Spy School: Framed for Murder (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter Ten: Interrogation

"This is really quite interesting," Detective Wilson said.

I scowled at him from across the metal table. "I think it's pretty clear that I'm not the murderer. Just look at the phone!"

He ignored my statement. "Your face was caught on camera."

I leaned back. We were currently in an interrogation room at the police station, and I was sitting in a cold, metal chair, my wrists handcuffed to the table. The entire room was built of cold, gray cement, and there was a one-way mirror to my left, where the police were no doubt watching the interrogation.

"You did get the little package I gave you, right?" I said. "Back at Lydia's house."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what those items were supposed to represent."

I sighed, and just for the sake of it, told him, "You're dumber than you look."

He ignored the comment. "Care to explain?"

I sighed again, then began explaining my face mold theory to him. I was surprised, though—he actually listened, like he was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I briefly wondered if this was some sort of trick—although I wasn't sure why he'd want to trick me.

My hopes were deflated when he made a 'pfft' sound after I finished my explanation, although I didn't miss the subtle flick of his wrist in the direction of the mirror.

"That's a far-fetched theory," Wilson told me. "Why are you so convinced it's true?"

"Because it is," I snapped, half-lying. The truth was, I had no clue whether or not my theory was true or not. It could have very well been a coincidence that I'd found those items in the trash chute.

But it also might not have been.

"How do you know how a face cast is made?" Wilson inquired.

I opened my mouth to answer, then paused. I'd learned how to create a face cast when I was hanging out with Mike. We'd decided to have some fun and mold our faces, so we'd looked up how a face cast was made online, then asked our parents to buy the materials for us. It had ended up a massive fail and the entire thing had resulted in a huge mess, but it'd been fun, and I still remembered the instructions.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

If I told him who Mike was, no doubt he would bombard him with questions in an attempt to get to know me better. Not only that, but since Mike was my best friend, he could become a suspect as well. So I changed the story. "It was a school thing. The art teacher bought the supplies and taught us how to do it and then took up a volunteer and molded his face."

"Not a very good art teacher, eh?" Wilson said.

Judging by the tone of his voice, he didn't believe me.

Wilson stood up and slowly circled the room. "What was your motive?"

"For what?" I questioned.

"The murder of the principal," Wilson answered. "What was your motive?"

I shrugged. "I hated him," I said truthfully. I would've preferred not to answer, but I was hoping that he would leave so I could have some time to myself to think about the crime. And hopefully, find a way to escape.

"Why?"

"He hated me."

Wilson waited a brief second for me to elaborate, but when I didn't, he moved on. "What about your girlfriend, Erica? Why is she involved?"

I remained silent, not knowing the answer to his question. Why was she involved? Was it any of her business to try and prove my innocence? Every time she'd joined me for a mission, it was for the greater good of the country. She'd never done something solely for the purpose of saving my life or proving my innocence.