"We're not in a relationship," I said.
That devilish smirk curled her plump lips. "Oh yes, we are. An adversarial relationship, but a relationship nonetheless.”
“Adversarial?”
“You're a deputy, I’m a suspect. I would very much like to change the dynamic of that relationship. I thought I had eliminated myself from your suspect list, but it seems you still have questions. How about I come down to the station and take a lie detector test? Would that satisfy your curiosity?”
"Lie detectors aren't admissible in court."
"I'm not concerned about court, Deputy. I just want us to be on the same page. Then I can just be a widow, and you can investigate someone else.”
19
The polygraph tech rigged Tiffany up to the machine in the interrogation room. Hooked to a small laptop, the device measured changes in heartbeat, respiration, blood pressure, galvanic skin response, along with sensors to detect movement. It was a state-of-the-art machine that rarely saw any use. More of an intimidation tactic than anything else. They weren't admissible in a court of law. Still, sometimes they could scare someone into the truth.
Video cameras captured the session. JD and I sat across the table from Tiffany, along with the technician. The sheriff watched from the observation room.
I asked a series of control questions to establish her baseline response to known answers. “Is your full legal name Tiffany Madison?”
“Yes. Well, Tiffany Elise Madison, if you want to get technical.”
“Are you at the Coconut County Sheriff’s Office?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Yes or no, please.”
“Yes.”
“Are we in the state of Florida?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever lied?”
She laughed. “Who hasn’t?”
“Try not to laugh. It could affect the results.”
“Aye-aye, Captain. I’ll keep it serious.” She pretended to put on an intense expression.
“Have you ever lied?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever lied to any law enforcement officers?”
“I’m sure I have.”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
These questions were designed to provoke a small stress response.
“Have you ever lied to me?”
She looked me dead in the eye. “No.”