23: Interrogation

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Aaron

"What the heck?!" I muttered as Luke sat in front of me. He had beads of sweat slowly dripping from his forehead and upper lip. I could practically see his heart as it thump, thump, thumped loudly against his chest. However, I couldn't hear what he was thinking. I couldn't hear what anyone was thinking. At all. My mind was a rift of absolute silence. He looked beyond anxious as he watched me, picking at the cuticles of his nails as he stared, eyes nervously shifting around the room before he solidified his gaze on mine.

"What?" Luke asked, more aggressive than I'd expected. His eyes were wide and wild, like a madman. He looked like he was ready to pounce and attack me, tear me apart and toss me in a lagoon. My fingers instinctively went toward the gun on my hip, but I didn't pull it out. Then, he looked at me and froze, softly saying, "thank you."

The words left his mouth, but I had no idea what he was thanking me for. I crossed my arms over my jacket, confused and realizing that my inability to hear someone's thoughts had only happened once before. It was with Violet. Because her father had forced her to chow down on the same serum of his that I'd destroyed at thirteen. I just knew Dooley had had to have a part in all of this. The coincidences were too often. Too available. But I had no confirmation aside from not being able to hear Luke's thoughts anymore, by being surrounded with complete and utter silence.

I still didn't know why he was thanking me. I still didn't know why he was here. I still didn't know why he was staring at me.

If only Zya would listen to me. At least look into what I was theorizing. Dooley was a bad person, he would plan and scheme the second he got out of jail. I just wished I knew what he wanted. Things kept happening, like pieces of a puzzle. And I was clueless as to why or even, who was causing them. But I had a pretty big hunch that it might be the man that just escaped the bars I'd hoped to have him trapped in for longer. It was one of the main reasons I'd chosen this line of work, in order to figure out a way to keep Dooley locked up— for good. In order to save those who might be victims of unexplainable crimes.

But then again, I hadn't seen him. All I knew about him was that he went looking for me after his release. Maybe he'd just wanted to meet up to apologize and tell me to move on with life. My gut told me that receiving an apology from Dooley was highly unlikely.

If only I didn't have to lie behind Zya's back in order to try to solve whatever the hell was going on. Maybe this was completely unrelated. Two dead girls, both somehow related to Luke Parker. Maybe Luke just had a thirst for blood, maybe someone had third-partied in. I was lacking too much information, but one thing was for sure. Ophelia was Luke's cousin, and Caroline, as I'd learned, was his friend.

It didn't add up: if Dooley was involved, why was he going after some kid's friends, especially when he was after me. At least, I assume he's after me. Who else would he be trying to chase down.

Violet. The answer rushed to the forefront of my mind before I could stop it and I felt unsteady in my seat. I knew she was angry with me for what I'd said to her precious boyfriend last night, but I had to drive out to Barrier today. I had to get there soon. I didn't want anything to happen to her. If Dooley was after his own daughter, it only confused me more. It seemed like a sideways plan. Perhaps this was somehow part of a bigger scheme, a methodical plan that ultimately ends in my demise. Dooley was a lot of things, but most importantly, he was intelligent. He'd gotten away with too many unethical things before it caught up to him— before Violet caught up to him. I was suddenly afraid, gulping audibly as I tried to steady my racing thoughts.

I turned my attention to the young boy sitting in front of me. He was sixteen at most, maybe seventeen. His shaggy brown hair hung over his eyes, looking like he hadn't washed it in days. His eyes looked a tired blue, a sad expression as he watched me nervously, fingers clasping and unclasping.

I tried to focus on what he could possibly be thinking, but nothing came up. This had only happened once before. Only once before had I been unable to hear someone's thoughts, only in that case it was slightly different. Back in high school, Violet and I had been inseparable when we'd first met. It had something to do with Dooley's experiment, though it took us a while to connect those dots and free ourselves from those sharp claws he'd entrapped us in.

My eyes looked like flying saucers as a horrified look overcame me. I feared I'd end up stuck with this kid. Something was definitely not right. Something was off about him and I had very few ways of figuring that out. It really bothered me that I couldn't hear this kid's innermost secrets. I'd been hoping he'd spill the beans about Caroline by now, considering his stories never aligned when talking to other detectives. Nobody seemed to care about those cases, not as much as I did anyway.

But instead, nothing. I could not hear a single thing from him or anyone in the building. I rubbed two thumbs to my temples in frustration.

Earlier today, Luke had hobbled into the police station and told Bianca that he was looking for me. And obviously, with all her distaste toward me, she didn't hesitate to send Luke my way.

"Why are you here, Luke?" I tapped my finger against my bicep impatiently. I had too many things to do and focusing some kid wasn't exactly my biggest priority. My mind drifted to Violet again— and how angry she'd been at me last night at dinner. She'd need to forgive me because I would be spending a lot more time with her now. And while I know that Violet can handle herself better than most, I want— no, need— to protect her.

I sighed. It was all I could do other than throw random shit around the room as frustration became me.

Lost in my thoughts, I'd almost forgotten that Luke was sitting right in front of me. I wondered if he was acting psychotic because he was upset about his dead cousin— I wouldn't blame him. I'd be hysterical if any of my family members died. "Answer the damn question, I don't have all day." I ran an impatient hand through my hair as the kid clenched and unclenched his fists.

He was staring at me like I'd just given him the parted the sea in half He looked at me like I was some mystical creature, here to save him. He visibly relaxed when I looked at him and I quirked an eyebrow in response.

He shook his head, let out a laugh, and stood up. The metal chair he'd sat on squeaked loudly as if grounded against the metal ground.

"I thought I was going crazy," he laughed louder, a maniacal sound as he placed his fingers in his pockets and pulled out a keychain. It was small, with soft brown spots on it. "But it's all true!"

L.P. was engrained into old, rustic looking thing. I wondered if the brown was because the metal was rotting, if it had been revived from an impossibly muddy place, or if it was simply dried blood stuck in the small corners of the diamond-shaped object. I eyed him carefully, confused as he dropped it in front of me and held out both his wrists.

He looked me dead in the eye and said, "I killed Caroline. Arrest me."

"What?" I didn't know what to say, I was too shocked to open my mouth and too uncertain if he was telling the truth or not. Everything did point to him, but I couldn't verify these statements and I desperately needed to know why I couldn't. And who he was defending if this was not the truth.

"I killed Caroline Vesper. Stabbed her in the throat, she died right in front of me. I'd chased her after school, I wanted to hurt her. Arrest me. Kill me. I don't care. I don't deserve to live anymore." He said, his monotonous tone turning into a myriad of sobs. I was suddenly uncomfortable. I looked away. "No! Look at me! Please look at me!" He said, tears flooding his cheeks as his hands instantly went to his ears, wrapping around his head as his elbows met. He buried his head in his hands, pain shaking his body.

I felt sorry for the kid. But if he was the murderer that he claimed to be, I would need to arrest him. I eyed him suspiciously, my brain suddenly choosing not to work in the cold office. He was crying hard now.

I sighed. "Is there a reason you requested to speak to me, Luke?" I asked, noticing the flash of red in his eyes that disappeared instantly. I wondered if it had even been there to begin with.

"No. I'm here to tell the truth." He actually smiled now and I wondered what the hell was going on with this kid? The last time I'd spoken to him, he's been so nonchalant. He'd been a quick study, I was suspicious of him, but he hadn't been my main suspect because I believed this was bigger than just a kid with a thirst for blood. It had to be— otherwise, Zya was right and I was just dumb.

"Interesting." I said, silently watching him. My greatest tactic was remaining silent in the cold interrogation rooms, they always got anxious and spoke too many words, thought too many thoughts, when all I gave them was silence.

Luke stared right back at me, retuning to his seat and placing his hands back on the table, waiting for me to put handcuffs over his wrists. I simply looked at him thoughtfully, a newfound patience encompassing me.

"Just arrest me!" He cried out after a few minutes, "I don't deserve to be here right now! Better yet, take that gun! Shoot me! I want..." he was cut off by the loud sobs that prevented his mouth from moving, his lip was quivering and he looked like a lost boy with fear intoxicating him. Fear coursed through his veins like a drug.

Still, I said nothing. Watching the boy as his sobs and panicked screams grew louder and turned into anger and resentment.

"If you don't arrest me," he growled, "I'll kill you next."

The kid was pretty smart, gotta give him that. Threatening a law-ordained employee was something I could arrest him for. But instead, I simply pulled my brows up and smirked. I hoped this kid would say something more useful because I could call his bluff the second the words left his mouth. I hoped he'd say something that would show me the bigger picture. Show me that I wasn't dumb and blaming someone for the pure hatred I felt toward Dooley.

And then, just as I had hoped, he pointed an angry finger at me and shouted, "I know what you are!"

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