As the door slammed shut, Allan could hear the bolt turn. His stomach growled again as he stared at the empty plate lying on the table he was handcuffed to. In the past several hours he had only eaten a measly sandwich. He sat alone and stared across at the two-way mirror where he knew his every move was being monitored from the other side. The female officer who had just left the room had been his third interrogator since being booked. Though he had repeated his story again to her, she didn’t seem to believe him either.

Resting his head on his arm, he replayed this afternoon’s events in his mind. After approaching the officer back at Buckingham Fountain, there was a sudden flurry of panic as the officer pressed on his right temple and radioed a set of orders. Within seconds, a crew of paramedics rushed over to Allan and forced him down upon a stretcher. One of them tore open his shirt, ripping several buttons off. She scrambled to feel around the dried blood to find his wound. After a few seconds, she stepped back in confusion as another paramedic reached down and attempted the same action. After he too found nothing, he instructed the other two to hold Allan down. The man then rushed over to where his colleague was sharing a heated discussion with the officer who Allan had originally approached.

By this point, John had made himself scarce. Before Allan could blink, he was being handcuffed by a pair of officers despite his protestations of innocence and dragged to a squad car. One of them placed his hand on Allan’s head and roughly forced him into a sitting position in the back seat, where Allan caught a glimpse of John’s silhouette hiding behind a bush near the street. He shouted in rage at the coward, but his screams fell upon deaf ears.

After booking, he sat in a cell for over an hour despite his multiple demands to speak with an attorney from his law firm. He was then brought into the same interrogation room where he now sat. With his left ankle cuffed to the metal chair, his lower back and buttocks had become very sore over the past several hours. Though an accusation had not been expressed, it was implied by all three of his interrogators that Allan was the murderer of an undisclosed entity. Though frustrated, he was certain that during his most recent interrogation he had finally gained some ground. The female officer had agreed to take a blood sample from Allan and compare them to the samples collected from both the crime scene and Allan’s shirt.

He snapped his head up as he heard the familiar click of the deadbolt. In strode a heavyset woman dressed in scrubs carrying a small bag of medical supplies. He smiled at the woman, who seemed to be a bit uneasy.

“Mr. Young, my name is Patricia. I’m a Medical Assistant, and I’ll be drawing some of your blood today.”

Allan smiled. “No need to be so formal. It would be nice to have a normal conversation today without having to worry about being harassed about every word that comes out of my mouth.”

“I wish I could be more casual, sir.” she responded, returning the smile. “But you must remember that everything you say in here is being recorded and can be used against you in a court of law.”

“Of course,” he sighed. She donned a pair of gloves.

As she tied a tourniquet on his left bicep, his thoughts turned to Lily. He hadn’t been given the opportunity to make a phone call, despite his many demands. By now she had to be panicking.

Unless she doesn’t care about me anymore…

“That just about does it,” Patricia announced, loosening the tourniquet.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He looked down to see the last bit of the syringe filling with blood. He had been so preoccupied that he hadn’t felt the needle prick.

“I’ll take this up to forensics immediately,” she said, packing up her gear. “We should get the lab results shortly.”

“Thank you.”

With that, she turned and left the room. The door closed and bolted once again with an audible click.

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The bolt turned with an audible click, and a female officer entered the room. At the table, Allan slowly lifted his head out of his arms. He looked pale, and there were heavy bags under his eyes.

He remained silent as she sat across from him.

“I’m Lieutenant Vanessa Walker.”

“Nice to meet you.” he groaned, “When are you guys gonna let me out of here?”

“Your story checks out.” she stated flatly.

Allan sighed in relief.

“So, remind me again why you were in the park early this morning?”

Allan cleared his throat. “I thought you said my story checks.”

“I did.”

“Then you have no right to detain me.”

She smiled. “Ah, but I didn’t say we were finished with our investigation.”

“According to the Suspension Clause of the U.S. Constitution, Article one, Section nine, clause two, ‘The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require it.’ Which translates to: you cannot legally detain me without just cause!” He slammed his hands down on the table. “Unless of course you suspect me of terrorism!”

“My, my!” she taunted. “Someone knows their legal rights.”

“I should! I happen to be an attorney!”

She pulled out a photograph from the manila folder. “Do you recognize the vehicle in this picture?”

His eyes lit up in recognition. “Yes, that’s my car.”

“It was conveniently found near the scene of the crime.”

“Well, obviously it was.” He rolled his eyes. “Considering I was one of the victims, common sense would dictate that I was there.”

“So, you admit to being at the scene of the crime near the time of occurrence?”

“I feel like we’re going in circles.” He averted his gaze, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Yes, I was there! Are you happy now?”

She smirked. “Yes, I am. You’ve just made my job easier.”

Allan sighed, shaking his head. “What do you want from me? This is getting ridiculous.”

She leaned over, bringing their faces inches apart. “All right Allan, let’s cut the bull. I don’t know how you pulled it off,” she pulled a stack of photographs from the manila envelope and dumped them onto the table, “but maybe this will jog your memory.”

His eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. Suddenly, he turned his head and began vomiting violently.

Lieutenant Walker’s face fell.

“As I said, your story checks,” she said. “Your blood was found twenty feet from the scene of the crime.”

Allan continued to gag.

“So let me see if I’ve got the story right.” She ventured as she turned up her nose to the putrid odor. “You received a call from the late Jason Bridger at 6:26 AM this morning. He had stumbled across some dangerous information that could potentially harm one of your clients. You met him shortly thereafter, and there was an exchange of angry words. The two of you got into a scuffle, and Jason got the upper hand and bloodied your nose. Your immediate reaction was to plant a bullet in his abdomen followed by another through his chest. He stumbled to the ground, you extracted the information you needed, and then finished him off with a bullet through his brain. Am I missing anything?”

His stomach fully expelled, he continued to dry heave.

She stood over him. “Answer the question!”

His breathing slowed as he wiped his mouth on his shoulder.

”I need... to speak...” he paused, gasping for breath. “...to my lawyer.”

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