Near Miss

Chapter Fifteen: Drivel

Rhiannon had entered the police station with excellent intentions.

She'd responded promptly to Detective Greene's phone call, and she'd only been too happy to come in. Although she'd tried her best to find Dorian Lindquist, the last few hours of searching had proved ineffectual. Most of the websites she'd been recommended had their services blocked by a paywall, and all she'd been able to find about Dorian Lindquist was an old article about an award-winning high school running team. She quickly realized that the police were her best bet- so, when Detective Greene called and asked to speak with her, she and Theodore had agreed: it was excellent timing.

But as soon as Rhiannon pushed through the door, ready to turn for the stairs and make her way up to Greene's office, Nina Morow rose from her neatly arranged desk and marched purposefully towards her. Rhiannon glanced nervously around, shooting one worried look at the door, but Morow reached her before she could decide what to do.

"Greene wants to see you in his office," Morow said matter-of-factly. "Come with me."

"I was just going there," Rhiannon argued. "I remember where it is."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Before Rhiannon could protest, Morow's deft fingers seized her wrists, twisting them behind her back. Flinching at the sudden shock and pain, Rhiannon tried to twist herself out of Morow's grip, but her fingers only tightened, her nails sinking into Rhiannon's wrist. "I said," Morow enunciated, "come with me."

Rhiannon would have liked to enter Greene's office with dignity and pride, with her head held high and her mouth twisted into a confident smirk. She didn't have that much interesting information, but she had her list with her, and she was hoping something would catch Greene's attention, something that would justify her investigation. She was not exactly glad to be frog-marched in as if she was a dangerous criminal about to be brought to justice. Morow gave her hands one last painful twist, causing Rhiannon to cry out and slump backwards into the chair, before leaving the room with a businesslike stride.

"Was that... really... necessary?" Rhiannon gasped, cradling her wrist.

Greene didn't bother with an answer, or a pleasantry, or even a perfunctory greeting. He also didn't inform her of her rights, which was probably a good sign. "Where's the ring?" he snapped. "That's police property."

It took Rhiannon about three seconds, lips parted, to guess what Greene was talking about. "Oh, yeah. Sonia stole it. She told me the police had it, but that was on Wednesday morning- she hadn't talked to you yet."

"How could you possibly know when we talked to her?"

"Well, she said she only found out about Malachi's death on Tuesday night," Rhiannon shrugged. "I talked to the person who she'd said told her, and the story was apparently perfectly true. When she told me she'd given the ring to the police, I thought it was rather suspicious. She hadn't had enough time to talk to you. Also, she opened the conversation by saying that she thought Malachi was only on vacation."

"Only after that did she tell you that she'd found out he'd died on Tuesday night?"

"Exactly!" Rhiannon explained. "It made no sense at all. I expect she told you that she gave the ring to an assistant of a private investigator?"

"Actually, Jorgeson was the one who contacted us first," Greene contradicted. "He told us that the assistant of S. Connor Greaves had asked him a few strange questions, and hadn't presented her credentials. I was rather suspicious of it at first, but after he gave a description, it became pretty clear what was going on."

Rhiannon frowned. Greene had clearly spoken just to contradict her. "But... Sonia did tell you that, right? You must have talked to Sonia before Jorgeson called. It was only today that he was starting to get suspicious of me."