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Vienna clicks Play, and instead of leaning back, all of us lean forward a little more.
I tilt my head to the side in confusion until I realize what it is we’re seeing.
“Oh, my God,” Posie slaps her hand to her mouth, and my eyes widen.
"Is that you?” I ask.
Posie nods.
Posie sits in a small room, an interrogation room from the looks of it. It’s gray cement, with a small table and two chairs. She’s against the wall, her elbows on the table, a complete wreck. With her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and wearing sweats, she glances around the room nervously.
Suddenly, the door opens, and a familiar-looking male detective walks in. I don’t know his name, but he’s been working on the police force for a while. He’s tall, a bit wide, but not overly overweight. He adjusts his belt, his hand going to the gun holster on the side of his pants.
I narrow my eyes.
He sits down, the large pad of paper slapping against the table. It makes Posie jolt, both on screen and in person.
I narrow my eyes, angry for her. That she had to go through this.
The detective pulls out a pen from his breast pocket, giving it a loud click before he leans back in his chair.
“Posie Gray, my name is Detective Weathers.”
Posie nods, glancing at the piece of paper in front of him.
“I’m here to ask you a few questions. I’m hoping you can help me answer them. Will that be okay?”
“Am I under arrest?” Posie whispers, her voice shaky.
The detective shifts. “You aren’t under arrest, Miss Gray, but there are a lot of accusations that are being thrown around that need to be discussed.”
Posie looks up at him. “Like what?”
Posie leans back on the couch, covering her face. “This was such a horrible day,” she whimpers.
“Do you know whoZane Baswald is?” he asks, getting right to it.
My stomach bottoms out, and I cringe, realizing this must be right after I left.
Posie stalls. Too long. “Yeah, I do… did…do,” she stutters.
The detective sits a little straighter. “Do you know what happened to him?”
Posie shakes her head. Too quickly.
There’s a long pause, and it feels awkward. Stifled.
He shifts gears. “So, you’re friends with Lakyn Ashford?”
My blood turns cold.
“Yeah,” Posie whispers.
The entire couch stiffens, all of us shifting forward until we’re on the edge of our seats.
“Do you have any idea where she is right now?” he asks, leaning down to write on his pad of paper.
Posie shifts up, trying to glance at it too.
