Page 38 of Tell Me Your Lies

“Are you aware of what David Brunel charges by the hour?” The older man leaning against the wall laughs at me. “We can call a lawyer for you, if you can’t afford one, but you won’t be getting out of this room before tomorrow. Why don’t you save us all the trouble and answer a few questions so we can all go home to bed?”

I lift my chin and stare at him. “I would like a drink of water please. I believe you are required to at least keep me hydrated while I’m here?”

“We can do that.” Watkins taps his pen on the table and glances at the mirror. “We can even organize a bathroom break as well, if you talk to us.”

I shake my head. “I’ll wait for Mr. Brunel.”

The door opens and the female detective comes inside with a sour expression. She dumps a bottle of water on the table before me. I flick her a glance and then stare at my hands on the table.

“We need another DNA sample.” She moves toward me. “Open your mouth. Don’t bother complaining, we already have a warrant to do this to you.”

I comply. Everyone leaves the room and the silence is deafening. A few moments later Watkins walks back. I look up at him. “I want my lawyer.”

“I figured you’d like a small piece of information, so maybe you’ll change your mind about answering questions. A body part was pulled out of the Everglades. The gators have chewed on it some but it’s been identified as Jenny Stafford—the woman who went missing from the Boswells’ home. Two women, both dead. Then we discover you were at the scene of another homicide—Susan Bright. We know you spoke to her before she died.” He leans on the table and eyeballs me. “Seems to me the moment you hit town people start dying. Is this why you took the job—to infiltrate the Boswells’ home and get closer to your victims?”

This news strikes me like an ax but I say nothing.

“Get up.” Watkins takes my arm. “This room is too nice for you.” He takes me out into the hallway and escorts me through the station.

Everyone watches me. Officers stop their conversations as I’m led away. People whisper under their breath. As we walk past the main desk, people in the foyer have their phones held up. I straighten and hold my head high. I didn’t murder Jenny or Susan—I know that for sure. I stare at the noticeboard. It’s covered with flyers and discount food coupons pinned over missing person posters. I look at everything on the walls to avoid eye contact with anyone. I stand staring at my hands as he uses a keypad to open a door and then pushes me along a narrow hallway and down a flight of stairs. Ahead of me is a line of cells. I’m trembling so hard, my legs turn to Jell-O and I stumble. Watkins’ grip tightens on my arm. He opens a solid door. All around me voices echo, some pleading, some crying out as if in pain. It’s like being in a psychiatric hospital.

“You’ll be held here until the results of the second DNA test are returned.” He pushes me inside a room with concrete walls.

The sound of the door closing behind me is like a death knell. My stomach drops as I look at the cold metal bench, a stainless-steel toilet with no privacy and the harsh fluorescent light. The stink of sweat lingers alongside the smell of bleach. I sit down on the cold metal and shiver. A door slams and a drunk guy yells something unintelligible. Voices shriek all around me but closer, someone is crying—and I realize it’s me.

FORTY-NINE

Hours drag by and I finally fall asleep under the bright lights that never go out. They must be designed to drive people insane. Voices wake me and I lift my head. My neck tugs painfully as I try to sit up. It’s as if I’m frozen to the cold bench. I blink, seeing David Brunel staring down at me.

“You left her in this freezing room without a blanket?” Brunel removes his jacket and wraps it around me. “What happened to duty of care? I want hot coffee and sandwiches for my client or I’m walking out with her right now.”

“Okay.” Watkins rubs the back of his neck. “You got it. It’s protocol, I had good reason to put her down here and they get nothing in the holding cells. The DNA is a match—and she has a scratch on her arm—anyone would have done the same.”

“Does innocent until proven guilty come to mind? You had reasonable doubt, didn’t you?” Brunel glares at him. “She shouldn’t be in a darn holding cell. You told me she was in an interview room.” He helps me to my feet. “Come on, they’re just waiting for a few more tests to come back and then they’ll do the paperwork and I can get you out of here.”

I do the walk of shame again, trying desperately to avoid everyone’s gaze. Right now, I’m just putting one foot in front of the other. The DNA sample came back as a match to me. I’m dizzy. I can’t believe I’ve killed someone. I see the blood on my hands again and smell the metallic odor as if it’s stuck inside my nostrils. The room moves in and out of focus and my knees tremble. I’m so weak, I can’t take another step.

“Alani.” Brunel gives me a little shake. “Lift your chin up and take some deep breaths. Everything is going to be all right. You need to trust me. Don’t faint on me now or the media will have a field day.” His arm tightens around my waist. “Just a few more steps, we’re almost there.”

A door opens and we walk inside. I stagger to a chair. Coffee in a paper cup arrives in front of me alongside sandwiches in plastic containers. I stare at them and then look at Brunel as he takes his jacket and exchanges it for a blanket, which he wraps around me. “What’s happening?”

“It’s a fiasco.” Brunel sits down beside me and his eyes scan my face as if looking at me for the first time. “The DNA sample came back as a match to one of the samples taken from the people in the house. The first assumption is the samples were labeled incorrectly and yours was muddled up with someone else’s. This is why another sample was taken. We’ve been waiting for the results, which were rushed through. The sample they took here at the police station confirms that you are not a match with the DNA found under Allison’s nails.” He stares at me. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Alani? The sample they took here is not a match to you.”

Shivering, I move my eyes to his and nod. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I never believed you had, and I want to get you out of here but right now, we’re waiting for other comparisons to be completed as they are still saying they’ve discovered an abnormality. This is why they’re keeping everyone in custody. I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” He looks at me intently. “Linc tells me you were adopted at birth. Do you know the circumstances of your birth? Where you were born, for instance?”

As this is my lawyer, I can tell him the truth as I know it. I give him the complete story but I leave out the part where Lucas found me in a pool of blood—I don’t want him dragged into my trouble. I mention the secret that Susan planned to tell me and arriving at her home to find the cops all over and her dead. The missing files from my computer and the flash drive I copied but still hadn’t had the chance to read completely. “Then there’s my brother, Damon.” A cold shiver slithers down my spine. “Barnes told me he is just like him.”

“A serial killer?” Brunel runs a hand down his face. “Okay, well, he is a possible suspect but how is he involved with the Boswells?”

Weariness drags at me as I shake my head. “I’m not sure but he commented on the ‘Black Valentine’ murder. He had a motive to kill Rachel for his father. Barnes hated her—she was the reason he went to prison. They only had circumstantial evidence on him for the other crimes and he walked on those.”

“And Rachel and Isabelle are connected by the hurricane.” Brunel makes fast notes. “You mentioned Damon commented on the ‘Black Valentine’ murder. Are you telling me you’ve been in contact with him?”

I explain how Damon found me at the mall. “The thing is, what reason would he have to murder any of the other victims?”

“What we need to discover is how Rachel, Jenny, Allison and Susan are linked.” He twirls his pen in his fingers, staring into space. “They all involve Isabelle, don’t they? Rachel met her in the hospital, and the rest of you are involved somehow with her memoirs. You mentioned Allison gave you a flash drive and a notebook belonging to Jenny. Now Jenny’s been found dead as well. Isabelle must be the central figure but I’ll inform the detectives about Damon. They might be able to track his whereabouts at the time of the crimes.”