“And we explained why that wasn’t a very good idea,” I add. “She was adamant.”
“More proof she’s incapable of giving consent!”
“Please, Mr. Prim.” Drake points toward the back corner of the bullpen. “It would help Tara tremendously if you’d speak with us. We still have time to work on damage control here.”
“Damage control?” he sputters. “There’s no damage to control. Not as far as my family is concerned. There is only damage that the department would like to control. You assholes entrapped a minor into confessing to a crime she never committed.”
“But she said?—”
“It doesn’t matter what she said!” he roars. “I literally don’t give a single shit what words came out of her mouth. They don’t exist anymore, because you didn’t get consent, she didn’t have her parents, and you tricked her into speaking without a lawyer.”
“That’s three strikes,” Scott gloats. “You idiots aresooooout of a job.”
“Where is she?” Mrs. Prim stumbles forward, shaking and clutching a wad of tissues in her hand. “Please tell me where she is.”
“If you could just give us twenty minutes?” I try again. “It would be better for everyone if we could ask you questions before we take you to h?—”
“SHOW ME TO MY DAUGHTER!” Geoffrey barks. “Take me to her now!”
“For fuck’s sake.” Drake pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. But he gestures toward her interview room and ignores my fiery glare. “This way. I’ll show you?—”
“Detective Banks! Procedure says?—”
“Procedure says I have a mortgage to pay and a job I’d like to keep. The girl has a right to her parents being present at all times, and not all of us had rich daddies to fund our way through life. Shut the fuck up and let me get on with things.”
“Finally,” Geoffrey sneers. “At least one of you has a backbone.”
“Come on.” Drake leads the Prim trio away, his hand on Rhonda’s back and his head bobbing in response to something Scott says.
His words don’t quite make it all the way to my ears.
Fabian glares, a dozen other detectives warm the back of my neck with their stares, and then Officer Clay bounds out of the observation room a mere second before Drake leads them into Tara’s room.
He and Drake exchange words. A handshake. A nod of their heads. Then they part again and go their separate ways.
“Detective Malone?” Fabian barks out my name and lifts a single, commanding brow. “Don’t you have a job to do?”
You have fresh IDs, money in the bank, and a super yacht you could retire on.
Call Mayet and beg her to retire and don a bikini for the rest of her life.
You have fresh IDs, money in the bank, and a super yacht you could retire on.
“Malone?”
“Yeah.” I exhale a frustrated breath and tip my head back. But I walk toward Tara’s interview room and kiss that calmness she and I shared when it was just us goodbye. Now Scott and Geoffrey Prim are here, and they demand to be the biggest ball sacks in any given space. Shaking myhead, I paste on the fakest bullshit expression I can muster, then push through the door and walk face-first into absolute chaos.
These interview rooms are ten feet wide and eight feet deep, and the one-way mirror doesnothingto make the space feel larger.Thisinterview room consists of four grown-ass men, two sobbing women, and a whole lot of fucking noise as Scott berates his sister, Rhonda hugs her daughter, Geoffrey cites case law he pulled off the internet, and Drake massages his temple like the worst part of his day is the mild headache brewing there.
“Why would you admit to a crime you never committed?” Scott paces the limited space, his booming voice creating a fucking echo as it bounces from wall to wall. “Are you seriously that stupid? Do you haveanyclue what this could do to my scholarship?”
“Before we start.” Drake places a small device on the center of the steel table. “I have to inform you that everything said in this room is being recorded and may be used in court if this case makes it that far.”
“Good!” Geoffrey snarls. “And I assure you, thiswillmake it to court.” He jabs a threatening finger in my direction. “We’re gonna sue you till you’re living on the streets. Then we’ll sue the department till they name an entire fucking building after my family. Then we’ll sue the city for pain and suffering, since we’re already grieving a girl’s death and you fuckwits couldn’t find anything better to do than to drag a minor into your station and trick her into confessing to things she never did.”
“You have a right to hit pause on all this and bring a lawyer in,” Drake adds calmly. Almost robotically. “In fact, it might be best for us all if you did exactly that.”
“Innocent people do not need lawyers. They tell the truth, and then they get their faces on the news when the mayor himself apologizes.” Geoffrey’s fiery eyes span the room and burn me where I stand. “You think I didn’t look you up, Detective Malone? Does living up the hill in that fancy house make you think you’re better than us?”
