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“I’m Detective Niko James. Can you tell me your name?”
He fiddles with the cap to his bottle with trembling fingers. “Louie… Louis DeLucia.”
“You know that you’re not under arrest. We’re here just to ask you a few questions.”
He nods, and I continue to give him his Miranda Rights. “No, no lawyers, I don’t need anybody. Why’d you say that if I’m not under arrest?”
I flatten my hands on the file in front of me. “You and I, we had an interesting conversation in the bar. A very… self-incriminating one. I’m merely making you aware of your constitutional rights before we continue. Shall I say, covering both our asses.”
“Why would you do that?”
I make sure to keep my eyes steady on his even though the mere sight of this man sends my blood boiling. “Liquor can make people say funny things. Do funny things. I’m on your side, Louie. You seemed like you wanted to talk at the bar, so I’m here to listen.”
“I didn’t know you were a cop,” he argues. “You set me up. That’s entrapment or something, and it’s illegal.”
“If it were a trap, I wouldn’t have been drinking. I was nearly as drunk as you were. Anything I say in regards to our conversation will be thrown out as inadmissible. Any judge would call me an unreliable witness. It was a lucky coincidence I was there, don’t you think?”
“How is this lucky?” he asks back, becoming more agitated. I lean back in the metal chair, trying to appear relaxed through the waves of rage assaulting me inside.
“I’d say you want to be here. You were pretty eager to talk to a stranger about your guilt. Isn’t this what you wanted? To be absolved?”
Louis drops his head into his hands and tugs at his dirty hair. “I don’t want to go to jail.”
“Tell me what happened,” I coax, a slight edge appearing in my voice. I try so hard to conceal it, but I’m so close to the truth, I can nearly taste it. “I can’t promise you anything, but you’ll make it a lot easier on yourself if you just tell me the truth. They give all sorts of lighter sentences for people who are honest.”
He runs his hands through his hair again before flattening them on the table between us. He looks up, down, away—anywhere but at me for several long moments, and I think he’s going to stay quiet. Captain was right. Even when people know they should do the right thing, even when they deserve the damn consequences, they’ll stay locked up tight to avoid a jail sentence.
“I can leave you alone to think about it.” I rise from my chair and walk calmly to the door. I pull it open to see Tavers on the other side, but the thought of leaving without a confession unleashes something inside me. When I look back, Louis looks relieved at my retreat, and that’s enough for me to completely fucking snap. I cross the room in two strides, grab the back of the metal chair I was sitting in, and flip it into the air with one hand. I catch it by two legs, and with everything inside me, every ounce of pent-up emotion, I send it cutting through the air and slamming into the ground with a resounding crack.
“TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!”
Louis throws back his body, sliding his chair away from the table. And me. “I didn’t mean to do it. It wasn’t my plan. I didn’t have a goddamned plan,” he rattles off in quick succession, burying his fingers into his hair and shaking his head. Fear sits stark on his pale face.
Tavers catches my eye. I shake my head, communicating I don’t need him, and he shuts the door while wearing a dubious expression. I right my chair, and when I take a seat, I fold my hands on top of the table.
“What went wrong?” I ask quietly.
Everything Louis can see gives the appearance of calm, but beneath the table, my legs are so tight I’m about to give myself a fucking Charlie horse. I fight to relax while he starts speaking again.
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it,” he repeats.
“Who was she?”
“I didn’t get her name,” he mutters.
“How old was she?” I press.
“I don’t know.”
“Twelve? Fifteen?”
His head snaps up. “I killed someone, but I’m not a fucking pedophile! I have grandkids that age!”
If she wasn’t young, that means he didn’t have Aislin. Unless he didn’t kidnap her and somehow... acquired her... another way when she was older. The sickness from my bender returns with a vengeance.
“If you’d give me the information, I wouldn’t have to guess. Help me out here, Louie. She had a family. I want to give her family some closure. Don’t you?”
“Y-y-yes.” His voice shakes. “She was older. Your age, maybe. We met at a bar in Bakersville. She wanted to come home to fool around, and an old man like me wasn’t about to say no to young pussy. I just… we got so into it. She wanted to try some of that erotic asphyxiation crap. I was choking her, had my hand wrapped nearly the entirety of her airway, squeezing while she got off and I got off, and when it was over, I must have held on too long because she’d stopped moving. Her eyes were glassy, and she was staring at the ceiling... She was dead.”
