David Jarrett had been shown into the interview room. He was wearing jeans with frayed bottoms, grey trainers, plain black t-shirt and the ‘Manifest Skateboards’ hoodie. He was unshaven and had his hair tied in a tiny curled pig-tail.
Grace and Terry watched him through the two-way mirror from the adjacent observation room, studying his demeanour as he paced back and forth, sat down, leaned back with the chair on two legs and put his feet up on the desk.
‘That’s his ‘see if I give a s**t’ pose,’ Terry said to Grace.
‘Watch his eyes, he’s not as unconcerned as he wants us to think.’
‘Yeah, but he’ll know he’s being watched.’
They watch him another four minutes.
‘OK, he’s been stewing long enough, let’s get to it.’
‘Good cop, bad cop?’
‘Let’s see how it goes.’
As they enter the roo
