After work (we nabbed a psycho wife killer), I head into the Annapolis Police Department. I had called earlier about my parents' case. They were now re-opening it, and wanted to talk to me. I head to the stairs, and walk up to the second floor.
I knock on the office door that states; "Detective John Hans", and it quickly opens. A man in his late fifties holds out his hand politely.
"Special Agent Bianchi?" He questions.
I nod, and accept his handshake.
"Why don't you come in?"
"Okay.'' I enter his office and he ushers me to sit down. I take a seat across from his desk. That's when the questions start.
He asks me everything that can be asked, even though many I had already answered. 10 years ago.
"Okay, Ms. Bianchi, thank you for your time. We'll contact you if we find anything out." He says half an hour later. I stand up.
"Thank you." I exit his office.
As I head towards the elevator, I acknowledge my gut feeling. This guy was not going to solve my parents' murder. I could tell that to him this case was old news, and finding the bodies of my family had only confirmed what they already knew. My parents were dead. They had the remains, but that didn't help much. It was as much of a cold case as ever. He had gone through the formality of questions only to humour me.
But it didn't matter. I didn't need his help. I would solve the case myself.