“Whooptie-fuckin’-do, get in line. What d’ya want?”
Without taking my eyes off him, I put my hand on the table and tap the folder with my index finger. “This is an impressive list of charges.”
“I aim to please.” He fans his arms out to his sides like he’s going to take a bow.
Leaning back in my chair, I let my knees fall apart like I own the place to take up as much space as possible, it sometimes makes people uncomfortable. “I want to talk to you about where you were the night of July twentieth.”
Hescoffs. “I was at home. In bed.”
He’s not even trying to be convincing, he’s being as sarcastic and condescending as possible.
“Is there anyone who can back that up?”
He smiles, his brown eyes full of mockery. “My dog.”
Maintaining my stare, I go to the next question. “What about the next day, on the twenty-first?”
He haughtily cups his chin with his fingers and looks up at the ceiling like he’s thinking. “Well, first I had brunch with the mayor, then I went for a walk through downtown to smell the roses.” He laughs and sets his hand on the table. “Man, whatever you’re trying to pin on me aint gonna stick.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why is that?”
He lifts his eyebrows and smirks. “’Cause my boss is everywhere. You can’t stick nothin’ on me.”
“Is that so? Who’s your boss?”
“Wouldn’t you like to…”
Behind me, Sanders interrupts him and pushes off the wall. “Just tell him we’re charging him with murder so we can get out of here. I’m fucking hungry.”
Finney’s eyes go wide as all humor falls from his face. “I didn’t fuckin’ kill nobody.”
Got him.
“I beg to differ. We got you outside on Second and Elgin stabbing a man nearly in the middle of the street.” It’s my turn to lean back in my chair and look bored.
He’s quiet. I can see the wheels turning as he considers what he’s going to say. If he says he wasn’t the one who stabbed him, it puts him at the scene.
I go on. “The same man who was mixing at his house. By the state of his house, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess it was unauthorized. And then there’s the issue of the drugs from his house in the trunk of your car.”
A sheen of sweat is on his forehead, and he’s rolling hisneck from one shoulder to the other, but he’s trying to act uninterested. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fuck me, why do we have to jump through all these hoops, just tell him we’ve got surveillance across the street and an eyewitness so I can get some fucking lunch.” Sanders says behind me, raising his voice.
He may be an asshole, but he’s good at interrogation.
I watch the moment Finney realizes he’s busted. He turns his head to look at the other wall in irritation before he looks back at me. “What eyewitness? You mean that sexy little blonde? I’d like to get me a piece of that. She better watch her back ‘cause she’s about to get fucked ten ways from Sunday, if you know what I mean.”
The blood in my veins runs white-hot with rage as I look at him. It takes everything I have not to jump the fucking table and rip his esophagus out with my bare fucking hands. I’m so pissed that I don’t realize I’ve clenched my fist lying on the table.
Finney looks down at my fist, and a slow smirk forms on his face before he looks back up at me. “But you’re already fucking ‘er, ain’t ya, special agent in charge?” He sneers my credentials.
Fuck.
A rustling behind me tells me that Sanders has walked up behind me and sets his hands on the table. “Are you the one who broke into her house?” His tone is conversational, as if the thought just occurred to him. What he’s actually doing is trying to save this interview before I fuck it up.
“Fuck no! When they told me she lived on a horse ranch, I told ‘em to go fuck themselves. Those cowboys keep guns on their damn nightstand.”
“Then who?” I ask, keeping my voice calm.
