126 Met at a Blind Date

"I did the first interview, so I have more insight than you. You'll do really well, anyway." I gave him a playful smile. 

"Okay. We won't aggravate him, okay? Acknowledge his superior status and put pressure on him politely," Nash explained as we walked to the interrogation room. 

When we were standing in front, Sebastian walked over to us. 

"You're leaving?" I asked when I noticed his bag in his hand. 

He nodded. "Yeah, I ordered dinner already, it should arrive shortly after I reach home. Take care," he said softly. 

There were people surrounding us. His doting tone didn't bother me in the least but I could sense the astonishment at the scene that was playing out in front of my colleagues. He closed the distance between us and I was sure that he was going to pat my head once again when he pulled me into his arms. 

After a long day of work, his embrace felt warmer than usual. I didn't feel suffocated like I usually would have. Furthermore, I burrowed into his arm. 

There was pin-drop silence around us before I heard grumbling. 

"Isn't there some police which stops people from displaying affection in the workplace?" Nash commented from beside me. 

Sebastian and I pulled away quickly and looked at Nash with wide eyes. 

"You're just jealous," Sebastian said casually. "Evie, I'll get going now," he claimed and then pivoted in the spot before going out. 

My gaze turned to the others, who stood stock still until they noticed my gaze. With that, the station was abuzz again and I was walking into the interrogation room like nothing had happened.

Nash sat directly opposite to the McCain and mirrored his position. McCain had his elbows on the desk and clutched his fingers together as he stared at the wall. When he heard us, he turned with a stunned look and then gave us a small smile. 

"Mr. McCain, apologies for calling you over again. We are trying to exclude all doubts within twenty-four hours so that we can pursue separate leads," he said. This tactic ensured that we didn't imply that the man sitting in front of us was a prime suspect. Instead, they were simply answering questions and helping us do our jobs. 

The tone made them think they are important and made it easy for us to make them talk when the time came. 

Nash had practiced and perfected the art of 'let me go home' and 'you are the person who can solve all my problems' down to the last syllable, therefore, I didn't offer up my services as of yet. 

I flipped through the paper, mulling over the questions and sequences in my head before I began questioning.

The lack of his lawyer on the seat beside him was felt acutely. 

"We're going to talk about that in a little bit but…" Nash trailed off as he rubbed his finger on his palms, seemingly in deep thought. "We just have a lot of questions to ask."

McCain looked up with a glimmer of hope and said a quick 'Yes,' before returning to the previous position.

I finally sprung into action. "Sorry about the delay. It has been a long day and the weather isn't ideal either. We've been running non-stop despite the power outages in the server." I sat up to face him head-on. 

McCain put his hand palms down in a defensive yet trying to hide his position, and I glanced before searching into his eyes. I introduced ourselves, making sure he followed every word. 

His eyes were alert and he followed the cue of my hand easily. I was just being sensitive because I believed he would jump to call his wretched lawyer if he got close to a confession. Therefore, this was simply covering all our bases. 

"As you know, we are investigating the murder of Maya. Because it is so late at night, I will read you your rights and again, this is a voluntary interview. Anytime you are done, we will drive you home. Given that it is late, this is just a precaution," I said quickly when suspicion flashed in his eyes. He calmed down and leaned forward slightly to look at the piece of paper I had slid to his side of the desk. "Before we ask you any questions, you must understand your rights."

I read him his rights. "If you feel like you can't answer a certain question, you may remain silent. You may call for a lawyer in the middle of the interview at any time."

He was silent for a split second. "Okay."

"If you have any questions about your rights or you want more clarification, ask now or ask at any point in time during the interview. I'll be happy to explain again." I gave him a warm but tired smile. 

"Thank you for being so nice," he said quietly. "I was thinking that I would be condemned as the murderer without being investigated properly!" he pushed back a sob. I reckoned his nervousness was making him tear up and he was using his acting skills to his fullest advantage. 

What a phony. 

"No problem," I said quickly. "If you understand and you wish to answer our questions, please sign this paper. Subsequently, I will sign as a witness." I put forward a pen towards him.

As he signed, he said something that interested me. "I'm going to answer questions… some questions."

Nash, who was slumped in his seat sat up and stretched. "Hey, if you see a question that you feel uncomfortable with, just tell us. We'll move to another one, okay?" he assured. 

That was a lie. We always found ways to ask the same questions in a roundabout way. Reassuring suspects under false pretense was an art Nash had done since the dawn of time. I had yet to learn it, so I left him to do the manipulative work. 

I noted the time after McCain pushed the signed paper back towards me. 

I signed slowly through all the boxes and put the paper aside.

"Oh, did you bring your phone with you?" Nash asked suddenly. He nodded. 

"I'm going to apologize for speaking to you again," I said softly. Nash's chair squeaked and he rolled around in the room with a grin. 

"I think my chair is broken!" he claimed. He looked towards the spare chair in the corner and slugged towards it. "It's a game of musical chair now," he laughed as he picked it up and replaced his. 

McCain watched as the whole exchange happened and I saw him become comfortable with our awkward little shuffle. He crossed his arm on the desk but leaned forward in an open manner. 

"I interviewed you this morning but Detective Nash and I didn't get time to speak about it. A lot of our questions might overlap as we have been running all over the place. If you can give him a recap of what you said would be really helpful."

"The tip we received was from a neighbor who said there was a struggle in the house, but we found no break-ins, so we knew it was someone she would open doors to or had access to her house," I explained. "Would you mind explaining to us a little about it? Of course, I won't hold you to the minute details."

"So, I saw my wife a week and a half ago. I know that the cops were searching for footage of the perpetrator. So, with these circumstances, I was a suspect." He paused. "I was composing all day and didn't go out of my home. So, I don't have a provable alibi. I tried to look for some evidence to prove my position, to see if I had sent any texts around the time…"

I coaxed him on. "The cops had a warrant so I let them search my house and my car. That's about it." 

I nodded. "You mentioned that your wife was seeing another man. Did you find out who it was?" I asked. 

"Ah, yes. It was someone she met on a blind date," he commented bitterly.

"Okay. Do you know if he was visiting that day?"

"Uh… I can't be sure. I wasn't in contact with her for a while."

I nodded sagely.

"She has a job but she is on vacation, so I don't really know her whereabouts."

"You said that you were going to see if you messaged anything during the hours of the murder. Did you find anything in that window?" I asked casually. 

"No, nothing in that window, but I did send messages around that time frame, that should help you pinpoint where I was." He smiled. 

And that was when I knew that he had another phone that he used to contact people apart from the number we had on our hands. Now, we needed to get hold of that before some darned lawyer swooped in and used it as evidence to say he was nowhere near the scene. 

Not that the evidence we had on our hands was easily dismissible. But a small shred of doubt to flip the judgment and as the person investigating and trying to catch the criminal, I couldn't let that happen under my watch.