Chapter 8
“This way, Mr. Williams,” Agent Parker said as he shoved Dutton from behind.
Dutton stumbled but managed to somehow stay upright even with his hands cuffed behind his back.
The anti-magic spell that was infused in the cuffs was making his wrists itch like crazy.
He knew it was because his adrenaline was up, and his magic was pooling near his hands but couldn’t quite reach them due to the spell.
He hated it, though he understood the reasons behind the precautions.
If he really were a raging arsonist, Dutton could’ve burned both agents and their vehicle to the ground before they even managed to call for backup.
He was a powerful fire witch, and unless the two of them matched his power, there wouldn’t have been much they could do.
The regional Magical Task Force building wasn’t in Keating Hollow.
It was about forty miles outside of town in the middle of nowhere.
Most of their buildings were. No one really wanted to live near an institution that housed the most powerful magical criminals in the country.
At least he assumed they housed magical criminals.
The place was locked down tighter than the Pentagon.
Agent Parker pushed a button, and glass doors slid open. The three of them walked in and then paused at a security station. Parker nudged Dutton again and said, “Step into the security scanner.”
Dutton hesitated. He’d been through one before. It wasn’t a metal detector; it was the type of scanner that completely neutralized any magical beings. Once he stepped in, his ability to control fire would be lost for a period of time. Usually up to seventy-two hours. “What if I don’t consent?”
“You don’t have a choice,” Avery said. “We have probable cause for this interrogation. If you don’t go in willingly, you’ll be forced.” The man waved a packed of papers at him. “Court order.”
“Show it to me,” Dutton demanded. He suspected everything the agents said was true, but he’d been jerked around by enough people in positions of authority when he’d been a teenager that he didn’t trust easily. Sometimes never… depending on who he was dealing with.
Avery calmly unfolded the papers and turned to the page that was signed by a judge.
Dutton ground his teeth and nodded once. If he refused, he knew there was a possibility he’d be charged with obstructing justice on top of the arson they were trying to pin on him.
Parker guided him up to the security scanner, and Dutton did as he was told. Once he was in place, they removed the handcuffs and the glass doors closed, trapping him inside.
With his hands curled into fists and his jaw aching from tension, Dutton stood perfectly still while the neutralizing magic washed over him.
The itch at his wrists vanished, but so did that hum of magic that he lived with twenty-four seven.
When the machine was done, Dutton felt hollow.
Almost like a vital organ had been removed and he was only a shell of himself.
The doors opened with a whoosh.
Parker and Avery were permitted to go through a personnel door that left whatever magic they had intact.
“This way,” Avery said, leading Dutton down a bright white hallway with Parker behind them.
Dutton said nothing, just put one foot in front of the other, void of all feeling except the regret he carried with him every day.
Avery opened a door to an interrogation room and waved Dutton in. The walls were steel blue, and instead of having plastic chairs and a table, there were two couches and a coffee table that was set up with refreshments.
“Are we having afternoon tea?” Dutton asked, eyeing the tray of sandwiches on the table.
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Parker said with a smile, his tone suddenly light and airy as if they were just three friends sitting down for lunch.
Dutton knew that tactic, too. The man would try to make him think he was on Dutton’s side to see what he could get him to say.
Avery poured a cup of coffee from the carafe that was next to the sandwiches and offered it to Dutton.
“No thanks.” Dutton sat in the corner of one of the couches, placed his foot on the opposite knee, and waited for the other two to get tired of their show.
They both took cups of coffee and sandwiches from the tray and then sat on the opposite couch. As they munched, they looked through a file, nodding and muttering to each other.
Finally, Parker looked up, his gray eyes piercing Dutton’s. “Why don’t you tell us what happened last Saturday.”
“Not until I get my lawyer here,” Dutton said, though he didn’t have a lawyer. He once again prayed that Briggs knew someone who could help.
Parker slammed the file closed and stood up, glaring at Dutton. “Why did you wait to inform us you wanted a lawyer present?”
“You hadn’t asked me any questions yet,” Dutton said, just as coldly. “Do I get my phone call now?”
Avery sighed. “Yes.” He reached behind him, grabbed an old black rotary phone, and placed it on the table. “Call whoever you need to.”
Then the two agents left the interrogation room, surprising him. He figured they’d stay to listen in on his phone call, though he suspected it would be recorded anyway.
Dutton picked up the receiver and fumbled around with the phone as he dialed.
As expected, the call went straight to voice mail.
No one he knew picked up unknown numbers.
And of course, there was no such thing as texting on an old-fashioned phone.
Frustrated, he left a message, briefly explaining what was happening and asking his brother for help finding a lawyer.
He finished by telling Briggs to send the attorney to the Magical Task Force building that was east of town on Hwy 20.
When he placed the receiver back in the cradle, Dutton stared at the phone as if it had betrayed him.
His only lifeline and he’d had to leave a message with no way of knowing how long it would take his brother to see it.
He slumped back into the couch, looked up at the ceiling, and prayed for patience.
A half hour later, Dutton was pacing the room.
The agents hadn’t come back, and he hadn’t seen anyone walk by the glass windows of the interrogation room.
He wondered if the isolation was part of their tactics to try to get him to talk.
He could see how one might go crazy being left alone for a long period of time and might be more willing to talk if they thought it meant they would be released.
He wasn’t one of them, though. Dutton knew better.
Dutton paced and paced until he was sure he was wearing a hole in the cement floor. Finally after about another hour, the door opened and Parker strode in.
“Your lawyer is here,” he said as he took a seat.
Dutton let out a relieved sigh. That meant his brother had gotten his message and had sent someone. He said a silent thanks and prayed they didn’t cost a fortune.
The agent eyed the food on the table. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
“I’m not hungry,” Dutton said. It was the truth. He’d eaten a roast beef sandwich earlier, and his stomach had been in knots since the moment the agents arrived at his auto shop.
“Suit yourself.” Parker placed the sandwiches in a box and moved the tray to let it rest against the wall. Then he pulled out a handheld recording device and a yellow legal pad.
Dutton stared at the items, feeling as if he’d transported back fifteen to twenty years.
Who still used a handheld recording device or legal pads?
Most people just used tablets and government issued phones to record conversations.
But he could appreciate a person who was old school.
Dutton was one of them with his classic cars and his small but prized watch collection.
He’d much rather wear an interesting time piece than be looking at his phone all day to determine the time.
The door opened again, and Agent Avery and a woman with bright blue eyes and long gray hair walked in.
“May I have a moment alone with my client, please?” the woman asked.
“Of course,” Agent Parker said as he stood. He gestured to Avery, and the two of them disappeared.
“Mr. Williams,” the woman said, holding her hand out to him. “I’m Lorna White, your attorney. Your brother Briggs called me and said you’ve run into a bit of trouble.”
Dutton blew out a breath as he shook her hand. “I think it’s fair to say that, considering they removed my magical capabilities and I have been stuck in here all afternoon.”
“I’m sorry they stripped your powers. That’s always disorienting. Now, I’ve already talked to Agent Avery. He says they have evidence of you starting a fire down by the Keating Hollow River last Saturday. They want to question you about it, but you’ve refused to speak. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod.
“And you haven’t said anything to them?” she asked. “Nothing at all?”
“I told them I didn’t start any fires, but other than that, no.”
“Good. Very good. You did the right thing by calling your brother and asking for a lawyer.” She took a seat on the couch beside him. “Now. Tell me everything I need to know. Where you were, what you did, and who you were with last Saturday.”
That was easy enough. He explained that he was at the car show, witnessed the barbecue fire, and put it out.
He explained seeing the pie shop on fire and stopping to help.
Then he told her about his date with Dahlia and how they’d been together all night until he dropped her at her house. Then he’d gone home.
“Okay. That all seems straightforward enough. Now, tell me about your record. Your brother indicated you’d had some trouble in the past.”
Dutton sucked in a sharp breath. “This is where things get complicated.”
“I’m all ears,” Lorna said without an ounce of judgment.
Although he’d rather have his toenails ripped off than get into his history, Dutton steeled himself and told her everything.
By the time he was done, Lorna’s expression had gone from mild interest to something closer to pity.