Page 85 of Possessive Ink

“The issue is that he is a criminal and a drug dealer,” Avery spits, her face contorting into a venomous mask.

“A criminal and a drug dealer,” Deputy Cunningham says slowly. “And by what assertions have you come by these allegations?”

“Look at him!” she screams.

“Atticus, I have a feeling I already know the answer to this, but what is it that you do for a living?”

“I’m a tattoo artist,” I say, grinning widely.

“He’s on drugs. Test him,” Avery snarls.

“Happy to take any sobriety or drug test the sheriff’s department needs,” I say, agreeing happily.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Hoffman. Miss Becker, are you aware that wasting police time is a criminal offense?” Deputy Cunningham asks.

“Wasting police time?” Avery yells. “Arrest him, arrest him. Arrest them both. They’re criminals. Between them, they’re probably wanted in every state.”

“Miss Becker, have you consumed any alcohol today?” he asks.

“What? No.”

“Have you taken any drugs?”

“No,” she says, only her answer is slower.

“Miss Becker, perhaps you’d like to accompany me to the station, and I can take down some more details about your complaint,” Deputy Cunningham suggests, his tone softening.

“But what about them? They’ll get away,” she hisses, pointing at us.

“After you’ve given us some more details, if there has been a crime committed, I assure you we will find them and arrest them.”

“A crime? You should see her room. It’s a shrine to the devil and drugs. It’s chaos. That’s a crime right there,” Avery says, throwing her arm out in the direction of Lemon’s room.

“Okay, Miss Becker, why don’t you head on downstairs, and I’ll take some personal details from Mr. Hoffman and Miss Manning, and then we’ll go to the station, and you can make a formal complaint.”

“Fine,” Avery huffs, glaring at both Lemon and me before she flounces out of the apartment and out of sight.

No one speaks until she’s left, then Deputy Cunningham turns back to us with a sigh. “Miss Manning, have you been having issues with your roommate for long?”

“To be honest, I try to avoid her as much as possible,” Lemon admits sadly.

“How long have you been living together?”

“Almost two years.”

“From what Lemon has told me, her behavior has been escalating, but it was seeing me here the other day that tipped her over the edge. I don’t know her well enough to know if she’s on something or having a psychotic break, but I think it’s clear that she’s not behaving rationally,” I tell the deputy.

“I’ll have a word with her, and if necessary, we have an on-call doctor we can contact for cases like this. How long do you think it’s going to take to get the rest of your belongings packed up?” Deputy Cunningham asks.

“We can have everything cleared out in a couple of hours. There are only clothes and a few other bits that aren’t already boxed up,” I tell him.

“Okay, I’ll try to keep her away for the next two hours, but obviously, I can’t detain her without reason, and unfortunately, not liking your roommate’s boyfrie⁠—”

“Fiancé,” I correct him.

“Not liking your roommate’s fiancé…” the deputy amends. “Isn’t a reason to arrest someone either.”

“We only have a little over two months left on our lease anyway, and once I’ve moved out, I doubt I’ll ever see her again. She only leaves the apartment to go to work, then comes straight home,” Lemon tells the deputy, her face a mask of sadness.