Interlude The Interrogation of Kayla
Chapter twenty-four
Kayla
“Ms. Danver, thank you for coming in today to speak with us,” Detective Hollister says. I hold my cuffed hands up in front of me.
“I didn’t have much of a choice, detective. I was violently arrested in my home, with no probable cause, by the way. I’m completely innocent of these charges. You’ll be lucky if I don’t own this department after I’m done suing you,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Fake it ‘til you make it.
"Can you at least take the cuffs off?" I ask, holding my aching wrists out to him. He sighs and unlocks them.
"Thanks."
Detective Hollister just stares at me. “Ms. Danver, we have a phone call from a guest of the hotel that says they overheard you confessing to burying a body on the grounds. We’ve uncovered a body right where they said it'd be. We also found some highly concerning things in your room at the hotel. Can you explain why your walls were covered in pictures of one of the deceased? Or why you had a bloody paperweight on your bookshelf?”
I chew my lip for a second, trying to buy time.
Yes, I do know about that body, but no, I don’t want to talk about it.
Technically, I didn’t kill that lady, Andrei did.
When I was arrested, I thought it would be for killing Andrei.
I’m surprised they didn’t find his body.
Fucking bastard. He brutalized Jake in the worst ways, and my only regret is that I can't kill him again.
“Look, I didn’t kill that lady, okay? I’m innocent, like I said. You’ve got nothing to hold me on, can I go please?” I blink owlishly, trying to portray innocence.
“You're not free to leave at this point. But if you have something you’d like to get off your chest, I’m here to listen,” he says.
“Ugh! I didn't do anything wrong! There could be tons of bodies on that property, how would I know? I'm just the manager.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the night Jacob Covington died.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything,” I hedge.
“Well, two bodies were recovered on the same property, one you clearly had some kind of sick infatuation with, an anonymous tip came in calling you out by name, we found evidence in your bedroom linking you to these crimes, and now you’ve told me there may be more bodies on the property. That’s the relevance, Ms. Danver.”
I slam my hands on the table. “I didn’t kill Jake! I would never. I loved him. He was killed by a guy named Andrei. He checked into the hotel the same night Jake did, and when I woke up in the morning he was gone, and Jake was… well, you know.” I wipe a tear out of my eye.
“Here’s the issue. There’s no record of any Andrei checking into the hotel that night. Do you have a last name for him?”
“No, I don’t know his last name.”
“That’s interesting. Are you in the habit of checking guests in without verifying their identity? Did he have a payment method on file?”
Fuck a duck. “No, okay. He didn’t. He checked in off the books.
Andrei was a friend of Elder Covington; I was just doing him a favor.
He’d come by the hotel every now and then to do business, but I don’t have a last name.
All I know is that he’s a tall, scary Russian dude with tattoos all over his body.
There should be surveillance footage. The cops that came when I called 911 took the footage. Y’all should have it.”
“There’s no record of the police having any surveillance footage. I’ve looked over all the reports, and it says you told them cameras were turned off during the time of the murder. Something about the owner being a cheap bastard. Ring a bell?”
I shake my head.
“So I have no surveillance footage, tons of evidence linking the crime to you, and all I have from you is your word, which I’m not inclined to trust. Look, I’ll be frank with you. We have enough evidence to hold you for now.”
“What?! Are you crazy? I have a job to do, I can’t go to jail. I haven’t done anything wrong. This is ridiculous.” I’m totally fucked. How can the police have no record of the surveillance footage that they took into evidence? Something isn’t right here.
“I’m being framed!” I declare. It’s the only explanation. Mr. Covington is framing me. Well, jokes on him. I’m not taking the fall for the shit he started.
“What was the lady’s name?” the detective asks.
“Who, Marie?” I realize my error too late, caught off guard. “Um, that’s not—I swear I didn’t do anything!” I turn on the waterworks, hoping he’ll take pity on me.
He stands, hands on his belt. “Please stand up, Ms. Danver. Face the wall and put your hands behind your head, interlocking your fingers. You’re being detained on suspicion of the murder of Marie Livingston and Jake Covington. You have the right to remain silent—”
I’m crying for real now. “You can’t do this to me! I’m too pretty to go to jail. What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” He’s not listening to my babbling, and I start to panic. I’m not going down for a murder I didn’t even commit.
“I want a lawyer. You’ve violated my constitutional rights. I swear I’m being framed; the police that arrived on scene – that I called, by the way – took the surveillance footage evidence!”
“That’s fine, we’ll contact your lawyer for you. I’d advise you stop talking now. Place your hands behind your head.”
As he cuffs me all I can think about is Jake.
I’m sorry, Jake, that I couldn’t protect you.
I avenged you though, and I’ll never regret that.
I’m smiling as Detective Hollister leads me out of the interrogation room.
He may have won the battle, but he’s not going to win this war.
No one tries to frame me and gets away with it.
Kayla Danver doesn’t roll over that easily.
Do your worst, Mr. Covington. I’m coming for you next.