26
ZAC
Rubbing my tingling and newly freed wrists, I sat in a chair, and the sheriff and other officer—who was finally introduced to me as a detective—sat across from me.
I had to suffer through being Mirandized and asked if I wanted legal representation—which I declined—before I was finally asked, “When was the last time you saw Miss Ruiz?”
I squinted in irritation, thinking they should already know this, but then I went ahead and just said it. “Last night.”
Two sets of eyebrows lifted in surprise. “So you admit it?”
I shook my head and frowned. “Admit that I saw her? Yes. Why would I not admit that?”
“When was this? And where?” the detective asked, starting to write s**t down on a notepad.
“It was at the river,” I told them. “That’s, like, her favorite place to go. We sit on an o
