“He looks scared.”
I wish Jonesy would shut up. I don’t need him narrating this interview, but he’s always been a talker. It’s been this way since college. He couldn’t just read about cases; he had to go through them one by one, analyzing, getting opinions, collaborating with others. I don’t mind other opinions. I just like to read about them rather than someone using their tone of voice or body language to convince me to agree.
Detective Williams begins the interview, confirming his and Officer Sanchez’s names and checking that Maddox was read his rights when he was arrested. He asks Maddox if he needs anything: the bathroom, food, or a soda.
He shakes his head, eyes wide as if a judge and jury were sitting in the room with him. He glances sporadically at the one-way mirror, and even though I know he can’t see us, I know he knows we’re watching.
“Then let's begin.”
???
Jonesy and I are still in the interview viewing room three shitty coffees and two hours later. It was an intense watch; they usually are when a murder is involved. However, Jonesy’s stark expression throughout the interview had me feelingexposed.
I’d hardened myself over the years to extreme acts of violence. It wasn’t until last year, working onThe Posercase, that I felt the effects of a case. This is normal for me. Hearing someone cry that they hadn’t committed a crime, even in the face of obvious evidence, is normal. People will try to convince you of anything when they’re within these four walls. The cinder blocks start to feel like they’re closing in on you as the reality of your situation hits. This is happening. You’ve been caught. You’ll likely never be free again.
And he shouldn’t. If the evidence is correct, Connor Maddox is an incredibly violent individual who, despite showing no previous signs of aggression, has committed an atrocious act of violence against a young woman. She’s dead, and it’s our responsibility to put the evidence together and determine for her loved ones whether he is the one responsible.
As Detective Williams wraps up, informing the suspect and his lawyer that they will be resuming the interview tomorrow morning, he slips out of the room with Sanchez, and the door to our viewing room opens. I hand him a cup of coffee and watch as Jonesy’s eyes follow the movement of my hand, the muscle in his jaw ticking as if he’s clenching his teeth.
“Thanks, you’re an angel.” Detective Williams winks.
Chapter Four
Jonesy
Detective Biceps has to go. Aside from the fact that he is ogling Katie like she is some kind of protein snack he wants to eat before a workout, he’s clearly already decided the suspect is guilty. Something I’m not convinced of. He was shaking as if a light breeze could push him off his chair. He whimpered out his responses, cried the entire time, and now some poor soul has to dispose of twelve soggy used tissues. Not the reaction of a man who’d murdered someone in cold blood. But still, the evidence is clearly against him. Detective Biceps certainly threw what they had at him, including grainy CCTV footage of a man wearing the same clothes Maddox did last night. And yet, the clench of my jaw and the pinch of my brow scream that we’re missing something here. Unfortunately, Biceps doesn’t feel the same. He’s swaggered back into the private viewing room like a peacock fluffing up his feathers.
God, the man is annoying, and what’s worseis Katie seems to be enjoying his attention as much as Officer Sanchez hates that it isn’t aimed at her. Whether Katie is doing it to piss me off is unclear. Perhaps she and the detective are more than just colleagues.
“What are your thoughts, Katie?”
Katie. Not Dr. Murphy.
They’re fucking.
They must be.
I tell myself I don’t care. She’s fucked plenty of people over the years, and, sure, it’s aggravated me. Mostly because her attention wasn’t solely focused on me and our relentless pursuit of annoying each other. She’d behave to prove that she’ll pander to literally anyone but me, which would ultimately lead to me behaving considerably worse until her true she-devil self was unleashed. But she works with Biceps. If they’re seeing each other, it wouldn’t be casual. Katie isn’t one to shit where she eats. Not unless there are real feelings, that is.
It is kind of odd that she hasn’t brought him to our dinner club yet, though. But maybe that means she’s actually serious about him. The realization has the room shrinking a couple of inches. A solid weight on my chest has my blood pumping far too slowly. The collar of my shirt is suddenly a little tight as I try to pull it down and away from my throat. Katie glances over at me, a pinch creating a small line between her brows. Surely that can’t be a look of concern on her face?Not for me.
“Feeling alright there, buddy?” Biceps slaps a large hand down onto my shoulder and squeezes like he’s a father introducing himself to his daughter’s prom date. It’s not a comforting squeeze; it’s a warning. He may as well piss a circle around her next time.
“Fine and dandy,” I choke out.
Fine and dandy.A phrase I have never used in my life, and the line between Katie’s brows deepens.
What does their relationship mean for us? Notus...I just mean our game. What does it mean if she gets married and has beautiful babies with an annoyingly handsome man who opens jars for her with his death grip fingers? Are we still going to fight? To bicker? Are we going to have a chance to share that stupidly comfortable bed again, or was that my one chance?
My one shot. Wasted. I wasted it.
I can’t believe it.
I can’t believe she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend as she cuddled my forearm between her perfect breasts. That is a low blow. It’s like she planned this, although I know it’s not possible. I’m not an idiot. The murder didn’t even take place until after we woke up together, but still.
Katie interrupts my spiraling thought process. “His facial expressions don’t line up with someone who is guilty. He lookedgenuinely disgusted with the footage and images you showed him of the crime scene.”
“He’s a good actor,” Officer Sanchez says, and the detective nods.
