Detective Rick Sampson stands outside the interrogation room, on the phone with Tom, his daughter Christina’s new babysitter. He’d been away from her for the past 48 hours, lost in the shit storm that the investigation had created, and he was anxious to finish the case and get back home.
“Hello, Mr. Sampson. How are things going?”
“I can’t discuss it Tom, but it’ll be a few more hours at least,” Rick sighs.
“I understand.”
“Can I talk to Christina?”
“She’s already asleep, but I can wake her if you want.”
“Oh no, that’s okay. I have to go now, just make sure to keep the TV’s volume down.”
“Will do, Mr. Sampson,” Tom replies, cutting the line.
Rick slides the mobile phone back into his pocket and steps into the interrogation room.
The room is illuminated by a single small bulb hanging from the ceiling, leaving plenty of shadow to bask in glee, unhurt by it’s pitiful glow. The man sitting at the table glances up and smiles, picking his teeth and examining what he’s found. His beady eyes are concealed by the tangled mess of what Rick’s grandfather would’ve called ‘hippy hair’. The man is Frank Carter. Rick finds the mere sight of him repulsive.
Rick turns away and closes the door, easing it shut the way a parent might rock a newborn child to sleep. He quickly turns back, as if he’s afraid to leave his back to the man for more than a few seconds, despite his legs and arms being securely cuffed.
Rick takes his seat, setting a small brown case folder on the desk. He flips through the file, snatching up a picture of a young girl and holding it in front of the prisoner’s face.
“We found her dead three days ago. She was only sixteen. Too young to die.”
Carter raises his head which, until now, had been bowed as if in a silent prayer.
“Life is but the first step towards death, detective.”
“Is that why you killed her, to push along that step?”
“It seemed to me she had no reason to live,” Carter whispers.
Rick pushes himself up from the table and slams the second photo in front of Carter. It was the crime scene photo of the girl's body. She’d been hacked at with a sharp object before strangled, a white sheet was duck-taped over her face.
“Why’d you cover her face!? Couldn’t even look her in the eyes when you raped and strangled her!? Answer me you son of a bitch!”
“The devil has many eyes, detective, you can lose your soul if you stare into them too long.”
“Enough Carter!” Rick shouts, spittle flying from his lips, “Enough of this biblical trash! All I care about is one thing, and one thing only, who was your partner? We know there was someone else there.”
Carter opens his eyes, raising his head to meet Rick’s gaze.
“You know the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. Now that wasn’t from the bible,” Carter whispers, smiling.
“The Usual Suspect, Jesus Christ.”
Rick turns, trying to stop himself from reaching across the table and ripping out Carter’s throat.
Carter glances down at his wrists.
“You know these cuffs are very uncomfortable.”
“Keep it up, Carter.”
“Very well, detective, may I at least have a glass of water?”
Rick turns and stares at the two way mirror where the tape recording team sat on the other side. A voice issues from the loudspeakers above.
“Go ahead, Rick.”
Rick stands and takes the silver pitcher from the back table, setting aside the cup and pulling out his keys. With a snap the handcuffs around Carter’s hands come off. Rick pours the water and quickly takes the pitcher away.
Carter sits for a few seconds, rubbing his hands, before taking a sip of the water.
“I see that my coat is on the table behind you,” Carter whispers.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I trust all my personal items are still there?”
“Yes, why do you want to know?”
“No reason.”
Carter falls silent again, taking a long drag from the cup. He suddenly begins to chuckle to himself, ending in an uncontrollable laugh.
“What the hell is so funny, Carter?”
Carter shakes his head, coughing from the water.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I was just remembering a funny joke your daughter Christina told me.”
Rick’s pencil slips from his hand, falling to the ground with a soft tap.
“What did you say?”
“You know your daughter has beautiful eyes. It would be a shame if anything happened to her.”
“What are you talking about, Carter? How do you know my daughter’s name?” Rick asks, feeling beads of cold sweat begin to form above his brow.
“You wanted my partner’s name, detective? Go to my coat and check the back pocket, all your answers wait there.”
Rick stands, rushing to the other side of the room. From the jacket he takes a small camera phone.
“Turn it on. You know, Mr. Sampson, I’ve always admired you-”
“Shut up,” Rick says harshly, pressing the power button.
“Especially for raising sweet Christina all on your own-”
“I told you to shut up!”
The phone flashes and a small picture appears on the screen.
“No...” Rick whispers, dropping the phone.
In the split second before the cheap glass screen shatters from the fall, a picture of Tom, standing side by side with Carter, can be seen.
