Interrogation

I pulled into the station lot, braking so hard my tires screeched. I had a feeling I wouldn’t see my car again for a while. Wobbly legs took me through the glass doors where the captain was waiting in the foyer.

“Hi, John. Please follow me to my office,” he said. He was stiffer than he’d been on the phone earlier this morning. His gestures were too professional and he didn’t turn to face me a single time until he sat at his desk.

“Why don’t you walk me through your day. Seems eventful.”

I swallowed hard, then cleared my throat to cover the anxiety threatening to burst through my chest. I started with my “discovery” of the courier’s body and how I checked for vitals and ID. Then the unfortunate and wholly unexpected onset of rain, the changing of my clothes, and my decision to leave the scene early.

“Yes,” said the captain. “Why did you leave?”

“I just couldn’t stomach it any longer, plus I was soaked to the bone. Figured the CSI had what they needed from me.” I shrugged, feeling like my shoulders were floating near my ears.

“I see. Was it a straight shot home?”

“No, I got coffee—”

“You stopped for coffee and then made another within the hour? Why?”

“I…to warm up,” I said lamely.

“I see.”

The captain’s gaze was unflinchingly stern. He knew. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Stevie can finish catching me up," he said. "I want to talk about your brother.”

A/N: This is my poor attempt at continuing Raymond Taylor's scintillating "Telltale Crimson Trail" crime-mystery series. Click the link above to find out more about his micro fiction community challenge.

Part 7: