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I picture driving over him with my car before stopping and reversing and doing it again and again.
“This way, Mr. Ward.”
I turn back to Agent Davis and reluctantly follow as he leads me over to the other side of the room.
“Alright.” He pulls out a pen and a small notepad and looks up at me as I lean against the windowsill. “Walk me through what happened.”
“We were in the kitchen. Rue was making breakfast when we heard a thump at the door. A second later, we saw the paperboy ride past on his bike and throw a paper at the neighbor’s door. We both assumed it was the paper being delivered, so Rue went to get it. It was stupid, really. I had just woken up. It’s not an excuse, but if I had been thinking clearly, I would have gone to the door.” I run my hands through my hair, my eyes drifting over to Rue, who is talking to the other agent, mostly ignoring Hask beside her.
“It wasn’t the paperboy?”
I turn my attention back to Agent Davis.
“The thump on the door,” he prompts.
“No, it was. I remember seeing it on the step. I shouted to Rue, asking if she wanted juice or coffee, and when she didn’t answer, I went to check on her. I found her staring down at the step. The paper was there, next to an overturned plant pot, but there was a smashed music box there, too. Rue was in the middle of a panic attack, so I made her breathe with me and brought her inside. We had just made it into the living room when she froze. After a few minutes, she fell to the floor, scaring the shit out of me. Once she was awake and I knew she was okay, I called the cops and the EMTs to check her over.”
“Did she tell you what she saw?”
I shake my head before I stop. “A few minutes ago, she mentioned how the vision was dark, but she knew what the victim looked like. It confused her. She also said it didn’t feel like a city. It was someplace more remote, but she didn’t know why she thought that.”
A glance over at her shows her talking away, gesturing wildly with her hands.
“How do you know, Miss Anderson?”
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“And yet nobody seemed to know you were dating each other.”
“Was I supposed to post it on social media announcing it to the world?”
“You have to admit, it looks suspicious. You, the prime suspect. Miss Anderson, in theory, our only witness.”
“And this is why we didn’t go public. Rue worked hard to help you find a killer, and she almost lost her life in the process. She didn’t want her work or word questioned because of who she was sleeping with.”
“You have to understand why people would see it as a conflict of interest.”
“I’m not guilty of a crime here, Agent Davis. Rue knew it wasn’t me the first time she called and asked to interview me. Her faith in me never wavered. The police, in particular Nathan Hask, are a different story.”
“Do you and Detective Hask have a history?”
“I knew him when I was a teenager, though I use the term loosely. I was more familiar with his deceased brother. But honestly, Agent Davis, they were both assholes. To be honest, so was I. Most teenagers are. The difference between Hask and me now, though, is that only one of us seems to have grown up.”
He pauses his writing to look up at me. “You own a company that created Sono-d, and you have a link to each of the victims. Your relationship with Miss Anderson is yet another link.”
“I’m not stupid, Agent Davis. I understand all this. That’s why I’ve been as patient and accommodating as I have been. But while you’re all focusing on me, the real killer is still out there.” I look toward the doorway when a woman walks in wearing a pair of glasses far too big for her face and carrying a briefcase.
“That’s the sketch artist,” Agent Davis informs me as he taps his pen on his pad. “You said you and Miss Anderson were having breakfast. What time did you arrive?”
I roll my eyes. “Around nine thirty last night. I stayed the night, in case that’s your next question, and Rue was downstairs cooking before I woke up.”
He takes down what I say. As if sensing my growing frustration, he puts the pen and pad back in his pocket. “I’m not the enemy here.”
“Funny, I think that should be my line.” I rub my eyes. “I didn’t hear anyone outside until the paper hit the door, and I didn’t see anything last night when I arrived. So whoever delivered it did so between ten o’clock last night and eight this morning. I don’t know who the kid is that delivers the paper, but maybe they saw something?”
“We’ll look into it. In the meantime, if you think of anything else, give me a call.” He hands me a business card. I don’t bother looking at it and just shove it into my back pocket. “You’re free to go for now, Mr. Ward, but don’t leave the country.”
“I’m willing to surrender my passport until things are cleared up, but I still need to travel out of state for business on occasions.”
