Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
UNRAVEL
Val, Ollie, and Leah are dropped off at their interview rooms first, which Officer Pettit makes sure we understand are not interrogation rooms. We have to journey a little further into the back of the station for my room, which is just a small conference room.
I settle into a rolling chair around the rectangular table, and Officer Pettit props open the door when she leaves, which puts me at ease.
I start to slowly unravel, though, when I am forced to sit with nothing but my thoughts for almost an hour without anyone coming by to check on me.
Just when I am about to backtrack through the maze to return to the lobby and say I’ve changed my mind, a baby-faced detective breezes into the conference room.
“Sorry for the wait, Miss Bailey. We are a bit short-staffed tonight.” He smiles and then goes straight for the coffee carafe. “I’m Detective Jonathan Harvey. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” I thought officers had to be in the force for a while before being promoted to detective, but Harvey doesn’t look a day over twenty-one.
“Probably for the best. Coffee’s not very good, anyway,” he says, while actively pouring himself a cup, and proves his own warning with the wince that accompanies his first sip. “So, tell me what happened, ma’am, from your perspective, so that we can get you on your way.”
I take a deep breath and try to settle my bouncing knee as I launch into my description of events but limit it to the portion of the night after the power kicked back on.
He nods throughout my story, shaking four packets of sugar and three pods of creamer into his Styrofoam cup and then takes the seat across from me before trying the coffee again.
He cringes harder this time, even with the added ingredients, and uses a napkin to wipe a few drops from his sparse mustache.
“Tell me about the last time you interacted with the deceased, Miss Bailey. Did she seem off at all to you?”
I try to ignore the dull pain that has begun pulsing through the cut in my thumb over the last few minutes and consider which details are relevant to the investigation.
“Ollie, Cameron, and I had a conversation with her about the generator,” I say, deciding that is probably more than sufficient.
“What was her mental state like at that point? Did she seem sad or depressed? Or even strangely upbeat?”
His questions indicate a suspicion of self-harm, which I hadn’t considered yet. My mind immediately went to it being an accident, and the suggestion weighs heavily on me. “She was unhappy about how the retreat was going.”
He abandons his coffee to smooth his tie and leans back in his chair. “And why was that?”
I shift uncomfortably despite his nonchalance, as the saying, “Everything that you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” flashes through my mind. Can Cameron get in trouble if they find that she took her own life after the two of them were fighting all day?
Detective Harvey must sense my discomfort, because he asks another question. “I overheard that the power went out at some point. Tell me about that.”
“I was in the kitchen with Cameron doing dishes when the power initially went out, and then Delaney walked in a minute or so later to discuss turning on the generator. Ollie and Valentina joined the conversation shortly after, and we decided as a group that it was best to wait for the storm to die down before anyone went outside.”
“What happened after that conversation?”
“Val and Ollie took off to the front of the house to go up the stairs that way, but Cameron took me up a back stairway so that we didn’t have to cover as much distance. We met them again in his room upstairs, the primary bedroom, and then we went down the hall to get my phone from my room.”
“Who is we?”
“Me and Cameron.”
He nods like this is all completely logical. “What happened to your forehead? That’s a pretty decent bump. Did you hit it on something while you were walking around in the dark?”
I stiffen at his observation, even though there isn’t an ounce of suspicion in his voice.
“Yes, actually. I hit it on the door at the top of the stairs.”
“When you were walking up the back stairway?”
“Yes, exactly.”
He nods. “Then the power came back on after you and Mr. James went into your room for your phone, which brings us to the sequence of events you started with, right?”
“Right,” I confirm.
He seems satisfied with my statement. “Is there anything else that you can share that might be helpful to the investigation?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Okay, thanks so much for coming in tonight, and sorry again to keep you waiting.” He stands to lead me out, and I follow him back to the lobby, hoping to find Cameron there waiting for me.
Instead, Jalen rises from one of the chairs at our arrival.
“Everything good?” he asks, posing the question to Detective Harvey.
“Yep, all set,” the detective says, then turns to me. “Here’s my card in case you think of anything else important.” I reach out to take it with my right hand without thinking, and reveal my bloody, bandaged thumb. “Ouch, what happened there?” he asks.
“I cut it on some broken glass while I was doing the dishes,” I say, but instantly regret it, because it probably doesn’t paint Cameron in the best light that multiple people were injured at his retreat on the same night.
He smiles warmly, calming my fears. “Happens to the best of us. Take care, Miss Bailey. Nice to see you again, Jalen.”
“Likewise,” Jalen says, but as soon as Detective Harvey is out of earshot, lowers his voice. “I really don’t like that guy.”
“Why not? He was pleasant enough.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of his schtick. He uses it to get people’s guards down so that he can get a free-will confession without having to read Miranda rights. I’m surprised they had him take your statement since there was no crime committed.”
“He said that they were short-staffed tonight.”
A group of officers clumped around a desk laugh boisterously across the lobby.
Jalen follows my line of sight and narrows his eyes at the group.
“Short-staffed, huh?” he says. “Either way, I apologize that you had to be alone for your statement. Cameron sent me to find you as soon as he heard that you agreed to give one, but none of the other officers seemed to know where you were being interviewed.”
“Is he almost done?” I ask, anxious to be back in his calming presence.
“No, he’s going to be here for a while, since he was the one who found her body. He asked me to get you set up in a hotel room nearby so that you can get some rest until he’s finished.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointed.
“He has a room at the same hotel,” Jalen adds, “I was able to book you two adjoining rooms.”
That is a relief, but a new worry takes its place when I can’t shake off the uneasy feeling that has been rising in me for the last few minutes. “Shouldn’t you stay here with him? I know he’s a lawyer too. But maybe, just to be safe?”
“He’s fine for tonight. Another lawyer from the firm will meet us in the morning to represent him, so that I can be available for you. We will discuss a strategy to move forward with.”
The word strategy sits uncomfortably in my chest because the plain old truth should more than suffice. I have seen enough true crime shows with Monika to know that these things are not always straightforward, though.
“Are you ready to go?” he prompts, pulling his car keys from his pocket.
I nod and follow him out the front doors of the station.