INTERROGATION
“This is just routine,ma’am. I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.” The officer looked at me in the rear-view mirror and smiled. He had soft brown eyes and narrow lips. I knew if I turned the heat up, I could convince him to let me go. But what would that do for me? Then I would be on the run, believed to be guilty. Because no one runs unless they’re guilty. There can be no other reasons, at least not in the court of law.
I smiled back and looked out the window, wondering how bad this was going to be. They already had my hair, even if they didn’t know that’s what it was yet. It was only a matter of time before they figured it out.
“Just tell the truth. That’s all anyone expects from you.”
I looked back at the man, allowing my brain to stop wandering, and tilted my head with consideration. “You don’t believe I did any of it?”
He shook his head. “No offense, but you look like a nice person. I usually have pretty good intuition when it comes to things like this. Plus, you’re very dainty and whoever did this overpowered grown men. I think you might know something, but I don’t think you’re our killer.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“Just calling it how I see it.” He turned into the parking lot, and I caught a glimpse of Sterling’s car close behind us. “We’re not going to cuff you or anything like that. You’re not under arrest. If you feel like things are getting too hot, just ask for a lawyer. That will stop everything and give you time to compose yourself.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that. I also think that if I ask for an attorney, it will make me look more guilty than some people may already think I am.” I was not falling into that trap.
The officer cleared his throat as he picked a spot and parked. “Or it could protect you.”
“You don’t have any reason to protect me. You don’t know me from anyone else you’re sent to bring in. Please don’t play games with me.”
Sterling jerked my door open and extended his palm. “This way, Ms. Brooks.” His eyes looked concerned, but the set of his jaw said he wasn’t going to give anything away. I respected his ability to play the role he needed to play to protect us both. It also made a ball of fear form in my gut, knowing he could portray himself anyway he liked with no one the wiser.
I took his hand and allowed him to escort me inside.
“There is a metal detector ahead. Empty your pockets and put everything in a bin, including your belt and shoes, please.” Always the gentleman, he offered his arm while I slipped my heels off my feet. Other than my footwear, I only had my phone, and they gave neither back to me on the other side. “You’ll get them back when they are done questioning you.” He answered the question I hadn’t voiced.
I followed him with the other officer trailing us to a room with only a table that was bolted to the floor and four chairs. The carpet was indoor outdoor style, brown grossness that was covered in stains of which I couldn’t identify. The chairs were standard metal with plastic seats and backs. The plastic had been white at one point in time, but now was brown from use. Would it be inappropriate to ask for a wet wipe?
Sterling saw my apprehension but didn’t comment on it. The other officer attempted to apologize about the state of the room, but I ignored him.
I took a seat, and the two men left the room, closing the door behind them. And then I sat, and sat, and sat. At least two hours had passed before I heard anyone outside, and my heart started to beat faster in anticipation. Was this all part of the interrogation process? To bore you to death, then sweep in when you’re ready to say anything they want to hear to get you out of that room?
A slender woman walked in carrying a folder followed by another man I’d never seen before. I was hoping Sterling would be in the room, but no such luck. The woman looked as if she had better places to be. Her eyes landed on me for a moment, and she looked away quickly as if displeased. The man carefully looked me up and down when he thought I wasn’t looking, lingering for an obscene amount of time on my breasts. Probably good Sterling wasn’t in the room after all.
“Can you state your name please?” the woman asked, settling into her seat.
“Dahlia Brooks,” I said, watching her to try to identify her weakness.
“State your date of birth, please?” She didn’t raise her eyes from the papers she read from.
I wondered if she wanted the real date, or the one stated on my license. “April 10th, 1995. Would you like my bank account information as well? Maybe my social security number?”
“These are all standard questions, Ms. Brooks. We have to make sure we are talking to who we think we are talking to before we can proceed. Can you state your address and phone number, please?”
I gave her the information.
“Ms. Brooks, are you aware that we have you on camera with all the people who were recently murdered by an unknown assailant?” Her eyebrows raised as she spoke, as if she were giving me super-secret information.
I decided to play dumb.
“I thought you brought me here to talk about CeeCee. I wasn’t aware there were other deaths. As you can imagine, I’m still pretty upset about my friend being killed. I haven’t been watching the news because every time they show her face, I start crying. So, if something else has happened, I’m not aware of it.” I kept my hand in my lap and maintained direct eye contact with her. The male officer wrote everything I said into a notebook.
“You don’t look overly upset now,” she said.
“I’ve composed myself so I can be as useful to you as possible. That doesn’t mean I won’t break down later.”
She mumbled something to the man that I didn’t catch, and he nodded. “These murders occurred before Cecilia’s death. I don’t imagine you would have missed those news broadcasts.” She pulled a stack of photos out of the folder on the desk and laid them out for me to see. All of them were photos from the crime scenes of the men I’d fed from. CeeCee’s picture came out last. “Do you recognize the people in these pictures?”
The room began to spin. I couldn’t look at their dead eyes and keep it together. I remembered the red sheets covered with Isaac’s blood and my body gave up the goat. I turned in my seat and without a receptacle being anywhere near, I vomited on the carpet. So that was why it was so stained. Gross.
“Ms. Brooks, are you okay?” she feigned concern.
“No, I’m not. You could warn me before you pull out photos like that. I have a thing about blood.” I heaved a few more times after I said the word and tried to look at her once more. I kept my eyes straight up and away from the faces on the table. “I can’t look at those. Can you please put them away?”