“What?” A look of panic was settling in his eyes and he swallowed, glancing from Corrigan to Bryce. Then he found me again. A pleading tone entered his voice, along with a slight tremble. “Sheldon, come on.”
Corrigan blocked me. “Don’t look at her. We’re asking the questions.”
“Guys,” Michael choked out now. “Come on.”
Bryce barked at him, “Come on, Ritt. Start talking. We know you have surveillance photos of her.”
“You what?”
“The cops told us.” Bryce began circling him, talking in a low voice.
If he wasn’t going for scary as shit, then he was grossly missing his mark because, damn, I had shivers going up and down my spine, and I wasn’t the one in the chair. Ritt’s trembling was contagious. I was starting to feel it in my gut, too. Along with it was hesitation. What the hell were we doing?
Then Corrigan added, a dangerous aura coming off him, “You think we’d let you go? Let the cops cut you loose and not do a thing? They told us what they had on you for a reason, Ritt. Over fifty photos of Sheldon. Please.” He stopped in front of his chair and leaned down, placing his hands on the arm rests. His face was so close to Ritt’s. He was almost breathing on him. “Explain to us how you’re not the one stalking her?”
“Did you kill Grace?” Bryce asked from behind him.
Corrigan added next. “Did you frame Sheldon for Grace’s murder?”
I watched and realized they were tag teaming. They were both going at him from different angles, different tone of voices, different threat levels. Corrigan was soft and menacing. Bryce was commanding and angry. Both were a threat, and they were both going full-force at Ritt.
They wanted to scare him off-balance. He might crack then.
It wasn’t going to work. Ritt was already panicked, but there was also a calmness in him. He wasn’t jerking around his chair. He was still perplexed he was even in this situation.
He wasn’t going to take it seriously.
He knew Bryce and Corrigan wouldn’t really do anything to him, at least, nothing permanent like death or paralysis. They’d kick his ass, but that was it.
It had to be me. I had to do it. I was the wild card. Ritt really had no clue who I really was. My chin lifted.
It was time he met the real me.
As I made the decision, I felt something melting away in me. The old Sheldon was coming out to play, and she was going to have fun. No. She was going to relish this moment. As I stepped forward, the guys sensed the switch in me. Corrigan stiffened with his back to me. Bryce looked up, and his eyes widened. His shoulders jerked back, and he narrowed his eyes next. Ritt saw me as I stood next to Corrigan.
He looked confused.
Poor guy.
Corrigan glanced sideways at me, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Bryce. They were waiting.
Our old dynamic really was back.
Then I spied the knife in Corrigan’s back pocket. As I took it out, he frowned at me. He still didn’t say anything.
Ritt sucked in his breath. His eyes got even bigger. “Uh, what? What are you going to do with that, Sheldon?” His wrists were taped to the chair, and his hands curled into the armrests. His feet were planted against the floor, and he tried to scoot the chair back.
It scooted right into Bryce.
Ritt looked up, saw that Bryce wasn’t moving, and groaned. “Oh no.”
I held the knife in front of me and looked at it. It was so small, so sleek, but so lethal at the same time. It was perfect. I murmured, “You know, Ritt, these guys grabbed you to ask a few questions.” I looked up and met his gaze over the knife’s blade. “But I have a feeling you’re not inclined to answer them.” I brandished the knife, waving it back and forth. It was almost pretty as the light reflected off it. “So I’m going to give you an incentive.”
“W-w-what are you talking about?” He swallowed again. “What kind of incentive?”
I grinned at him.
He sucked in his breath, knowing his question had been the wrong question to ask.