A Descent into Darkness

Interrogation

I'm oddly calm while in the back of the Crown Victoria. I have always known there was a possibility this day would come. I had always pegged on having one of two possible reactions. There was one where I would go crazy and have to be dragged away screaming. In the other, I would be relieved that finally, I wouldn't be living with secrets anymore, and could finally just take off the mask I wear in front of the world. What I'm feeling now, is a mix of nervous tension and curiosity.

Curiosity, not just over how they pegged me for murder, but how the fuck they found me in that motel. Did they have a tail on me? A tracker? How long have they been on to me? Does Eve know about this?

Oddly, I'm not even worried about the consequences of having failed to complete my task for Eve's father. Which I really should be. Whatever these cops can do to me, I'm sure he could do worse. Probably the thing I'm most upset about is imagining the look of satisfaction on Detective Mohammed's face when she inevitably hears her assumption of something shady about me was correct.

They don't take me to the police station. Instead, they take me to a warehouse which, once inside, appears to be some kind of organized crime unit headquarters. There are bulletin boards everywhere, and detectives milling about doing God knows what. I'm hauled into a room labelled "Interrogation" and put in a chair. Despite everything, my thoughts go to the name of the room.

It doesn't feel right. I thought police called them interview rooms in real life. Must be some kind of ploy to make suspects uneasy. I brace myself for the bad cop routine.

The door to the room opens and in walk two men in suits.

"I'm Detective Jennings," the older one says before gesturing to the other, "this is Detective Constable Hagan." They take their seats and one of them opens a file folder.

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer," I tell them.

"You sure you want your Daddy to know what you've been up to?" the younger one asks.

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer," I repeat, though he is right that I do not relish telling my father I'm innocent before having these guys present whatever evidence they have. And they must have it. They wouldn't be arresting the daughter of one of Southern Ontario's most prominent defence attorneys without it.

"Well, you'll get to call him in due time. Until then, you don't have to talk, just listen," the one called Jennings says. "I think you're going to want to hear what we have to say."

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer."

Jennings sighs. "Repeat your script all you want, Erin. It doesn't change what we have on you. That said, you are clearly very intelligent, and I'm not going to insult you by lying to you. We think you're a repulsive human being who deserves to rot behind bars for life. The sheer efficiency you disposed those bodies we pulled out of the lake by the Scarborough Bluffs, I don't care if they were Nazis, and we know they're not the only ones." He swallows hard, looking like he's hating himself. "That said, I'm sure you're wondering why we brought you here and not to Homicide at headquarters. The reason is, we need your help."

"I'm not saying anything without my... say what?" I break from my legal script, not expecting that last line. What kind of detective gives away the game to the suspect this early? Do they have me so dead to rights that they're that confident? And what could they need my help with? Does it have to do with Eve?

Hagan pulls a document from the file folder in front of him. "Erin Kowalski. Daughter of Andrej and Sofia Kowalski. Born and raised in Richmond Hill, Ontario. Studies Criminology at the University of Toronto St George campus. And approximately a month ago, lured Mitchell Graham and Melinda Jordan to their deaths at the Holiday Inn in Pickering." He looks at me. "How am I doing?"