“Still nothing to say, huh?”

Ollie pulled his gaze from the concrete floor to see Andy leaning over the metal table between them, boring a hole into his skull with his angry glare. Fluorescent lights hummed from the ceiling, illuminating the spotless finish on the white walls and the stark interior of the Ferndale Police HQ interrogation room. The all-too-obvious two-way mirror filled the wall to Ollie’s left, though he doubted anyone was watching. Other than Andy and Detective Townsend, sitting in a chair across from him, holding a notepad and pencil, he’d only seen two other officers in the building, and one was a junior guy manning the front lobby desk. Andy hadn’t been kidding when he said Ferndale only had seven police officers, including the Chief.

“You think that’ll play well with a jury? Taking the Fifth on charges of kidnapping?” Andy shook his head. “That’s a federal crime. That’s the kind of thing the FBI gets involved in. Once I walk out of this room and give them a call, they’ll probably toss you into a van headed for Lompoc. A federal prison. Where parole doesn’t happen for psychos like you.” He smirked and spread his arms, as if offering some sort of sage advice. “So, if you want to avoid spending the rest of your life watching your back in the shower, then you need to quit stalling and start giving us some sort of explanation for what you were doing out there today.”

Ollie leaned back in his metal chair. He would have crossed his arms if not for the handcuffs. “Does that also include the busted taillight?”

Andy’s smirk twisted in rage. He leaned across the table and might have done something drastic had Townsend not grabbed Andy’s arm and pulled him back to his seat.

“Let’s keep our cool,” Townsend said, eyeing Andy. He was middle-aged, with a prominent belly under a cleanly pressed, pin-striped dress shirt and a gold-colored tie. He had thick brown hair, an even thicker mustache, and wore square rimmed glasses. He had a distinct Commissioner Gordon vibe to him.

“I have a better idea,” Andy said, ignoring the advice. “Maybe we go check your car and see what kind of serial killer paraphernalia you’re hiding in there. What do you think we’ll find? Your ‘landscaping’ tools? Let me guess, an axe and some knives? More guns? Gloves to hide your fingerprints? What about that black eye? Is that from one of your victims fighting back? Like maybe the guy they found this morning torn to pieces?”

Ollie’s lips formed a thin line. He’d spent the last half hour doing everything he could to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t have a believable defense for what he’d been charged with, and any sort of half-baked explanation might only get him in more trouble. But every so often, Andy did something that made it impossible for him to stay quiet. He looked at Townsend. “You know, for a scenic little tourist destination, the people in this town are incredibly rude.”

“Cooperating only helps you here, Mr. Hauk,” Townsend said, his professional demeanor a stark contrast to Andy’s wild outbursts, “and you can use all the help you can get. I’m not sure you understand how much trouble you’re in.”

“You think I’m not cooperating?” Ollie said. “I haven’t even asked for a lawyer.”

Andy scoffed. “That’s because you know you’re guilty.”

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Ollie shook his head. “Coming to this town was poor judgement. Not a crime.”

Andy fumed and Townsend immediately put his hand on the younger officer’s shoulder. Andy leaned back and crossed his arms, visibly composing himself. “We caught you red-handed,” he continued. “We have two witnesses out there who accuse you of kidnapping them, one of them tied up with a rope in your hands. You had a gun in your possession. Once we get a warrant we’ll be checking your car, and I’m sure we’ll find a treasure trove of evidence in there. Oh, and apparently you’re a person of interest for a few interesting felonies in New Orleans. I wonder what they’ll say when I give them a call?”

Ollie bit his lip. He hadn’t expected them to find out about that so quickly.

Andy cocked his head. “I’m curious what your play is. You have almost zero chance of getting out of this, but you’re sitting there, cool as a cucumber. It’s like you’re waiting for God to come down from the heavens and proclaim your innocence, but I can guarantee you that ain’t happening. Either that or you know you’re guilty and you’ve decided your last act in this world is screwing around with us. So, which is it? What are you waiting for?”

Ollie tried not to laugh at Andy’s idea of witnesses. Those two were the worst witnesses he could possibly… Ollie blinked as salvation came to him. He knew how to save himself. Which was great, because he’d been stalling for a really long time.

He sat up straight. “You know what? You’re right. I’m done waiting. I’ll confess. I’ll confess to all the charges right now.”

Andy and Townsend both went still, neither of them daring to say anything that might make Ollie change his mind.

“I’ll take the blame for anything you want to pin on me,” Ollie continued. “But, you have to do two things for me first.”

Andy and Townsend shared an uneasy look.

“And what’s that?” Townsend asked.

Ollie rested his elbows on the table. “First, I want you to produce some ironclad identification for Mariah and the old man. I want to see Social Security numbers, driver’s licenses, birth certificates, you name it. Show me that those two witnesses out there actually exist according to the United States government, and I’ll confess to anything you can dream of.”

“Done,” Andy said, his eyes boring into Ollie’s skull. “This isn’t some backwater town. You think we can’t find their identification? Mr. Ogbert has worked in that cemetery for five years. I’m gonna have you locked up for the rest of your life by tonight.”

Ollie shook his head. “No, not you. You’re going to do item number two on my list. You need to go to Kimmie’s house, right now, and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her leave the house.”

Andy’s cocky smile melted away. He hopped to his feet and slipped the gun from his holster. Townsend leaned forward.

“Allsome, holster your weapon.”

Andy ignored him. He walked around and stood behind Ollie, resting his free hand on Ollie’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“No whys,” Ollie said, unperturbed. “Just do it.”

“Allsome…” Townsend’s voice lowered an octave.

“You think you’re in control of this situation?” Andy said to Ollie, ignoring Townsend’s warning.

Ollie held up his cuffed hands. “I’m not in control. That’s why I need you to check on Kimmie. The more time you waste playing bad cop, the greater the chance something could happen. If you need an excuse for being there, tell her the truth. You suspect me of being a bad guy. She won’t believe that, of course, but it’ll at least get you in the door.”

He felt Andy’s hot breath on his neck, and he worried that he might have egged this guy on a little too much. Fortunately, Townsend saved the day.

“Go,” the detective said. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Andy lingered behind Ollie for a moment longer than necessary, then holstered his pistol and stormed out of the room. Once they were alone, Townsend took a long, deep breath. He stood up from his chair and gathered his folder together.

“You’re playing games with us, Mr. Hauk, when you could be telling us the truth.” He looked at him over the top of his glasses. “If people get hurt because of that, it’ll be on you.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know what’s going on?”

Townsend nodded. “I do.”

Ollie leaned back into his chair, preparing for a long night. “Don’t be so sure.”