( Rafael P.O.V. )
( FLASHBACK )
Last week
"Who the fuck does he think he is?"
Watching the man through the one-way glass, I glanced over at Cruz as he rested both of his hands on the bar, leaning forward. His dead eyes carefully inspected the man in the other room.
Sitting at the table across from the detectives, some files and papers lying around, untouched, his lips moved of their own accord, fingers tapping the surface of the table nervously. He was drenched in his own sweat, as if he knew someone was watching him from the other side.
"Would you like us to run a polygraph test on him, sir? It might be helpful." One of the officers offered as he stepped into the observation room. He was holding a file in one hand. A cell phone on the other.
"Christopher Murray." The officer noted as he walked over to deliver Cruz the file, "Twenty-five. Male. He's a friend of Tristen Warner, one of our special deputy sheriffs."
"Special." Cruz scoffed, "How fucking special."
The officer cleared his throat, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"He came a lot. Maybe five or six times already this week. But had not yet filed any reports since then." He draw a deep sigh, "The other day, I overheard he mentioned something to Tristen. An ongoing abuse. Not of himself. Of some minors, I believe. A woman."
My glance snapped back to the officer.
"But because he mentioned some names. I suggested Tristen to put him on hold as we're obligated to make further investigations to determine whether the reports are valid, or just another false accusation."
"It's false." Cruz exhorted.
I looked over at him.
His jaw flexed as he waved to dismiss the officer and the rest of his team.
Once there was just the two of us in the observation room, our movements were so in sync as we both looked at each other.
"How." Cruz breathed in disbelief. He took a few steps backward and glanced around.
"How close are they?" I asked.
Cruz gave me a blank look.
"The guy works at your club." I said, annoyingly.
"He works for me. We aren't buddies." He snarled.
"We will keep an eyes on him." I suggested.
"And?" Cruz dwelled. His tense expression relaxed a bit and the fire in his eyes gradually died down.
"I don't fucking know, Cruz. But you're not shooting this one." I snapped.
Cruz had a tendency to act out of range with no fuck given to the consequences which would follow.
In the three of us, I believed him to be the biggest headache.
YOU ARE READING
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