He opens his jacket to reveal a badge. A police badge.
“What’s this about?” I think I know. Travis the snake is going to hear about this.
“Let’s move over to the family room.” He points to our right.
I nod and glance around the place, looking for either of my friends. Reinforcements are what I need now.
In the family room, the officer starts to shut the door, but I shake him off. “I don’t know you. Leave that open, please.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” Pulling my phone from my purse, I shoot off a text to Laura and Nate, alerting them of my current situation. When it’s sent, I look up at the man. “May I please see your badge again?”
He pulls it from inside his breast pocket. He flashes it quickly, but I hold out my hand. “I want to see it.”
When it’s close enough, I snap a photo of it. “Detective Morris? Des Moines Police Department.”
“That’s correct.”
I’m tempted to do a search of his name, but just as I’m about to say more, Nate appears in the doorway. Thank goodness.
“What’s going on?” he asks, frowning at the other man.
“This is Detective Morris of the Des Moines Police. He wants to ask me some questions.”
“Fucking Travis,” Nate mutters.
“Mm-hmm.” I totally agree.
“What do you want to ask me, Detective?”
He pulls a small notebook and a short pencil from one of his pockets. It’s just like on television. I’d think it was cool if he weren’t questioning me for someone’s murder. “Where were you between the hours of 9 and 10 PM on the night of…”
He recites the date of Celeste’s hit and run.
“I was in the Oakbrook Urgent Care ward with him.” I point at Nate. “He had hives.”
“You were there all evening?”
“From about 5 until after midnight.”
“Do you feel there are people who can corroborate your story?”
“Yes. I signed his release papers, and I was with him the entire time.”
Detective Morris shuts his notebook and places in the same pocket he retrieved it. “Thank you, Mrs. Coleman.”
Nate growls at the reference, but I pat his arm.
As the officer starts to leave, I ask, “So, you haven’t caught who did it yet?”
The detective swivels on his feet, facing me. “We recovered the car. That’s it.”
“Oh.” That’s something. “No fingerprints?”
“Wiped clean.”
“That’s too bad.”
