Page 34 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)
S carborough arrived at the boat with two uniformed officers. They had their weapons drawn—never a good sign.
I had been waiting for Scarborough in the cockpit. “What’s going on?”
“Step ashore,” Detective Dickhead commanded. “You’re under arrest.”
My brow wrinkled. “What!?”
“You heard me. Are you armed?”
“Yes.”
“Keep your hands in the air and don’t make any sudden movements.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” I asked, my eyes flicking between the eager barrels aimed at me.
“Step ashore. You’re under arrest for the murder of Carter Wallace. ”
“What!? Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t make us come get you.”
I crossed the transom to the dock.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Scarborough demanded.
I complied, and he ratcheted the cold steel around my wrists and wasn’t too gentle about it.
He handed me off to the other officers, then snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves and took my pistol from my holster. He checked the safety and read me my rights as the officers escorted me down the dock to the parking lot.
A few neighbors took in the scene. I’d be the talk of the marina, if I wasn’t already.
“Will you at least lock up my boat?”
The other officers boarded the boat and searched it.
Scarborough ignored me as he stuffed me into the back of a patrol car. A uniformed officer drove me to the station, where I was processed, printed, and put into an interrogation room.
It was a small room with a camera in the corner near the ceiling.
The stark white walls and overhead fluorescents were cold and sterile.
Enough to make you go crazy, and that was the point.
I sat in a chair at a desk. I had no doubt my every move was monitored by someone in another room.
The lack of a clock on the wall or windows made it like a black hole. Time didn’t exist .
It was hard to say how long I was in there, but it was at least an hour before Scarborough paid me a visit. The delay was on purpose—to heighten my anxiety.
He took a seat across the table from me and stared me down for a long moment.
“This is absolute bullshit. You know that.”
“The only thing I know is that your prints were found on a pistol in an alley where Carter was shot.”
My eyes widened with surprise. “Shot?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“Do I look stupid enough to shoot a guy and dump the murder weapon nearby?”
He shrugged and set a pistol on the table. It was contained in an evidence bag. It wasn’t loaded, and I was still handcuffed. “Is that yours?”
It sure looked like mine, from what I could recall. “A pistol was stolen from my boat.”
“How convenient.”
“I called to report it last night, but your system was down. That’s why I called you this morning.”
“So, that is your pistol?”
“Can’t you see that somebody is setting me up?”
“Who?”
I glared at him. “I don’t know who. Maybe the same people that killed Grayson. ”
He laughed. “The people that killed Grayson are dead. You’ve seen to that.”
“There’s something else going on here.”
“You took it upon yourself to investigate this case, despite my warning. Now your prime suspect is dead, shot with your gun.”
“I told you it was stolen.”
“Where were you last night between midnight and 4:00 AM?”
My face tightened. I wasn’t inclined to tell him about my adventure with the Shadow Syndicate.
“When was the last time you saw Carter Wallace?”
I said nothing.
Carter must have been killed shortly after we dropped him off. My mind swirled with possibilities. Had Shadow Syndicate done this?
At that moment, I was glad I didn’t shoot the scumbag when Mr. X gave me the chance. I never thought I would have felt that way, but fate is strange indeed. A few days ago, I was longing to put a bullet in him. Now I wished he were still alive.
The writing was on the wall. I wasn’t going to talk my way out of this. “I want an attorney.”
Scarborough tried to hide his disappointment. “Suit yourself.”
He pushed away from the table, stood up, and walked across the room. He knocked on the door, and a guard buzzed him out. Before he left, he said, “Enjoy life in prison.”