"Everyone's innocent until they're not," he replied, his tone even but his eyes skeptical. "We need to follow every lead, Agent Thomas. You should know this, being an agent and all."
"Leads? He's her best friend! They grew up together. There’s no way they could have been kissing. My daughter is gay." My voice rose despite my control, the maternal instinct to protect Olivia wrestling with my trained calm.
“Mo-om!” Olivia said, terrified.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” I said. “You were just good friends?”
"Friends can hide truths too," the detective murmured, more to himself than to me, a slight crease forming between his brows.
"Olivia, I need you to answer some questions," the detective said, his tone calculated. His eyes softened ever so slightly as they found Olivia's frightened gaze.
"Can't you see she's terrified?" My words lashed out, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to strike. But he was unyielding, his duty clear in his mind.
"Ma'am, it's necessary." His voice carried the weight of authority, but there was a tremor of reluctance that betrayed his understanding of her fragile state.
The room had become a living entity, its breath held tight as the detective stepped closer to Olivia. She looked small, folded into herself like a bird protecting its broken wing.
"Is this really needed now?" I challenged, stepping between them, the shield to her vulnerability.
"It’s procedure," he insisted, though his caution spoke volumes. He knew the volatility of the waters he was navigating. “She is most likely the last person to have seen him alive.”
“At least take her somewhere private,” I said.
"Mom, it's okay," Olivia whispered, her voice a thread of silk that might snap at any moment.
"Like hell it is," I muttered under my breath, but I stepped aside, my presence a sentinel beside her.
"Olivia, where were you last night?" His question hung in the air, each word a stone thrown into the stillness.
"After dinner… I… I walked the beach with Mark like we’ve been doing every night while here, just as friends, goofing around," Olivia stammered, her hands trembling like leaves in the wind. “And then I went back to bed.”
“What time was that? What time did you start walking together?”
“I don’t know. Eight o’clock, perhaps?”
"Can anyone confirm that you went back to bed?" The detective's eyes never left her face, always searching for a crack in the facade.
“N-no. My mom was already asleep when I came back.”
"And when was the last time you saw Mark?" The detective nodded, scribbling notes in his little black book.
“H-he… at the beach. I left him and went to bed. I assumed he went back to his own bed to sleep. When I woke up this morning, it was because I heard someone screaming.”
“I see. And when was this? When did you go to bed?”
“I don’t know. Around ten o’clock, perhaps?”
“And did you two fight about anything?” the detective asked.
Olivia looked frightened. “F-fight? What do you mean by that?”
“Did you have any argument, any disputes of any sort?”
A murmur swept through the crowd, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of doubt. Whispers curled into the air, each one a viper waiting to strike.
"Enough!" I exclaimed, my voice ringing out, silencing the murmurs. "You've got your answers."
"Agent Thomas, please." The detective's admonition was gentle, a plea for composure.
