The cool morning melted to a sweet warmth in the city. Kate watched a butterfly sail past the police station window and land on a rustic maple branch. The bug stretched its silk wings as though it hadn’t a care in the world, as though it was showing off to the watching human girl with a stink face and a stomach full of croissant. Kate snorted at it. She tried flicking the window to scare it off, but it just fluttered its wings, rubbing it in even more that it was free and awesome, and Kate was in trouble and screwed. Finally, the gloating bug lifted from its branch and took off out of sight.
If Kate had wings like that, she’d fly away, too. She imagined the breeze beneath her dinosaur-sized bug wings, and the soothing sun on her back, and every mistake she’d ever made unable to find her. How different life would be if she had wings.
She’d probably also be all over the news as the most absurd abnormality in Ontarian history.
It would make a good novel. She could call it, The Bolting Butterfly. A Young Adult Modern Fantasy about a girl who floated into the heavens to run from her problems. And one day she would face a problem she couldn’t escape from, and every mistake she’d ever made in her past would all catch up with her at once with back-to-back consequences. The protagonist would probably end up in jail.
Kate moaned at herself. She wound up and flicked her own face, right on the cheek. “Dummy, don’t think that way,” she said. A second later she mumbled, “Ow,” when she realized she’d flicked herself too hard. She rubbed her cheek, wondering if burgundy hair would compliment an orange jumpsuit.
The inner-city police station buzzed with dutiful cops and loud Toronto citizens claiming they didn’t do anything wrong. Kate pulled her gaze from the window as Officer Westbow took her in from head to toe, blinking a dozen times over. Probably wondering why she was talking to herself. She usually dropped the weird/crazy act once she no longer needed it, but it seemed to have stuck this time.
“Did you just say you killed someone?” he asked.
Kate already forgot how she’d run into the station shouting it for all of Toronto to hear.
“I rushed here as soon as it happened. I can take you to him. I mean… it. The body.” Kate swallowed. “I just—I should make a phone call.” Her hand slid into her pocket. Her fingers banged around in the fabric for a moment, and confusion washed over her. “Where’s my…” She patted over her jeans, lifting her coat to check it. She moaned when she realized her phone was still at the coffee shop. “Um… Is Officer Baker here, by chance?” She stole a look toward the break room.
Doubt flashed over Officer Westbow’s face. “She’s out on duty. Do you know Officer Baker personally?”
Kate chewed on her lip.
“No.” She folded her hands on her lap and pulled her eyes off the break room. “Not at all.”
Officer Westbow tapped his chin. “Do you have your ID?” he asked.
Kate opened her wallet, slid out her university student card, and passed it over. The officer’s brows furrowed when he took it.
“Can I see some other ID?” he asked, giving the card back. “I need a driver’s license, a birth certificate, or a passport.”
Kate shook her head. “That’s the only ID I have.”
Her wallet burned in her hands where the rest of her cards were stuffed.
The officer clicked his pen over a lined notebook. “What was the name of the person you killed, Miss Kole?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded, poorly concealing an odd expression. “Is anyone else injured? Should I call an ambulance?” He slid his notebook and pen over the desk. “And I’ll need you to write down exactly where I should send my partner to go lock down the crime scene. Immediately, please.”
“No one else needs an ambulance,” was all Kate said. She stared at the pen, the notebook. Her hands didn’t move to take them.
A pair of cops hauled a howling middle-aged woman through the station. The woman swatted at their faces, shouting obscene things. She missed the first time, but on her second swing, she flipped one of the cop’s hats off his head. It landed at Kate’s feet.
Kate blinked down at the hat for a moment before she picked it up. Dust clung to the rim, so she brushed her sweater over to clean it. When the cop came back for his hat, Kate lifted it toward him. She had a brief moment where she considered tossing over Officer Westbow’s desk in front of both cops, shouting like the howling woman, and sticking with her crazy person act. Maybe she’d be let off the hook for kicking that coffee shop guy into the table if the cops thought she was crazy for real.
“Thanks,” the cop mumbled as he took the hat. He disappeared down the hall where the rowdy woman was taken. Kate watched them, counting down the seconds until her opportunity to tear up the police station passed.
“Miss Kole?” Officer Westbow tapped his pen on the desk, bringing her attention back. “You have yet to write down the address. I need to know where the crime took place, and then we’ll talk about what happened and why you attacked the victim. Obviously, you’re entitled to a lawyer, since whatever you say to me can be used against you in court.”
“Right.” Kate swallowed. She picked up the pen and scribbled the street name where the coffee shop was, wondering how many customers had already called the police and reported her by now. “I don’t know what to tell you about why I did it,” she admitted. “I saw something in the guy’s eyes. I knew he was going to kill me. I don’t know how I knew; I just did. That’s why I kicked him.”
Officer Westbow studied Kate for a while before speaking again. “I’ll have to keep you in a holding cell until we can investigate. Sit tight, Miss Kole.”
Promises of a breezy afternoon whispered in the wind off the harbour two hours later as Kate dragged her arms out of her knit sweater. She, Officer Westbow, and Westbow’s partner—Officer Jackson—approached the coffee shop. The nausea that had plagued Kate all morning swelled when her hand found the door handle. She imagined that butterfly again. She imagined growing dragon wings and taking off to live in the sky.
“My life will never be the same now, will it?” she asked the officers, glancing at the irritated skin on her wrist where handcuffs had been up until ten minutes ago.
Officer Westbow sighed. “Let’s just go inside and you can explain to me what’s going on.”
Kate nodded and tugged the door open.
The warm smells of freshly brewed coffee, pastries, and pumpkin spice washed over her when she stepped in, along with the sound of laughter. The fresh bread scent of the croissants didn’t have the same allure as before.
Kate stopped inside the doorway.
There was laughter.
Her eyes fell on the cashier girl wearing a sweet customer service smile as she took a man’s order. Late morning light streamed over the tabletops where muffins and hot sandwiches lay half eaten before chatty university students and elderly couples. People milled back and forth around the counter for refills.
There was no puddle of coffee on the floor.
There was no tense silence or shrieking women in the corners.
There was no body.
Kate took another step in, brows pinching together. Where spilled coffee had been, squeaky-clean tiles looked back at her along with the sickening memory of the golden-eyed guy’s blank stare from where he lay. The faint scent of cleaning supplies mixed into the smells of toasted bread and brewing coffee.
“We questioned everyone while you were in holding, and no one seems to think someone died here. In fact, no one even remembers you being here this morning. Are you sure this is where you think you killed someone?” Officer Westbow raised a brow.
“I don’t think I did; I know I did,” Kate said, pointing. “He was right here when I left.”
The officer looked from the floor, to Kate, to Officer Jackson, then to the customers around the café. His mouth tipped down. “Are you on any medications, Miss Kole?” he asked.
“What? I’m telling you, there was a body here this morning!” she yelled. “Ask the girl behind the counter! She saw everything.”
Officer Westbow folded his arms. “You wait here. We’ll ask again.” The two officers brushed by and approached the counter where the cashier gave them a smile Kate couldn’t believe.
Kate took in the cheery coffee shop. She stared at the spot on the floor. She looked out the windows at the pedestrians passing by.
She hadn’t taken any medications this morning. She didn’t take any medications, ever. And despite her weird act to claim her morning table, she wasn’t crazy.
Her hand shook as she brushed it through her hair. For the first time since this morning, she had the brief, terrifying thought that maybe she’d made it all up in her head: The guy. The rudeness. The kick.
Sunlight reflected off a shiny surface behind the leg of a nearby table. Kate’s pulse quickened when she recognized the glossy green book cover. She darted over and dragged out her copy of Bella Stone. A new brown coffee stain muddied the page corners. She flipped it over. KATE KOLE was written across the back cover with a sharpie, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“So, you’re saying everything has been normal here today?” Officer Westbow’s voice trickled past the conversations in the shop. He murmured something too quiet for Kate to hear and he and the cashier chuckled as Kate turned, holding up her book for them to see.
“I guess we better get her tested for drugs. We should hold her overnight until we get the results.” Officer Jackson’s words to Officer Westbow weren’t quiet enough.
A lump formed in Kate’s throat as she lowered her book. She stood, her wrists burning like the handcuffs were already back on. She stepped toward the officers, but her feet came together when a cool breeze tickled her warm neck from someone leaving the coffee shop. Her gaze darted to the door and fell on the table in the corner by the exit.
There sat her phone.
Kate huffed in disbelief and shoved her book into her coat pocket. She grabbed her phone off the table and abandoned the coffee shop before Officer Westbow and Officer Jackson turned back around.
Thelma Lewis’s small kitchen was fragrant with the warmth of freshly baked cookies and grandmotherly love. Her buffet hosted collections of crystal vases and old photos that should have been put away long ago. Along the windowsills were well-watered ivies and balls of yarn with gray needles sticking out. It was with those needles Grandma Lewis had made Kate’s favourite yellow sweater—the one Kate had worn this morning when she’d killed someone.
Kate gripped a mug of tea, her thumbnail scraping against a chip in the handle. She imagined a rude, deep voice trying to order coffee. A black and navy leather outfit made for a high fantasy theatre performance. Golden eyes that turned wild when provoked. Her fingers still burned from where the coffee had splattered over the to-go cup when she’d tried to keep the guy from taking it. She lifted her hand to see the red marks on her knuckles again.
“Are you even listening?”
Kate’s gaze sprang up. “Hmm?”
Her brother Greyson grunted and leaned back in his chair with folded arms. “Grandma!” he called to Thelma at the sink, “Kate doesn’t care that I might get eaten by an alligator in Florida.”
“You’re going to Florida?” Kate blinked.
“Seriously? I just told you I’m going to Florida with Lincoln and Tegan until Christmas.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Greyson arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to try and talk me out of it?”
“You’re out of high school, you have no job, and you’re mooching housing off Grandma. You’re practically an intermittent vagrant. Why would I try to talk you out of it? Besides…” Kate swallowed the lump in her throat, waiting for loud knocks to echo through the house and Officer Westbow’s voice calling for her to come outside. “Maybe it would be good for you to get away from here for a while.” She sipped her tea, glancing out the bay window at the windy afternoon and the dark clouds bringing more shadow to this day.
“That’s not how the word intermittent is supposed to be used in a sentence. And did you really just ask, ‘Why would I try to talk you out of it?’ Hmm, I don’t know Kate,” Greyson’s sarcasm filled the kitchen, “because you always try to talk me out of anything fun?”
“Oh, cut it out, Greyson. Can’t you see something is troubling your sister?” Grandma Lewis carried over a fresh plate of cookies and set it between them on the table.
“I’m fine.” Kate forced herself to sip her tea again. She was almost too distracted to notice her grandmother try to lift the heavy slow cooker dish. Kate jumped to take it from the old woman’s hands, and she carried it to the cupboards. She nudged the door open and hauled the dish up onto the shelf.
Grandma Lewis sat back at the table. Kate followed, returning her tight grip to her mug. Her grandmother shoved the plate of cookies in her direction, but Kate looked away.
“Heavens, Katherine, your hands are shaking worse than mine.” Grandma Lewis eyed Kate’s mug. She sighed. “There’s only one thing you could have come to my home for in this condition.”
Kate pulled her hands below the table. “What’s that?”
“Comfort.” Grandma Lewis leaned back with her arms folded, mirroring Greyson. Suddenly Kate felt like she was being interrogated. “I see far more than you think, Katherine,” she added.
“Can you see I was with the police today?”
“Do you know what I did?”
“Are these cookies a bribe to start talking?”
Ten more responses flooded Kate’s mind, none of them right to say aloud. Grandma Lewis was a shrewd woman. She’d hear the truth in anything Kate said about her day, even if Kate tried to tell her about what she had for breakfast that morning.
Kate chewed on her bottom lip. “You know what? Lily and I actually have a lot of work to do for our café.” She stood, taking one last longing look at the tea she was abandoning.
“Well, I’ll be offended if you don’t eat one of these before they get cold.” Grandma Lewis picked up a cookie and tossed it to her. Kate fumbled for a second before she caught it. Crumbs decorated her chest, and she scowled.
“How is Lily, by the way?” Greyson leaned forward a little.
“Why don’t you find a girl your own age to give you advice?” Kate grunted at him. “It’s weird to try and have a best friend who’s also your sister’s best friend.”
Greyson scowled. “All the girls my age are annoying. And Tegan and Lincoln are my best friends. Lily’s just… my older best friend.”
“Well stay away from Lily,” Kate said, stuffing the whole cookie into her mouth at once like a monster. “She’s mine.” Chocolate coated her teeth. Greyson made a repulsed face, but Grandma Lewis chuckled.
“I’m going to steal her from you,” Greyson announced.
Kate ignored him. “Thanks, Grandma. Bye, Greyson,” she said through sugary chunks as she headed for the door. Apparently, her crazy and weird act was back on.
“Wait.” Grandma Lewis’s chair scraped over the floor, and Kate held in a sigh. She didn’t have the heart to ignore the old woman, so she turned back to see her grandmother shuffling cookies into a paper bag.
“Take these. Lily will be hungry after her shift.” Grandma Lewis brought the bag around the table and held it toward Kate.
Kate stared at it, warmth pressing in at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was too full of cookie chunks to say anything without spewing chocolate and crust.
They were just cookies. It’s not like they meant anything. It’s not like they were a warm, sweet hug, or a word of comfort, or an entire lifetime’s worth of guidance and love like the sort Grandma Lewis always gave away for free.
Except that her grandmother’s cookies were exactly all of those things.
“And I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you. It’s not healthy to hold it all in,” the old woman added, pouring salt on the wound with her gentle voice which she only brought out for special occasions.
Kate looked at the floor and swallowed the wads trapped in her mouth. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Grandma,” she said when she could speak.
Grandma Lewis put the bag in Kate’s hands. The kitchen grew quiet, and Grandma Lewis glanced over at the framed photos resting on the buffet where a full family covered in snow smiled back.
“Well, when you’re ready to talk, my door is always open, my cookies are always warm, and my tea kettle is always hot.” Grandma Lewis folded her wrinkled hands, soft and shaking with age. Even when she was doing nothing, Grandma Lewis smelled of soft powder, herbal tea, and pleasant conversations.
“I know.” Kate turned away from the photos and opened the door.
“Give Lily my love.” Her grandmother flashed a smile that could light up a room.
From the back of the kitchen, Greyson yelled, “Give Lily my love, too!” and Kate shot him a look that promised she wouldn’t.
