Chapter 9
"Alright, Mr. White, why don't you talk me through it one more time," said the detective as he sat in the chair he had vacated almost two hours prior when he left me alone in the interrogation room.
The annoyed tone in his voice didn't seem to be just a consequence of him working at this hour. It was just past midnight by now and I, too, started to feel the exhaustion of the day take its toll on me. But it still sounded like he was unhappy with my story for some reason. The sole saving grace for this whole situation was that this interrogation room was, by far, the safest place for me to be at that moment if those guys were still trying to find out how I managed to make my escape.
"Why? I already told you, in great detail. Twice!" My own voice was clearly showing my exhaustion. "If you check the gas station's surveillance, it'll give you a better picture of the girl than I could by describing her!"
"Well, there lies the problem, Mr. White. We did check their surveillance feed. But all it shows is you walking out of frame with a person smaller than you. At least the way that person was dressed suggests that she was female. But we have no idea where you went with her, and it doesn't show the alleged 'big Russian guy' you claim made you get in their car at gunpoint."
Despite my weary mind, I slowly started to understand where this was going. And I didn't like it at all.
"And... the cabin?" I asked carefully.
"Yes. The fire department did find a huge amount of broken tiles in the rubble after they put the fire out, confirming that it must have been covered in them on the inside, just like you said. But, sadly,... or luckily... they couldn't find any human remains. So, right now, we have you running from a potential forest fire, while basically nothing you told us about how you got there checks out."
Yeah. I felt a sudden rush of relief flood through my body after he told me that they hadn't found any signs of human remains in the rubble. It told me that the girl I thought they shot just might have survived, as I couldn't see any reason for them to take the body with them if they had planned to light the place on fire. Still, this wasn't entirely good news. They thought I had caused the fire, no question about that. But did they seriously think I'd make up a story about abduction and murder, of all things, as a cover-up for accidentally lighting a cabin on fire!?
"What's with the license plate number of the Escalade I told you about?"
"Mr. White," the detective sighed again. "There is no such license plate registered in any state, so either you memorized it wrong, or you made it up. That's the question I'm tasked to answer tonight." I refrained from pointing out the third possibility. That the guy simply had a fake license plate on his car.
"Well... Check out the girl's phone!" I said with slight annoyance in my voice, causing him to sigh.
"We have. Prepaid plan without registration. No contacts, photos, or videos on the phone. Nothing to go by."
"What about... tire marks... or wildlife cameras?" I knew I sounded desperate by now, but the possibility of them being unable to find
any
proof of my story being true was... unnerving. It didn't exactly surprise me when the guy shook his head with a pitying look on his face.
"Even if there had been tire marks... after firefighting operations turned the ground into mud, state park police drove around searching for clues, and all the gawkers ran around trying to get a good shot with their phones for their Instagram accounts, there's nothing left to investigate. And let's be honest here... We won't seize the memory cards in all the wildlife cameras, and pull the feeds of all the ATMs and home surveillance installations across the route you claim to have been taken, to then spend hours examining all that material. Of course, if there was a body, like you claimed, it would be a different story. But there isn't one." He had delivered this little speech with audible amusement in his voice. Not only did it tell me that he didn't take me seriously, but it also told me that any more desperate pleas on my part would probably make me sound like even more of a lunatic. "Why don't you start by explaining to me why anyone would even have an interest in abducting you in the first place?"
I probably should have handled this situation with a lot more caution, but the advanced evening, in combination with everything that had happened to me over the past few hours, took quite a toll on my ability to compose myself. So, when I answered him, I might have sounded a little more sarcastic than I would have liked under different circumstances.
"Well, you see, I'm currently working a case involving a U.S. senator, multiple hacked banking institutions in multiple countries, witnesses turning up dead under questionable circumstances, and, oh, did I mention that, just a few days ago, they broke into my apartment and tried to plant fucking child porn on my computer!?"
Luckily, and despite my fears, he did not look at me like I had completely lost my mind. The sneer had vanished from his face, and he seemed to take the whole situation a little more serious now. Sadly, though, telling him all of this was still a mistake. His expression told me that he didn't take me more seriously because he believed what I just said about investigating a conspiracy of that scale. I think he just heard me say 'child porn on my computer' and was now contemplating whether or not I feared they would search my apartment and wanted to proactively give an excuse for what they might find.
He had just taken a deep breath as he unfolded his arms when we heard a knock on the door and he got up to leave the room. Before he had a chance to reach the door, though, it opened by itself, and I saw Breston and Bill step through it. For a moment, all exhaustion left my body and was replaced by a curious mixture of relief and shame. Relief, because this proved once more how Bill continuously had my back. Shame, because I saw the look in Bill's eyes as he looked at me in clear disappointment.
"Who are you?" the detective asked in an alarmed and yet confused tone.
"His legal team," Breston replied with amusement before the two of them sat down to either side of me.
Suddenly, I felt the back of my head being slapped, strong enough to cause my head to fly forward a little, and, when I turned towards Bill, he returned my look with nothing but anger in his eyes.
"Do I need to fucking explain why I'm pissed, or do you think you could figure it out by yourself?" Bill asked in a growl.
Now the relief I felt earlier was gone, and only the shame was left. To my surprise, I suddenly realized that I wasn't embarrassed about getting caught by those people. I wasn't even embarrassed about my realization of my shortcomings from earlier that day, which also led to me being caught. I was embarrassed about upsetting the man! And, to make this even worse, he didn't sound threatening in any way. It was more like his disappointment in me had reached previously unthinkable heights.
