4
LOGAN
Amber eyes meet my gaze through the small window of the cell door. Mrs. Holton’s courage disappears as quickly as it came, because upon seeing me, she stops knocking and backs away from the door.
“I should do the talking,” Max says.
I silence him with a flick of my wrist. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep his mouth shut from now on.
“No, you shouldn’t. Now open the door.”
The lock releases with a hiss, and I enter the small cell. With every step I take toward her, Mrs. Holton takes one back, until she runs into the grimy wall behind her. She avoids looking directly at me—good—and when she notices the handcuffs dangling from my belt, she turns so white I’m worried we have to postpone the interrogation. Again.
“How are we gonna do it, Mrs. Holton? You’re going to cause me trouble or not?”
“Let me go,” she says, her voice weak and almost inaudible.
“I think my question was pretty easy to understand.” I come closer until we’re only inches apart. “Let’s try again. Areyou cooperating, or do you want me to use these?” I say, gesturing at the handcuffs.
Not that I need them to handle her, or anyone else. They are purely for my enjoyment. I’m sure I could make her crawl over to the interrogation room just by staring at her for a few minutes. Wouldn’t be the first time.
She holds her shaky hands out to me, making me raise my eyebrows before I turn around to face Max.
“Take her.” I have to stop spoiling him so much. “Room 2.”
He mumbles something once he’s by her side and I refuse to watch how he leads her over to the other room. Probably holding her goddamn hand like they are preschoolers. He wouldn’t miss any opportunity to touch his new obsession.
I have never seen him go crazy over a girl.Never, and I don’t appreciate this weird deviation from his usual behavior.
With every step I take toward the interrogation room, my frustration grows. And when Max guides Mrs. Holton to a chair, pulling it out for her like they are on some kind of date night, I stop giving a shit about Rockwell’s request.
“Hands on the table, all the time,” I snarl. “You put them where I can’t see them, even for a fucking second…” I dangle the handcuffs in front of Mrs. Holton’s face while Max takes the chair across from her, kicking my shin.
“Why am I—“
“Next rule:Iam the one asking questions.”
Now I remember why I prefer doing interrogations in the other room. Room 2 is narrow, too narrow. With the desk standing against the wall, it’s impossible to stalk around my captive the way I want to. It’s where I take people after they no longer provide me with useful information. The drain in the middle of the room makes cleanup easier.
Someone knocks on the door, giving Mrs. Holton a moment to get herself together. On the way down here, Irealized I forgot her file in my room, so I texted Charlie to bring it to me.
“Thanks,” I say, ready to close the door again. He continues to look into the room and I sigh. “We have stuff to do, Hunter. Go play with the other kids.”
His jaw clenches, but he vanishes without another word. I don’t want him down here. He isn’t made for this. But neither Rockwell nor Cantrell want to listen to me, and it’s not like I could kick him out.
“Lillian Holton,” I read out loud while closing the cell door. “Married to Brady Holton, moved to California two years ago. Graduated with honors, now working at Fairburn Springs Elementary. Just a quick question, Mrs. Holton. Is it usual for teachers to get paid in cash, or is there another reason for the repeated deposits in your account?”
Her brows furrow in confusion, and she shakes her head.
“I give tutoring lessons—“
“Maybe I should think about a career change, never knew you could make two grand a week with a little tutoring.”
“This can’t be right,” she mumbles, trying to look at the documents in my hand.
“So you’re saying I’m too dumb to read a bank statement? Fine, see for yourself then.”
I slam the documents on the metal table. Countless bank statements, a ton of credit card bills, and all of it is running in her name. Her hands get shakier with every piece of paper she checks out.
