#ccuchallenge

“When was the last time that you can recall seeing Melanie Whyte?”

She pursed her lips and thought back, folding her hands, one over the other, in her lap. “I believe it was the Tuesday, the 17th if I am recalling correctly”.

“Did you talk to her?” 

“Yes, we talked”.

“How did she seem to you?”

“Perfectly fine, a little stressed though she was trying to cope with her workload and from what I understood, an ongoing family matter than was draining her of her energy. Poor dear”.

The Sheriff’s eyes searched her face, but she kept her expression frozen. When his eyes narrowed, she smiled softly and leaned back in her chair a little, observing him. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind.

“What was your relationship with Melanie Whyte?”

“I hired her” she said, simply, “I regarded her as a wonderful, intelligent woman, more than capable of doing the job I employed her to do”.

“Where were you between 5pm and 7pm on the 18th November, 2015, the day before Thanksgiving break?”

”In all honesty, I cannot remember, though I am sure that I was most likely in this here office, where I am talking to you, as it is where I spend most of my days and evenings, especially when a break in school is coming”.

”You weren’t eager to rush home to your family?” he asked.

”What family, dear?” she replied quickly, and he looked a little stunned, before his expression changed to embarrassment.

“I a p o l o g i s e...”

She waved his apology away quickly, with a flick of her wrist. “There is no need to apologise, it is what it is. Now, if there’s nothing more...”

“Actually, there is something else that I wanted to ask you”.

She had been hoping that their interview would have been finished there, but the look in his eyes, despite his earlier embarrassment, revealed a need to ask whatever question was burning through his mind.

“What do you think happened to her?”

She leaned back in her chair for a moment, pondering his question. It had almost been whispered to her, like a secret, as if he genuinely wanted to know because he was grasping at straws himself. She felt sorry for him and sighed, leaning forward, elbows on her desk and fingers clasped together.

“I don’t know what to think” she said, honestly, “all I can say is that Melanie Whyte was a beloved person around this campus. It was a terrible day here when we found out that she was missing and has been an even more distressing time since. I cannot offer explanations where I have none, but I do hope that you get to the bottom of what is shaping up to be a terrible t r a g e d y”.

He studied her for a moment, opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but closed it once more. Pushing himself to his feet he held out his hand for her to shake, which she took.

“Lena Marianne Elias. I’m 24 years old, and I’m a senior undergrad student, so this is my 4th year.” 

The man across from her wrote something down before asking the next question, “when was the last time that you can recall seeing Melanie Whyte? Did you talk to her? How did she seem to you?”

“Uh...” Lena hesitated for only a moment “I honestly don’t remember. I think it was sometime around the start of the semester in 2015.” 

Again he wrote something down. “What was your relationship with Melanie Whyte?”

“I barely knew her. We only talked in passing a couple of times. Mostly just friendly smiles in the hallway.” Lena smiled with her answer, almost automatic as a response to her saying the word. 

“Where were you between 5pm and 7pm on the 18th November, 2015, the day before Thanksgiving break?“ 

“That was almost two years ago... I have no idea. Probably in my room at the sorority, packing to fly home I think.” Lena could feel herself start to sweat. She had no alibi, though she was sure she didn’t need one, the thought was terrifying. 

“In your opinion, was Melanie Whyte someone who was well liked around campus?“

“I believe so. Like I said, I barely knew her. When she went missing it was pretty big news around the school.”

“Do you think Melanie Whyte could possibly have any enemies?“

Lena had to think hard. “It’s possible, but she was also always extremely friendly. I don’t know.” 

The officer wrote again. Lena felt the moisture in the small of her back more now. 

“In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, did you notice any strangers on or around campus?”

“Not anymore than usual, but I don’t know many people under my grade so a lot of people are strangers to me.” 

“When it was reported that Melanie Whyte was missing, what was your reaction to the news?“

“Well, I was sad and scared for her and her family, but I really didn’t know her well so I didn’t feel very personal to me.” Lena could remember the day Melanie became an official missing person. Everyone around campus had a reaction to it one way or another. There were many tears, though Lena had a feeling most people just liked the attention that came from being sad, and that most people probably didn’t even know the girl that well. 

“What do you think happened to her?“ 

“I have no idea. I hope she ran away though, and nothing worse.” Lena looked down, the horror of a different outcome weighing heavily on her. 

“Do you have an other pieces of information that might help us with our investigation?“ 

“I don’t. I’m sorry. I hope you find out whatever happened to her.” 

The officer wrote again for the final time before looking up at Lena with a polite smile. “Okay, Miss Elias, that’s all. You’re free to go. We will contact you if we require anything else from you.” 

Lena smiled back as she stood up, her legs feeling a little shaky. She picked her bag off the floor before reaching her hand out to the officer for a handshake. 

“Could you please tell us your name, age, and how many years you have spent at Cabot Creek University thus far?” She nodded and answered. “My name is Monika Lanka, I am 28 and I’ve been at Cabot Creek for seven years now. Four for Undergrad and three for Graduate.” Monika felt old in that instant, even though she knew she wasn’t. Just saying all that brought the thought to her mind.

“What was your relationship with Melanie Whyte?” She had to think back for a moment and rack her brain. “We never really had one. I believe I took her class in my Sophomore year, but I never was close with her or spoke to her outside of the classroom.” Monika honestly didn’t know Ms. Wyte, she hardly even remembered what the professor looked like. She hid a cringe as she felt bad at that thought, she wished it wasn’t true.

“Where were you between 5pm and 7pm on the 18th November, 2015, the day before Thanksgiving break?” Her eyes squinted as she tried to remember that time. “I was in my room, finishing up a last minute assignment and helping my roommate pack. Since Thanksgiving is an American holiday, I usually stay on campus or rent a room in town. I have no need to go home for it. She had a red eye out to California which is why she was around later in the evening.” Monika began feeling nervous again, and resisted the urge to pick at her cuticles. She was sure that would seem suspicious. Why didn’t she just say she went with her stupid roommate? She fidgeted in the chair slightly.

“In your opinion, was Melanie Whyte someone who was well liked around campus?” Her head bobbed slightly as she nodded yes. “I didn’t really know her, but she always seemed so kind and helpful to her students. She was quick with jokes and making us laugh.” A small grin spread over her lips as she remembered that.

“In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, did you notice any strangers on or around campus?” This was another one she had to think about, it had been a few years since the woman had gone missing. A long finger tipped with a dark purple hue scratched at her head. “I don’t think so. Not that I can recall at least.” Her features became sad and a small frown took place on her lips. She wished she could remember more, remember if anything was out of place.  

So I’m coming back to Cabot Creek. First year was uneventful and boring. All the kids were exactly how I imagined them. Uninteresting, studious. It’s like, the actually came to university to really study. Which is something I should have been doing because I barely passed my classes but hey, at least I did. There’s some small exceptions to that boring clause. I met this girl called Melody that even though she was so annoying when she gave me that campus tour she proved to be somewhat okay. She’s a different kind of friend, that’s for sure. She actually talks to me, versus the friends back home - that don’t talk to me anymore, at all. But to hell with those bitches. They had the balls to tell me I’m too fucking bossy and too mean? 

Well they can shove it up their asses. 

I’m sure this Melody chick will leave anyways. I’m better of alone... Blah blah blah.

Back home everyone can shove it, actually. Only reason why I left campus was because I couldn’t afford housing back in CC and my father’s home was empty since everything he had belongs to me now that he’s six feet under. And counting on my mother is like counting on a rock. Hard, unbothered. I can say she’s dead too. It works. 

SO! I’m looking forward to a second year of living with another idiot, of eating more crap, living the same boring life. I guess that’s more okay than being back in Cali. 

I wonder how long I’m going to keep doing this but for as long as I does, I hope it at least does something for me. 

Hopefully no one ever finds this before I burn it and bury it. 

Again she is surprised at how ordinary Mariupol looks at first sight, bearing in mind that the city could come under attack again any minute. The drive in the taxi takes her through empty streets, and it hits her how many people must have fled by now. But again, her parents’ home seems to exist in a separate universe, one which houses the OSCE advisors and other expats, one in which Venla happily barks in well-cared-for courtyard with a sound that tugs at her heartstrings and that will feel like home wherever her parents take her. 

Her father knows by now that Anni wants to know as well, wants to know as much as possible, so as they sit having coffee (imported from Finland, or sent by friends, Anni doesn’t know, but it’s Finnish coffee because the coffee is one of the few things her mother won’t compromise on) and self-made Karelian pasties, her father tells her about work: “Nobody is sticking to Minsk,” he says as Anni bookmarks more and more webpages on her phone she will have to work her way through in order to understand. “Even though we know now that they shot MH17 down from over there.” He points out the window. “But why...?” Anni asks. “Because that’s how frozen conflicts work. To admit responsibility is to start the process of healing.”

Anni tucks the phrase away for later usage even though it hasn’t helped her father heal the world. Do better.  

Two weeks later, after a trip to Kiev and filling her suitcase with jaw-droppingly cheap purchases, Anni is on a plane again, this time headed for Turku. Which... it’s funny how she can read all the languages in the on-board leaflet, it’s funny how the snacks offered conjure up memories and how strange it already feels to be able to follow all the conversations around you, down to every single cultural reference, but when she told her friends in the States about her upcoming trip, the word she used was not “home”. 

In Turku, she stays at the apartment of a former classmate. They spend their days going to museums and watching movies from their teenage years. Her heart always beats a little bit faster once they start getting ready to go out, because she knows that many of her former classmates are back in town for the summer, but Anni knows that if anything she’s lost weight since in the States, and that the Ukrainian sun has drawn golden highlights into her hair. So when she first meets Mats again, a week in, she feels satisfied more than anything. They sit drinking beer, and exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes later, Päivi walks in, still looking like she’s just returned from a three-week trip to the Azores. 

Anni takes a swig of beer and leans in closer to Mats. “Have I already told you that there’s this rumor that my university drives people crazy?” 

“Isn’t that par for the course over there? I mean, how much do you pay in tuition? Wouldn’t surprise me if that makes people mad over how much they have to work next to studying.”

“No, I mean legitimately, like someone told me this story that a person actually jumped off the university library once because they...”. Anni lapses into giggles. It’s hard for her to talk about anything seriously after three pints of beer and Fireball shots she has stopped counting, but wasn’t that the whole point of the whole undertaking? Even though she’s had moments when something approaching a shiver ran down her spine at stories told over coffee, but this is probably her favorite way of getting away from things. Everything. 

Later, she talks to a friend Mats has brought along from university, and when he offers to buy her a drink and they stand at the bar Anni lets the young man whose name she doesn’t remember shove a hand into the back pocket of her jeans because now she’s sure that Päivi is watching and has acknowledged her presence. Of course Päivi’s presence also means that she goes home with him, smiling brightly and regaling him with tales about Namibia she wishes she could be more serious about. But sometimes you have to make a choice. 

The next day, Anni has received a Facebook message from Päivi, but she doesn’t open it until much later, when she’s already safely sitting on the plane on the runway of Vantaa airport. 

Hey, I saw you at Alepubi yesterday. I called over to you but you didn’t respond?

Sorry, she types. Guess I didn’t hear you. Pity. Well, we gotta meet when I’m in town next time!

With her heart lurching rather than beating, Anni shuts off the phone in time for take-off and takes out her “Teach yourself Ukrainian”-book.