White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"How are you today, Jesabel?" Officer Cross began his interrogation across from me, seated and very composed. There was a one-way mirror on my left, where I was sure my mother and the rest of Cross' associates were watching me. I sat very still, not wanting to seem suspicious. I wasn't.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you asking? Wouldn't you rather just get to the point?"

"It's polite to make conversation."

"Yeah, but you didn't ask me to come here just to have a chat. With all due respect, Officer, get to the point already."

"If you say so." His gentle demeanor took a serious turn.

"Jesabel, we want to know if you were telling us the absolute truth about what you saw that night. Is that still the case?"

I narrowed my eyes. I detested when people spoke down to me, law enforcer or otherwise. "Of course it is."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "We've spoken to a lot of your classmates, and they seem to believe that you're a..."

"Liar?"

"... an untrustworthy witness." He finished. Why was he speaking so warmly to me? Shouldn't he have been cold and detached, like those police officers on cop shows?

The answer hit me seconds later. I was a kid. Officer Cross thought gently coaxing the answer out of me would work.

That just pissed me off.

"That's just a fancy way of saying liar, and you know it," I snapped.

His lips twitched. "If you say so."

I grit my teeth. "Yes. I was telling the truth then, and I'm telling the truth now; I saw them at the back of that alley."

"See, that's what's interesting," he said, looking down at the papers in front of him. "We've taken statements from the store managers, business owners, employees who had been at the same place and time on the night of the disappearance. None of them had anything to note. Nobody had seen two teenagers loitering behind the shops. No CCTV footage we can find can place those two at the back of the shopping district, as you've described to us."

"I know what I saw," I retorted.

"I'm sure you do," he assured me. "But there's also a chance that you may have accidently misremembered."

"I saw them, okay?" I snapped. "I'm not lying! I even heard them arguing! With these." I pointed to my ears. "I'm not an idiot."

"No. You're not. And you never mentioned that there had been any arguing, either."

I bit my lip. Shit.

"Jesabel," he approached the subject slowly this time. "You need to tell us everythingthat you saw. I cannot stress that enough. You are the only real witness we have."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," his sternness turned to frustration. "We've found nothing yet. No leads, no fingerprints, no culprit. I have to be honest with you, Jessabel. And I hope you can be honest with me. All the pointless group interviews we've been conducting? It's all just been a last-ditch effort to find something. Anything. More and more people are reaching a crisis point here in this town. Jennifer Hockley and Robert Blight's families need answers. As soon as possible."

He was convincing. Still, I couldn't help but hesitate. Do this for Robbie.

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you the truth," I lied.

He nodded in return. "Thank you. Now start from the beginning. What happened at the back of that alley and what did you see?"

I closed my eyes and thought back to exactly that moment, describing everything that was happening. How I was walking out of the store through the back way with a bag of tampons, that they had been fighting out of jealousy and spite. That there had been a volatile atmosphere between the two, and how the scene concluded with Jenny storming off. Officer Cross listened intently with no interruptions, scribbling away on his notepad.

"Do you remember what they were wearing?" he asked.

I frowned, thinking back. "Yeah... Robbie was wearing a leather jacket, I think. And these distressed jeans, with rips all along his knees. His shirt had some writing on it..." I closed my eyes again, willing myself to remember the glimpse I had gotten. "Divine Feminine, it said. A blue shirt."

A shirt he wore often. A shirt I remembered well.

I opened my eyes and caught his nod. "That's great. And what about Jennifer?"

I frowned again. "She was wearing... some sort of dress. Sparkly. I think silver. And heels..." I recalled the sound of sharp stilettos thudding furiously against the pavement. I sighed, and sunk back against the uncomfortable chair. "And that's it."

He hummed in acknowledgement, right hand still scribbling. He finished and put the notepad down. "Thank you for your help, Jesabel. You've been perfect. We'll contact you and your mother if we need anything else. And if you remember anything else, absolutely anything, you call me okay?" he handed me a small card, which had his personal number as well as the station number.

"Oh, and just another thing," he noted before I could stand up. "Mark Darren has dropped the charges – whatever charges he'd planned on pressing, that is."

So that hadn't been the real reason for my visit, after all.

Cross was a good liar.

Duly noted. I nodded. We rose at the same time, walking out into the police station foyer. My mother waited outside by the row of seats. She startled and jogged forward to meet us. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's been sorted, Ms. Griffin." He gave her a reassuring smile.

My mother swallowed back her thoughts and reached for my hand. "Good. Can we go now?"

"Of course," he smiled again. "I'll walk you two down to the front reception. I'll let Officer Jones know that we've finished."

We all walked together in silence, and I watched my mother out of the corner of my eye. The buzzing of her movements, the electricity. Interesting. That hadn't happened on the way in.

Her keen interest in him, after having very little interest in anyone else for so long, felt like a stab in the gut. An irrational one, but a stab in the gut nonetheless.

Have you already forgotten him? Have you forgotten what happened?

After maneuvering through the many rooms and corridors, we were greeted by light rain and grey skies at the exit. Officer Cross let go of the hand he had lightly placed on the small of my mother's back.

Her posture slumped.