“I shit you not.” Gunnar scowled. “You willing to go through with it?”
“Too fucking right I am. You really mean it?” Scott’s tone got softer.
“He’s a wolf. He isn’t going to lie to you,” Bryn said.
It was a few more minutes before they were joined by the superintendent, who seemed harried to the point of an impending nervous breakdown. When he spoke, his accent was all Georgia peaches and cream.
“Gentlemen, I apologize for keeping you waiting. Shall we get this show on the road?”
“I need skin-to-skin contact, Mr. Scott.” Bryn held out his hand. Scott grabbed it, the strength of his grip making Bryn wince.
“Ease off, Dwayne,” Gunnar said. “He doesn’t need broken fingers.”
Bryn gave him a grateful glance and shifted his grip to Dwayne’s wrist before closing his eyes for focus. He gave the briefest of nods.
“Dwayne Scott, on September fifteenth, five years ago, were you in the vicinity of the 7-Eleven on Berkeley?” Gunnar asked.
“Yeah, I was. Had to pick up some meds from the late-night pharmacy.”
“Truth,” Bryn confirmed.
“Did you enter the 7-Eleven with the intention of robbing the store?”
“No. Didn’t go in there.”
“Truth.”
“Were you armed that night?”
“No.”
“Truth.”
“Have you ever knowingly committed a crime?” Gunnar asked.
“Shit, man…I maybe smoked some weed a few years back.”
“Truth.”
“You deal?”
“Fuck no. I ain’t into no shit like that.”
“Truth.”
“Okay, Bryn is going to look at your memories now.”
Bryn changed his focus. “Cute kid. He’s holding a baby, saying well done to a woman in the hospital.”
“My boy. He’s almost six now.” Scott’s voice trembled. “I won’t let his momma bring him here. She’s stuck by me, though.”
“Future intent then, Bryn.”
“Hugging his kid. Taking him to the park. Going bowling…”
“Okay, I think we’re done here. Superintendent, you have any more questions you need answered?”
“No. It seems that a grave miscarriage of justice has occurred. I’ll expedite Mr. Scott’s release as soon as possible.”
