Misguided Truths: Part One by Sarah Elizabeth Page A

to get home to feed their dog or something. Dead girlfriend? Wow. You must be really desperate if you think that’s gonna work in here.”
    If I thought I’d get away with it, I’d have that jackass punk on the floor and beat the shit outta him for what he just said.
    He turns around and I see him placing the silver locket in a clear bag, “Hey! Hey, what are you doin’ with that?” I step forward and notice the security guards on either side of the desk stepping forward. “You … no. No, I need it for—”
    “All personal possessions nee d to be bagged and locked securely away until you sign the papers for their release on your way out of the building. And, son? The chances of that being any time soon are extremely slim. So, I need you to step forward and sign this form so we can take your fingerprints and police photograph before you’re taken in for questioning.”
    “But you don’t understand. You’re not listening to me. I need to take it to her… I can’t miss her funeral. I need to say goodbye. Please? Please. I need to say goodbye to her!” What is he not understanding here?
    “You won’t be saying goodbye to nobody today,” he ushers me forward and pushes a pen in my hand.
    “ I need my friend to come by and get that necklace. Please? When do I get to make my call?” I ask the woman who’s sitting behind the desk with desperation. She looks up from her computer and over to a police officer who looks as though has just come on duty.
    “Give me a second,” s he throws me a small, solemn smile and walks towards the female officer. I glance around, and after a few minutes of tapping my fingers impatiently on the desk, she walks back over to me with the female cop following closely behind her, while gesturing towards the phone.
    I swallow while my mind races on who I should call. I get one call. One . I need at least five.
    “Hello?”
    “Neil … Neil it’s me.”
     
    ***
     
    “How many more times?” As I stand, the chair I was just sitting on falls backwards and hits the ground, but I don’t let it phase me. “It’s not mine!” I rake both of my hands through my hair. I’ve never felt this frustrated before in my whole life. I start pacing back and forth in front of the desk and try to calm my breaths.
    “Then how do you propose the heroine made its way into your bedroom, Mr. Taylor?”
    I swear, if he calls me Mr. Taylor one more fucking time … “I’ve already told you,” I close my eyes and take another couple of deep breaths. When I reopen them, both of the detectives are staring directly at me. The guy with narrowed eyes, and the woman? Well, she’s just looking at me. “I’ve never seen it before it my life. I don’t do drugs. I don’t deal drugs. It’s. Not. Mine.” I say angrily say through my gritted teeth, and notice the female detective writing a few things down on her notepad. The male sits lazily back in his seat and crosses his hands behind his head, still staring right at me.
    A knock on the door interrupts the little stare off we had going on, and once he clears his throat, he stands and heads over to open it up. He talks with someone who’s standing on the other side for a couple of moments, before loo king back over to the two of us, “I’ll be back.” And with that, he leaves the room. Yes, I don’t doubt that, Arnie .
    I don’t know how long I’ve been in here answering their questions though it’s obvious they don’t believe anything I’m telling them anyway. They know things. Things they shouldn’t know. They asked about mine and Holly’s relationship. They knew things were rough over the last week before she … before it happened. How? How did they know this and why is any of that relevant to their investigation?
    Shaking my head, I begin pacing the floor again, “Brandon?” I hear the one remaining cop speak. “Is it okay if I call you Brandon?”
    “Is this the part where you pretend to be my friend, just so you can try and trick