“What do you need me here for?” Hernan asked. His eyes were evasive, always looking at the windows, if not the door, just to avoid eye contact with anyone. His mind at that time was, if he looked at any of them, his secrets might’ve been exposed, because police officers were like K9 bomb-sniffing dogs; they could see through the deception. He thought of them as psychics, that once he stared into them, his soul would get sucked out of his body, that he would’ve found himself confessing all his crimes.
He became more anxious when Natalie walked in, scanning him, but under the surface of her stare, she was skinning him alive. Or was he just paranoid?
“Mr. Hernandez,” Natalie said.
Hernan jerked like he was electrocuted.
“Y-yes, detective?”
“We’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.
