Page 33

THIRTY-TWO

Dante

I try not to smirk at the stares I’m getting from the detectives. They claim that this is an information session, yet they have me in the interrogation room and are using tactics that clearly illustrate their suspicion of my guilt. I’m not offended. I am guilty, after all; they just can’t prove it. Besides, once Father resurfaces, I will kill him. I just need to be free to do it. The only fear this interaction brings is the small sliver of doubt that I’ll be there for my wife and child. I continue to pretend not to fully understand English while Wyn continues to argue with them like a good lawyer.

They read off things they learned about me, not realizing all they know is what I allow them to know. I know more about them than they do me, but it’s neither here nor there.

The black woman, Sheila, looks mean as hell, but her outfit is stylish and everything about her appearance screams that she is into self-care. I’m assuming she’d have to be since she’s almost thirty years into the job.

She is fifty-three, married with three kids, and waiting patiently to make it to her pension. She didn’t want to be a captain because she doesn’t want to play politics. Alex, her partner, is a fresh detective that feels he was saddled with a partner who only wants to do just enough to get through the day.

He’s thirty-three, divorced, has one child, but is somehow getting murdered by alimony and child support payments. The darkness under his eyes and the near paleness of his skin tell me that he doesn’t sleep much. His financial issues are most likely keeping him awake. The glance I had at his credit report tells me that it won’t be long before he’s on Andrea’s payroll.

I shrug and look at Wyn as if I didn’t understand the last question. It isn’t my goal to pretend not to know what they’re saying forever; I just need them to drop their guard and spill what they think they know.

On cue, Wyn puts up a finger. “I need to step out. One moment.”

The detectives converge in a corner, both whispering terribly. Sheila called me a murderer, but I haven’t killed anyone…lately. Father is still alive, the crime scene was cleaned, and Inaya is my wife. All their questions so far have been about the whereabouts of Father. Alex glances in my direction just before his phone rings.

“Yeah? Send him in.” He turns to Shelia to fill her in on the call. “Detective Mendez is coming to interpret so this piece of shit can’t wiggle out of it.”

Strong words from a man seconds from betraying the badge.

Wyn comes in and I nod to signal that I’ve heard enough. I’m not going to admit to knowing English just yet. I want to find out if Detective Mendez will be honest. A few seconds later, Mendez enters wearing a suit that cost entirely too much to be purchased on a detective salary.

I’ve always wondered why people do such obvious things. No one in the Labrama police department came from or married into money. This means Mendez is most likely not on the up and up. No judgment, it simply means I must remain suspicious until I figure out who’s his benefactor.

Andrea is entirely too thorough to not have mentioned Mendez. I quietly observe as he communicates with the other detectives and Wyn. Wyn may not be fluent, but he understands enough Spanish to handle the interview without a translator, but we want to provide an ignorant front.

The detectives pose questions that Mendez translates slickly to force an affirmative from me. He’s trying to back me into a confession without evidence. While the detectives’ questions are as suspicious as any cop looking for someone else to blame, Mendez’s spin on them is guaranteed to hang me.

Wyn catches on quickly. “Don’t answer that.”

Mendez looks at Wyn, his dark eyes glow with challenge. “I thought you didn’t understand Spanish, Mr. Hale.”

“I don’t,” Wyn volleys. “But I speak body language and inflection. “You’re trying to use a language barrier against my client.”

Wyn picks up his phone while staring at Mendez. “I’ll just call Andrea in to translate on our behalf.”

Sheila and Alex balk, but Mendez’s thin lips stretch into a slick smile, signaling that he believes his benefactor is more powerful than Andrea. That sick feeling-only one of Father’s plots can create-settles in my stomach.

Leaning over, I whisper to Wyn. “Careful, I’m almost certain Father is backing Mendez.”

Wyn nods as he finishes his text, then looks at Sheila. “We don’t need Detective Mendez’s help anymore.”

“I insist,” the snake says. He rubs his hand across his grinning face. His determination to implant himself in this case is evident. “I’m not sure what you read from my body language, but I assure you, I’m honest.”

Even Sheila looks like she doesn’t fully trust Mendez’s commitment. She folds her arms and gives him a sideward glance. “Thank you for filling in George, but we have it from here.”

Mendez’s jaw ticks as he stares at her for a beat. The tension builds in the room until a knock breaks it. Andrea doesn’t wait for them to answer when he walks into the room.

He and Mendez have a stare off with silent treats passing between them before he taps my shoulder.

“Interview is over.” He holds up a hand when Sheila and Alex start to protest. “He’s been away from his pregnant wife long enough.”

The first sliver of surprise flashes over Mendez’s face.

“Wife?” he repeats

“Yes, she’s waiting in the lobby. We’re leaving,” Andrea insists.

I wasn’t aware that Inaya tagged along, but I’m not surprised. She was very upset when I left. I hated to see her cry, but I must put an end to this war with Father. His business is still bleeding money, and I won’t stop until he’s bankrupt and dead.

I stand and move toward the door, anxious to see Inaya. I’m sure she understands that her appearance puts a major hole in their case. I grin at the thought. Inaya perks up when she sees me and taps one of Andrea’s men who is standing with her. He nods as she heads my way.

Her face breaks into a relieved smile as she moves closer. Sheila and Alex aren’t far behind me so I’m sure they don’t miss my wife running into my arms and hugging me like she’s my protector.

“Wait. Aren’t you Inaya Wójcik?” Sheila questions, her voice laced with disbelief.

Inaya nods. “Well, I was Inaya Wójcik. I’m Inaya Orejón now.”

Inaya laces her fingers into mine and drops her free hand on her rounded belly. If their jaws were detachable, they’d have to pick them up off the floor. Mendez, however, looks irked by the discovery and disappears with his phone to his ear.

Andrea studies Mendez’s retreating back, so I shift my attention to the people in front of me; I have no doubt he’ll follow up on his suspicions.

“See? Alive and well. She’s perfectly happy with no duress to be found,” I offer.

“So, you do speak English,” Sheila muses, not the least bit surprised.

“Of course. I just needed to see if you could be trusted. By the way, Mendez twisted everything you asked.”

Inaya and I turn to leave with my hand still in hers, but Alex stops us.

“You still have to answer for the murder of Mari Wójcik.”

Inaya turns abruptly with wild eyes. “My mother?”