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“Thank you.”
“I want you to come home and feel safe. I want you to know that my house will now be our house. I have added more cameras around the outside of the property too, and I’m debating hiring an outside security team to be stationed outside too.”
“Ethan, that’s too much. This guy won’t come back to the scene of his crime. He’s not stupid enough to go that route. He’s stupid, but he obviously had a plan when he took me. That plan will not succeed twice,” I say, giving Ethan’s hand a squeeze.
He nods but doesn’t say much else. I know there’s nothing I can say to make him feel better. It will take time, and time we have.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say, letting go of Ethan’s hand as I exit the car. I smile at him as he falls in line beside me, making me feel far more supported than I have in a long time.
I check in at the front desk, where they take mine and Ethan’s IDs, scanning them in and then allowing us to enter.
We’re taken back to a small room that has cameras and a two-way mirror. It’s obviously an interrogation room, which feels weird to me since I’m not the one who should be in trouble. I should be giving this statement in a place that doesn’t feel so cold and sterile. But this is the way it goes. I’m not any more important than anyone else.
Detective Simmons enters the room, smiling at both of us, greeting us with handshakes and the offer of something to drink.
Returning a few minutes later, he hands both Ethan and I bottles of water, and he sits down across from us. “Okay, Zoey, I know this is going to be a long process. Just putting that out there. Today is just day one into our investigation. Once we have all your information, we can move forward. That doesn’t mean we won’t need to meet with you multiple times.”
“I understand,” I reply, my voice quiet in the vast emptiness of the cinderblock-walled room. “Where would you like me to start?”
“Right at the beginning,” Detective Simmons says, setting a small recorder between us. “I record everything you say. If there is something you don’t want recorded, you are more than welcome to stop the interview and get a lawyer.”
“Why would she need a lawyer?” Ethan interjects. “She didn’t do anything wrong.” His hands tighten into fists at his side as his jaw tightens along with it.
“She doesn’t need a lawyer. It’s just something we have to put out there.”
“It’s okay, Ethan,” I say, resting a hand on his thigh to calm him. “I was meeting Ethan at his house that night. I walked there like I always do. Nothing seemed unusual,” I start, letting my memory float back to that night. “I made it about a quarter of the way up the driveway and a man was walking toward me.”
“He was coming down from Ethan’s house?” the detective interjects.
“Yes, I thought it was Ethan. He usually meets me at the end of the driveway, but I knew he was running late.”
“I got caught up at work. I got that phone call. I turned the number over to you when—” Ethan is cut off by the detective holding up a hand.
“Mr. Morrison, I’m going to have to ask that you refrain from sharing anything at this time. We’ve found that it can cloud a witness’s perspective on things.”
Ethan gives off a curt nod, his lips set in a firm line. I know he’s just trying to help, but the detective is right. I don’t need anything getting in the way of me remembering every detail. It’s the reason why I asked Max and my parents to stay home.
“He was coming toward me, and I called out Ethan’s name, but when I reached him, it wasn’t Ethan. The man was wearing a black mask, like a ski mask. Something we’d wear when it’s really cold out. It covered his face, leaving just his eyes exposed.”
“Okay, and did you notice anything about the portion of his face that was exposed?” the detective prompts.
“No, nothing. I was too scared. I turned around, thinking I was going to run, but then I was met with a car’s headlights. That’s when I was struck in the head with something. It knocked me to the ground.”
“You’re certain there were two of them? Two males?” Detective Simmons asks.
“No, I’m not certain there were two males. I didn’t get a good look at the second person. It could have been a woman for all I know.”
“Interesting,” the detective says, mussing over what I’ve just told him as he takes a few notes. “Not being able to see your attacker does leave things rather open.”
“I know, and I keep wishing I could remember something more. The man, the one I saw at the end of the driveway, didn’t say anything to me. Neither did the person who pulled up in the car, but when I came to in the car, the guy driving called me princess and referenced an interview I had done a few days prior. Local heiress.”
“And who was the interviewer?” the detective asks, noting the woman’s name immediately. “We’ll need to get in touch with her.”
“She didn’t have anything to do with this,” I instantly say, knowing it couldn’t possibly be her. She was so into the interview and was so friendly and kind to me.
“How can you know that? Everyone you have interacted with in the last several months could be a suspect,” Detective Simmons says, his voice controlled, not at all worried that he could be wrong.
But what if it’s me who is wrong? I never thought about it the way he just said. I always assumed it was someone who has no connection to me. Like it’s someone who only knows me because of my family name or because of my connection to Ethan. I never looked at the situation thinking it could be someone I’ve spent time with.
