. You don’t understand, officer. The girls on our community don’t talk to boys.”

She listened for a few minutes longer while the detective explained to her Abba that they needed to talk to Shanna. Her Abba tried to get the Detective to go away, but he was adamant, and insisted on talking to her.

“Shanna,” her father called from the bottom of the stairs, “there is a police officer here to see you.”

Shanna slowly came downstairs. When she reached the bottom stair, her father introduced her. “Shanna, this is Detective Mitchel, he wants to talk to you about the Gregg boy. Such a shame, missing since Shabbos.” He shook his head.

The three of them walked to the dining room table, and sat down. Shanna sat down nervously; she knew what was going to happen next. She couldn’t lie to the police, but she didn’t want her Abba sitting there and discovering that she was not the good Bais Yaakov girl he had raised.

Detective Mitchel must have sensed her discomfort. “Mr. Wine, is it OK if I talk to your daughter alone,” he asked.

Her Abba tried to protest, but she nodded her approval.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” he said, and shuffled off.

“You weren’t easy to find,” the detective began. “We went through ever inch of his room before we found a box with your name and letters in it.” The officer whispered. “I guess he didn’t want anyone to find out about you, either.”

Shanna laughed. For the first time in days, she was finally able to talk about Chaim. She hoped her Abba was out of earshot.

“We met with the Greggs earlier today,” he continued. “They were able to positively identify the body, and we are running some DNA tests to confirm that it’s him.”

“Did Chaim have any enemies?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught her off guard. “No, everyone liked him. He got along great with everyone.”

“We know he stole the car, was he involved in any other criminal activity?”

“No, not really. He smoked some weed every once in a while, but he never bought it and it wasn’t that often.”

“Shanna, what I am going to tell you is between the two of us for right now. We have reason to believe that it might not have been an accident. There are some signs that someone tampered with Chaim’s car the night he died. So let me ask this to you again. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt or kill him?”

“No,” she screamed. “No one would hurt him.” She knew her family was listening now but she didn’t care. Her father was running to the dining room but she kept on going. “He was the sweetest, nicest boy I ever met. No one would ever hurt him. She slumped down, into her Abba’s arms.

And cried.

Chaim didn’t die in a car accident. He was killed.

The preceding was a work of fiction. You can catch the story from the beginning by clicking on the The Race under Friday Night Races on the sidebar.