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"What the fuck are we going to do?" I ask.
He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it as stress tightens his shoulders. "We're not going to do anything," he responds. "They just have suspicions and questions. They have no proof of anything right now. You and I both know she didn't commit those murders. We know that, but we also know what shediddo."
"How well do you think she'll hold up under pressure from the local PD?" I ask, and Travis lets out a growl of frustration as he starts to pace around his room again.
"We need to speak to her before they do, to warn her what's coming."
"She's already in class," I tell him. "I checked."
"Okay, so call her and get her back here straight away, because we need to get to her before they do."
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
BRIAR
Being hauled into the police station after being dragged from campus by the two officers that barged into my class isn't exactly the most fun I've had with my clothes on.
They put me in this interrogation room where I've been sitting for at least the last two hours, if the clock on the wall is correct. I've been left to sit and stew in the silence of the room.
I still have no idea why I'm here or what it is they want from me, beyond them telling me that they had questions for me, but to say that I'm sweating bullets is an understatement.
I've been trying to stay as calm as I can, especially since nobody has asked me any specific questions yet, but I know I need to try and remain as cool and collected as I possibly can. However, trying to do that and not just assuming the worst goes against my very nature.
All I can think about are all of the possible worst-case scenarios.
Time drags by slowly but surely, the waiting a form of torture all on its own.
I get that that's one of their plays but also, I'm not under arrest, so I have no idea why I'm being treated with such contempt.
Another ten minutes pass, according to the clock on the wall, before the door opens and two police officers filter into the room. The shorter, burly and balding man sits in the chair directly opposite me, the younger one of the two with the nice smile sits beside him.
"Miss Moore, thank you for your patience," the younger officer starts. "It's a busy day here at the precinct, as I'm sure you can imagine with everything that's been going on lately."
I force a smile to my lips, trying to remain as calm as possible.
"Not a problem, officers," I respond as politely as I can manage. I know that prodding them or being an asshole, which is also my default setting, isn't going to get me anywhere right now. "Can I ask what this is all about?"
"Well, Miss Moore," the older, balding officer says. "It has been brought to our attention that your whereabouts line up almost perfectly with the times and locations of the murders that have been plaguing our town."
"Excuse me?" I stutter, my palms starting to sweat. I wipe them on my pants under the table, hoping they don’t notice.
"With the murders that took place before the summer in the City, as well as the ones that have happened at the campus of Saints U since you started studying out there…" He trails off and my heart races in my chest as I blink at the officers.
"So, a question for you, Miss Moore," the younger of the officers picks up where the other left off. "Does it not seem suspicious to you that you are one of the very few people who was in the right place at the right time, as it were?
"I mean, it could," I respond, snark filtering into my voice. "Except I haven't done anything wrong. Serena was my friend. I don't know the rest of the victims, or even how many of them there are. I'm not capable of murder."
I swallow around the lump in my throat, tasting the lie on my lips. I'm aware I'm absolutely capable of murder, just not the murders that I'm being accused of currently. "Do you have any proof tying me to the murders beyond the fact that I was in the City and then Serenity Falls during the timeframe that they happened?"
"Well, actually," the older officer says, opening the file and sliding it across the table. "We do."
I look down at the sheet of paper in the file, but it might as well be written in Japanese for as much sense as it makes to me. "What, exactly, am I looking at here?"
"That, Miss Moore, is the results of the DNA evidence we found on the latest body."
"Right? And what does that have to do with me?" I ask, bewildered.
"The DNA we found was that of your professor, who nobody seems to have seen for at least a month, but if you look on the next page, you will see the results of the tests that we rushed after bringing you in here."
