Bound By Sin

"That's Not A Very Serial Killer Classic."

The interrogation room was cold, the air heavy with anticipation. Detective Blackwood sat at one end of the metal table, his hands folded neatly in front of him, while Detective Caldwell leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her sharp eyes tracking every movement. The air was thick with tension as they waited for Nicholas to arrive.

When the door swung open, Nicholas strolled in. But this wasn't the Nicholas they'd questioned before—the one who had always been defensive, nervous, sometimes angry. No, this time he looked almost amused. A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled out the chair and sat down across from them with a careless ease. His blonde hair caught the light from above, and the smile he flashed them didn't reach his eyes.

Blackwood exchanged a brief glance with Caldwell, a silent communication passing between them. Something's different.

"Morning, Nicholas," Blackwood began, keeping his tone neutral. "Thanks for coming in."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, the smirk growing wider. "Like I had a choice, right? You guys just love having me here. What's this, the fifth time?" He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed casually, like he was completely in control of the room.

Blackwood shifted, trying to keep his calm. "We've got a few more questions for you, that's all. And considering everything that's been going on..." He let the sentence trail off, waiting for Nicholas to respond. When he didn't, Blackwood continued, "You know why you're here. There's been another development in the investigation."

"Development," Nicholas echoed with a chuckle. "That's a fancy way of saying you're running out of people to blame, huh?" He shook his head, his smirk growing. "You think I'm the guy you're looking for now, don't you?"

Caldwell stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "You tell us, Nicholas. We've had witnesses describe someone who looks a lot like you. Blonde. Tall. And there's a particular phrase we've heard—something the killer said before one of the victims was murdered."

Nicholas feigned a look of surprise. "Oh, do tell. I'm dying to know."

Blackwood leaned forward, his voice lowering. "One of the witnesses, Ron, said he overheard the killer saying this: 'Of course I'm gonna kill you. What did you think? That I brought you here to watch a movie and eat popcorn?'"

The smirk on Nicholas's face twisted into a full grin, his eyes lighting up with amusement. He repeated the line back to them, almost mocking. "'Of course I'm gonna kill you. What did you think, that I brought you here to watch a movie and eat popcorn?'" He laughed, shaking his head. "That's not a very 'serial killer classic,' don't you think?"

Caldwell's fists clenched slightly, but she didn't speak. Blackwood pressed on, his voice tightening with frustration. "Nicholas, if it's you... all you have to do is confess. We can help you. We can get you out of this mess, but you need to be honest with us."

Nicholas's eyes darkened, but the grin stayed. He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think I'm doing all this? What, you think I'm running around killing people just for fun? And what, you two are gonna play hero and save me from myself? You don't know shit."

Caldwell took a step forward, her tone harder now. "Nicholas, we know what happened to your parents. We know what you've been through. But you don't have to do this. Whatever anger you're carrying—it doesn't have to ruin your life or anyone else's."

Nicholas's smile faded for a split second at the mention of his parents, but then it returned, more bitter this time. "Oh, that's what this is about? My parents?" He rolled his eyes. "You think because I lost them, I've gone off the deep end? Like I'm some tragic villain out for blood?" He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You really don't know me, do you?"

Blackwood's patience was wearing thin. "We're giving you a chance, Nicholas. This can end right here, right now. We can make this easier for you, but you have to come clean. If you've got something to do with these murders—"

"I don't know anything!" Nicholas snapped, cutting him off. His eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice cold now. "You're barking up the wrong tree. I've told you a hundred times—I'm not your guy. I'm done with all this interrogation shit."

Caldwell's jaw tightened, frustration creeping into her voice. "Nicholas, we're trying to help you. If it's you, just say it. You don't have to keep playing this game."

Nicholas stood abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He straightened his jacket and smirked down at them, completely unfazed by their efforts. "Game? The only game going on here is you two playing detective, trying to pin this on me because you can't figure out what the hell's happening." He laughed again, a dark sound that echoed in the small room. "But I'm done. Get someone else to harass. I'm done answering your stupid questions."

Before Blackwood or Caldwell could say anything else, Nicholas turned on his heel and strode toward the door. His arrogance filled the room, leaving a suffocating silence in his wake.

"Nicholas," Blackwood called after him, his voice firm. "If we find anything—anything—that links you to this, you won't be walking out next time."

Nicholas paused at the door, his hand on the handle. He glanced back at them with a grin that sent a chill down both detectives' spines. "Good luck with that," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But you're gonna be looking for a long time."

And with that, he walked out, the door closing softly behind him.

For a long moment, neither Blackwood nor Caldwell moved. They sat in the silence of the room, the tension wrapping around them like a noose. Caldwell was the first to speak, her voice low, almost a growl. "He's hiding something. I don't care how cocky he acts—there's something there. You can feel it."

Blackwood nodded slowly, still staring at the door Nicholas had just walked out of. His heart pounded in his chest, frustration gnawing at him. "Yeah," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. "But we've got nothing concrete. No proof. No confession. Just a feeling."

Caldwell's eyes darkened as she pushed off the wall, pacing the small room. "We're back to square one, but I can't shake the feeling... it's him. He's involved, somehow."

Blackwood sighed heavily, standing up and crossing the room to join her. "You're right. It feels like him. That cocky attitude, the way he laughed off the line Ron said he heard... it's too close."

"But he knows we can't hold him," Caldwell said bitterly. "Not yet, anyway."

Blackwood nodded, his jaw clenched. "He's playing us. And he's enjoying it."

They stood there in the quiet, the weight of failure pressing down on them. Blackwood clenched his fists, the sense of powerlessness settling in. They were circling around Nicholas, but without proof, they couldn't make a move.

"One way or another, we'll catch him," Caldwell muttered, her eyes hard. "Even if he thinks we won't."

But even as she said it, they both knew the case had taken another sharp turn. And they had no idea just how deep Nicholas's involvement went—or how dangerous the game had become.