Page 36 of Seer

Tonight, we were all supposed to have time off to relax and chill, but now we stand in a police station waiting for information while a superstorm is barreling in. We haven’t even gone supply shopping. My phone buzzes, and I chuckle.

“Phoebe’s making a store run. Do you need anything?” Before Leah can answer, the potbelly cop calls my name.

“Fabien Fukuma, come with me.” I frown, handing my phone to Leah.

“Whatever you want, Baby. I’ll be right back.” I kiss her forehead and follow the short officer into a back hallway.

He opens a door and ushers me in.

“The Detective will be right with you.” The door closes and locks.

“What the fuck?” I try the handle, but nothing happens.

I take a seat and stare at the mirror opposite me. I feel like I’m being punked. The room is empty except for a metal desk and two chairs. On the surface is a yellow notepad and pen. I pull out the chair and face the mirror.

I quickly pick up the notepad and pen and write three words. Then, I lift the pad to the mirror, smile, and wave.

I see you.

A few moments later,a door slams before the one to my room flies open.

“Cute, Mr. Fukuma. I see you enjoy writing notes.” I’m taken aback by this man’s immediate attitude toward me.

“Please excuse my partner. He’s tired.” Another man comes in and closes the door much more calmly.

“I see you’ve mastered the good cop bad cop routine. I’m not impressed. Why am I here? My counsel is going to love to hear why you lock visitors in.” The bad cop slams a piece of paper on the table.

“You’re an active suspect in our investigation, and you’re a flight risk.” I sit back and cross my arms.

“Am I? Funny, I don’t remember being arrested or charged with a crime. I was asked to come down and make a statement. I came in good faith, not knowing any other information. Sofranly, this is all new to me, Cher.” His face turns red as his partner, a good cop, pats his back.

“Mr. Fukuma, do you recognize this?” He taps the paper trapped under his partner’s hand.

“Paper?” It’s the obvious answer and enrages Tomato’s face even more.

“Did you write this?” He flips the paper over, and I frown.

Your time is coming.

It’s clearly not my handwriting. I push the notepad next to it and tap it.

“I’m no handwriting expert.” They can both see the difference in the writing.

“Did you send this?” I stand and lean over the table like he is.

Our height difference makes him look up at me while I sneer down my nose at him.

“I sign all my threats. I want you to know I’m coming.” His eyes widen, and I turn to his partner.

I don’t see a signature. Do you?” I straighten and move around the table to the door.

“We aren’t done!” The bad cop yells, and I laugh in both their faces.

“Yes, we are.” I open the door and find my mother standing with her arms crossed.

She’s pissed, trapping her high-heeled foot on the dirty linoleum floor.

“Gentleman,” she greets all of us at once without taking her eye off me.

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