Jack of My Heart

Confidence is Key

"Ms. Tolsford! It's great to see you again!" I beam, leaning forward in the metal seat, the restraints on the back keeping me from standing up. I really don't think I need them, but if it makes the police feel better...
"Do you know why you're here, Jack?" She doesn't return my enthusiasm.
"Honestly, no. Telling you what you want to hear, yes. I am here because I was able to tell you things about the murder by just looking at the body and that makes me a suspect although the case would never pass in court, seeing as how I have an alibi, no motive, and possibly no connection to the deceased. I'm also here because I turned down coming in to be questioned by responding with a call for a warrant which, by the way, you never supplied. I'm here because the crime I committed was- oh, how did Captain Singer so eloquently put it? Ah, yes. 'Spooky-voodoo-shit'. And yes, Captain Singer, I'm going to keep bringing that up," I smile tightly, losing the enthusiasm and warmth as I grow increasingly frustrated.
      "And that was telling me what I wanted to hear?" Laney asks after a moment. The warmth slowly returns as I realize that it isn't her I'm upset with.
      "To the best of my ability," I reply, glancing quickly at the mirrored window. Laney nods slowly and pulls out her chair, leaning back in it.
      "You understand why you knowing all that stuff is suspicious though, right?" She asks, her forehead creasing.
      "If I was the killer, not only would I have been with the victim, but I would lead you away from the crime scene; not toward it. Oh, they didn't tell you that, did they? No, I suppose they wouldn't. Also, why would I tell you to look under the victim's nails if it was my skin you'd find? I understand how what happened is strange, frightening, and unnerving, but suspicious? No," I scoff, attempting to cross my arms, but yelping as I twist my shoulder wrong.
      "Well, you're helpful," Laney grumbles.
      "I'm just telling you the truth," I smile. This is going to be fun. Laney looks over her shoulder and walks over to me, leaning down to whisper in my ear.
      "Please, Jack, just answer the questions. Lie if you have to. If they don't get any logical reasoning they're going to... they're going to test you," She tells me.
      "Test me?" I turn my head to look up at her. She purses her lips, but doesn't answer. I crease my forehead in concern and raise my voice. "The truth is, I'm a demon. Just as the soul is ascending, or descending for that matter, they are in purgatory. You know about purgatory, yes? Well, my job is to see how they died to help decide the punishment for the person. I'm put in their place for just a few moments, until I can see it. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone this, but it was bound to come out sooner or later,"
      Laney looks unamused and slightly concerned.
      "Listen, if you don't want to hear the truth, which is that I don't know, what do you want me to say? Tell me, so that this horse and pony show can be done and we can all get back to work helping people instead of wasting time being suspicious of each other for no good reason," I implore them, looking first to Laney, then the two way mirror.
      "You're suspicious of us?" Laney asks, sitting back down.
      "Not in the 'you're a murderer' way, but yes. Your actions and adept interest in me being able to see what happened is suspicious to me," I respond. Captain Singer bursts into the room and unlocks the cuffs keeping my feet to the chair. He then hauls me up out of the seat and begins to drag me out of the room.
      "Oh, uh, Captain Singer, sir, I was just wondering, when can I have my phone call?" I inquire as I'm being pulled along.
      "You can't," He shoots back, not even looking at me.
      "Well, that's illegal," I say as if I'm talking to an imaginary camera. Singer ignores me and pulls me along, down a set of stairs into a dimly lit, stuffy basement. "S-sir? Where are you taking me?"
      "Shut up, Langdon. You're only gonna make this harder for yourself." Singer shoves me to the ground.
      "I'm sorry, sir, but this is hardly justified. I've been telling you the truth, I swear. I don't know how I can prove it to you, sir, but really, I've been telling the truth," I struggle to squirm up off the dusty floor.
      "Don't you ever stop talking?" He asks rhetorically.
      "Not really, sir. What's going on? I've complied, I've answered all your questions. You wanna do a poly? We can do it up there," I nod my head up towards the interrogation room.
      "I'm sorry, you must have misunderstood. What I meant was: stop talking," He commands, pushing me back down.
      "Aw, I just got back up," I whine, twisting as I try to sit up again. Singer plants a foot on my shoulder, keeping me down.
      "There's something strange going on, and I don't trust it. I don't trust you. Tolsford," He calls, and Laney reluctantly walks out of the shadows. I try to ask her questions with my eyes but she doesn't respond.
      "Go on," Singer sounds exasperated as he waves her on. She goes back into the void and comes back seconds later wheeling a metal table.
      "Is... is that a body?" I stare at the lump on the slab, covered by a white sheet.
      "You continue to amaze me," Singer quips, flinging the sheet to the ground.
      "You know what, I take it back. I am suspicious of you in the 'you're a murderer' way," I swallow hard as I stare at the captain's shoes. Singer ignores me and hauls me to my feet, placing me in front of the table. I look away from the body, making eye contact with Laney instead, silently pleading for her to get me out of there.
      "Maybe we shouldn't-" She begins, but is cut off by Singer's cold stare.
      "What happened to her?" Singer's voice is emotionless. I look down at the ground and Singer grips my jaw, manually turning my head to look at the body. Almost immediately, I crumple to the ground, clawing at my throat. All the breath in my lungs feels like it is slowly being sucked away. As I lie on the floor suffocating I realize how I know the victim's face. That's Madison Brown. I fight to regain my breath, chest heaving in and out. A sharp pain rings out at the base of my skull, feeling as though my skin is blazing.
      "Get up." Captain Singer nudges me with his foot. I slowly and very painfully comply, rising to my feet.
      "Cause of death," He demands, looking me in the eyes.
      "Stab wound and blunt force trauma to the base of the skull," I tell him. Captain Singer turns his head to look at Laney, then both look back at me.
      "Did Martruto tell you anything about the murder?" Singer asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
      "He said it was a suicide," I say before I can stop myself. I hope that doesn't make him a suspect. He would definitely change his mind about me then.
      "And is that what you believe?" He raises an eyebrow. I hesitate, looking at his shoes, then back at him.
      "No, sir," I answer honestly.
      "What did you see?" Laney steps in, sharing a look with Singer.
      "I had- she had her back turned, I think she was in the kitchen, when someone came in. It was someone she knew, but she didn't see their face. They wrapped the cable around her throat and tried to strangle her, but she fought back, and they had to stab her to ensure the death, in a place that wouldn't show that much and wouldn't leak too much blood. Then, they finished the job, tied her up, used her phone to call Vincent and tell him that she was dead," I tell them.
      "How can you be so sure? That it wasn't your friend, I mean," Singer inquires, his lips twitching into a sneer.
      "Vincent was with us the whole time until he got a phone call, presumably from the killer. Like I said, it was someone she knew, so Vincent wouldn't find it too out of the ordinary for them to call and tell him. Oh, and if I had to guess, they took her phone. Probably to frame Vincent, make someone else responsible for the crime," I shrug my shoulders. Laney tries to mask her surprise and slight uneasiness, and to make her feel better I give her a smile. It doesn't work.
      "It's true, we didn't find her phone at the scene... we'll call Martruto in for questioning, see if that clears anything up." He takes a deep breath, then turns back to me. "And you're sure that Vincent didn't tell you anything?"
      "Yes, sir. I'm just telling you what I saw. Now can I get my phone call?" I try to remind him that I'm still in the cuffs.
      "Oh, relax, Jack. You're not under arrest. Do you want a ride back to the law firm?" Singer asks while unlocking the handcuffs. I rub my wrists and nod graciously.
      "Tolsford, take him back," He instructs, then whips the sheet back over the body.
      "What? Why me?" Laney frowns.
      "Just do it," He groans, leaving us in the dark basement. Laney grumbles and starts up the stairs, pausing only to look at me, staring at the body.
      "Come on," She calls, beckoning me along. I follow, shaking myself off from what just happened. I feel incredibly tired, and I just want to pass out, but it's only four in the afternoon.
      Laney takes me back to the office, glancing at my shaking hands the whole way.
      "So really, how do you do that?" She asks.
      "Hm?" I'm barely focusing, gripping the door handle.
      "You look at the body, what, two seconds? And you're already able to give a full case report and profile. And what's with the falling and screaming and stuff?"
      "Number one, I don't scream, just you know... yelp. And number two, that's part of it. I don't just see what happened to them, I take their place. I feel how they died, the pain they went through," I tell her, slightly embarrassed.
      "And you just went through two of these?" Her forehead is creased in what I can only hope is concern.
      "Yeah, I mean, whatever I can do to help," I shrug it off.
      "Yeah... Well, you should go. Warn Vincent that the Captain wants to see him," She tells me. I nod and open the door, stepping out into the street. When I'm on the sidewalk Laney drives away, leaving me looking out after her. I shake my head and walk back into the office, starting the long trek up the stairs.