Chapter Three #2
Jonesy sucks in a deep breath, his annoyance transitioning into .
. . concern? It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.
We’ve been attempting to mask our true emotions from each other for so long.
If I had to guess, he’s almost a little scared of the colonel.
Which is fine. Some people have shitty bosses.
But he’s not my boss. Hell, he’s only here as a courtesy, I’m sure.
The colonel’s smirk turns sour, which brings me a little joy, I won’t lie.
“I suppose we will. Shall we get on with it?” He turns his attention back to the chief.
She shoots me a look that says, play nice. So I turn on my neutral therapist-face. Time for Colonel Rogers to understand who rules the roost around here.
◆◆◆
After some negotiating between Jonesy, the colonel, and the sergeant major, it was decided we would head down to view the initial interview alone.
The higher-ups could negotiate the remaining imposition that the army will have on us in the meantime.
It’s not like they don’t have better things to do than watch a run-of-the-mill police interview.
As we make our way into the small room, I’m suddenly glad it’s just the two of us.
The room is small enough without Jonesy’s towering height taking up all the space.
And in that uniform. Christ, he looks about ten feet tall.
The army-issued khaki clings to him like it’s trying to rub itself against his muscles.
If it wasn’t Jonesy, I’d be fanning myself at the prospect of being in an enclosed space with him.
But it is him, and I remind myself that he is an infuriating bastard at the best of times.
And at my job . . . yeah, that’s not the best of times.
I’m going to have to babysit this jackass whilst simultaneously sorting my own head out, which has been lax for a while now.
“I feel like I’m on some shitty cop show,” Jonesy mutters.
“They get most of it wrong, except for one thing,” I reply, looking out at the suspect, Connor Maddox, through the one-way mirror.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“The coffee is always awful.”
He smiles down at me, despite my heels giving me the extra height.
Detective Williams and Officer Sanchez take their seats opposite Maddox.
He’s facing us so we can watch his facial expressions.
So far, he’s been well-behaved. He looks as if he is in shock.
Face pale, gnawing the skin around his thumb.
He hasn’t shouted out, hasn’t touched the water that was provided for him; he hasn’t asked for anything.
His lawyer has been in and out and trails in after Williams and Sanchez.
“He looks scared.”
I wish Jonesy would shut up. I don’t need him narrating this interview, but he’s always been a talker.
It’s been this way since college. He couldn’t just read about cases; he had to go through them one by one, analyzing, getting opinions, collaborating with others.
I don’t mind other opinions. I just like to read about them rather than someone using their tone of voice or body language to convince me to agree.
Detective Williams begins the interview, confirming his and Officer Sanchez’s names and checking that Maddox was read his rights when he was arrested. He asks Maddox if he needs anything: the bathroom, food, or a soda.
He shakes his head, eyes wide as if a judge and jury were sitting in the room with him. He glances sporadically at the one-way mirror, and even though I know he can’t see us, I know he knows we’re watching.
“Then let's begin.”
◆◆◆
Jonesy and I are still in the interview viewing room three shitty coffees and two hours later. It was an intense watch; they usually are when a murder is involved. However, Jonesy’s stark expression throughout the interview had me feeling exposed.
I’d hardened myself over the years to extreme acts of violence.
It wasn’t until last year, working on The Poser case, that I felt the effects of a case.
This is normal for me. Hearing someone cry that they hadn’t committed a crime, even in the face of obvious evidence, is normal.
People will try to convince you of anything when they’re within these four walls.
The cinder blocks start to feel like they’re closing in on you as the reality of your situation hits.
This is happening. You’ve been caught. You’ll likely never be free again.
And he shouldn’t. If the evidence is correct, Connor Maddox is an incredibly violent individual who, despite showing no previous signs of aggression, has committed an atrocious act of violence against a young woman.
She’s dead, and it’s our responsibility to put the evidence together and determine for her loved ones whether he is the one responsible.
As Detective Williams wraps up, informing the suspect and his lawyer that they will be resuming the interview tomorrow morning, he slips out of the room with Sanchez, and the door to our viewing room opens.
I hand him a cup of coffee and watch as Jonesy’s eyes follow the movement of my hand, the muscle in his jaw ticking as if he’s clenching his teeth.
“Thanks, you’re an angel.” Detective Williams winks.