Chapter 23
1032 Words
Mike
I step outside and close the door behind me. There’s no way I’m letting her sniff around my place like a coonhound determined to put me away for something - anything.
“What can I help you with, Officer?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible.
Her brown eyes gesture to the open wounds on my knuckles. “What happened there?”
Folding my arms over my chest, I ignore her question. “There’s gotta be a reason why you’re at my doorstep, and I doubt it’s to show concern over a few bloody knuckles.”
The tongue in her mouth clicks on the roof of her mouth. “Very well. Where were you on the night of February sixteen?”
Two days after, I had the best night with the best woman on earth, and the day her father’s body must have been found.
I shrug my shoulders. “I was home,” I lie.
Officer Malone keeps eye contact with me – the deep brown irises burn with a type of fire determined to smoke me out. She’s like a rattlesnake, waiting to strike and drag me to jail where people like her believe I belong. I flex my hand into a fist, feeling the open skin burn; people like her may be right… “Are there any witnesses to attest to that?”
“Of course,” I lie again. I’m so glad I’m not Pinocchio right now; my nose would be poking her eye out.
Officer Malone’s eyes squint. “Sure, there are. I’m gonna need the names of those witnesses.” She clears her throat. “Mr. Gilbert, I understand that you and your ex-girlfriend, Elena, had a big fight on the day of her father’s disappearance.”
What does she know? I nod my head slightly, then correct her. “Girlfriend.”
“Excuse me?” Her brows rise on her forehead with doubt.
“You said, ex-girlfriend. She’s still my girlfriend.”
“Fine. Do you mind walking me through what happened that day and what happened after you left their house?” She takes out a pad of paper and a pen from her pockets.
Shuffling my feet, I answer her. “Detective Elijah told me a lot about you, Officer Malone. He respected you, and I’m sure you know more than what you're leading on.”
“So, you are refusing to answer my questions?”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, but-“
“Then I don’t have to answer any of your questions.” I shrug. “If you want to come back with a warrant or arrest me, then I’d be happy to answer your questions.” That may have been too bold; I have so many skeletons in my closet.
“Mr. Gilbert. You are already on such thin ice. I know your record was wiped clean, but I have no doubt that you were involved with Elijah’s disappearance, possibly even his death. I will figure this out, and you will end up behind bars.”
The picture I took of Elijah and Elena that was on the dash of his cop car is burning a hole through my back pocket. I’ve planned on giving it to Elena several times; I just haven’t been able to do it yet. “There is no proof. You’re sniffing around the wrong suspect.”
She stares at me, and a small, smug smile pulls at her lips. “If I wanted a warrant, I would have gotten it already.” She pulls a little plastic zip-loc baggy from a pocket. It can’t be. I was so careful at cleaning up the scene. My pulse is in overdrive; my hands are sweating. “It appears that Elijah’s car was hot-wired. I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?” She smiles like she’s got the devil in the bag. “Something tells me that you do. This little hair here tells me that it was you.”
“That could be anyone’s hair,” I fire back as calmly as a criminal can be at the stake.
“Hmm. I suppose you’re right, but I think we both know who it belongs to.” Officer Malone tucks the evidence, her pad of paper, and the pen back in her pockets. “You’ll be hearing from me very soon, Michael.”
I give her a cocky smile, which shows off the confidence that she won’t be able to touch me. “Can’t wait, Officer.”
She gives me a tight smile that tells me she will do everything in her power to trap me and skin me alive. On her heel, she turns and walks back to her car. Once she leaves my property, I take out the flip phone and dial a number I never thought I would ever dial.
****
“My, my, the tables have turned.” Uncle Randall stretches back in his chair with a snide curl of his lips.
“I won’t be able to work for you if I’m behind bars. Can you help me or not?” My patience is wearing thin in this stuffy office. The smell of musk and lemon twists my stomach. Maybe the twisting is from the fact that I willingly called out for help from the man who has turned my life upside down. Perhaps it’s also the fact that if he can’t help me, then I can kiss any future with Elena goodbye because I’ll rot in prison.
And what about my kid?
Ironically, this Randall character is my only hope when he’s taken pretty much everything I’ve ever hoped for away from me.
At least with his help, I might be able to stitch back together what has been ripped apart.
Randall barks out a laugh. “Of course, I will help you. I have people that work for me at the police station. I’ll see to it that the evidence doesn’t come back to you. You have my word.”
I scoff to myself. His word means nothing to me without proof that he’ll hold his end of the deal.
Time will tell.
- Writer
