Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 43 | No idea what they were dealing with

THE POLICE OFFICER LED James into a small office, the door closing behind them with a heavy thud. The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and dust, and the overhead fluorescent lights buzzed softly, casting a pale glow over the space. There was a round table in the center with a couple of chairs, and the officer gestured for James to sit down.

James obeyed without a word, his face a mask of calm indifference. The door creaked open again, and another officer entered the room, this one older, his face weathered with years of experience. His eyes were sharp, assessing, and they didn't leave James as he took his seat across from him.

"James, is it?" the older officer asked, flipping open a small notepad in front of him. His voice was gruff but measured, as if he was trying to put James at ease, though there was something probing behind his gaze.

"Yes," James replied, his tone steady, betraying nothing.

The officer paused for a moment, glancing at his partner before turning his attention back to James. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, just routine, about your whereabouts over the past few days."

James leaned back slightly in his chair, keeping his face neutral. "Okay."

The officer's pen hovered above the notepad. "Were you at the party last night? The one Trent attended?"

"I was," James said. "For a little while."

"For a little while," the officer echoed, jotting something down. "What time did you leave?"

James paused, as if trying to remember. He knew how to play this. A too-quick response could be suspicious. "Around midnight, I think," he said. "I wasn't feeling well, so I left early."

"Can anyone confirm that?" the officer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't really hang out with people at those things," James said, shrugging. "But I guess anyone who saw me leave could confirm it."

The officer studied James for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you know Trent well?"

James shook his head. "Not really. He was friends with William and the others. I never really talked to him much."

The younger officer leaned forward then, interjecting, "But you knew him well enough to have... problems, right?"

James blinked, his expression carefully blank. "Problems?"

"We've heard," the officer continued, his tone soft but persistent, "that you and Trent didn't exactly get along. There were... words exchanged. Some hostility."

James tilted his head slightly, pretending to think about it. "I wouldn't call it hostility. He didn't like me. That's all. But I didn't care much about that."

The officer's gaze sharpened. "Didn't care? You sure?"

James gave a slight smile, barely there, but it was enough to unnerve them. "Yeah, I'm sure. People like Trent—they don't matter much to me. I just... stay out of their way."

The older officer shifted in his seat, clearly not satisfied with the answer. "Where were you earlier that night before the party? Can you walk us through your evening?"

James mentally went over his alibi, keeping everything neat and aligned. He had prepared for this. He was ready. "I was at home after school. Worked on some homework. Had dinner. Then I went to the party, like I said. Stayed for a while, and then I left."

The officer's pen scratched against the paper, jotting everything down. "And you're sure no one can back that up?"

James leaned forward slightly, his eyes meeting the officer's. "I live with my mom. You can ask her. She'll tell you I left around the time I said."

The room fell silent for a moment as the officers exchanged glances, clearly trying to read him. There was a palpable tension in the air, a sense that they were trying to press him further, dig deeper.

The younger officer, perhaps sensing that James wasn't rattled by the questions, leaned in again, his voice dropping just a notch. "James, if you had a problem with Trent, now would be the time to tell us. If something happened at the party—"

"There wasn't a problem," James cut him off, his voice still calm, still measured. "Like I said, Trent and I didn't get along. But I didn't care about him. He wasn't worth my time."

The officer smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not worth your time, huh? But worth enough for you to know about his... habits. His friends."

James shrugged, playing dumb. "Everyone knows that. Trent and the others—they're loud. It's hard not to know their business."

The older officer sat back, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed James. His eyes, hard and calculating, didn't leave James' face. "You seem awfully calm about all of this, James."

James looked him straight in the eye, that same subtle, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The officer's expression flickered, something like frustration creeping into his features. "Two students are dead, James. That's why."

James' eyes didn't waver. "I didn't kill them."

"Didn't say you did," the officer replied, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. "We're just trying to understand your relationship with Trent. Maybe you had a falling out. Maybe things got... heated."

James kept his face neutral, his voice flat. "I didn't have a relationship with Trent."

The younger officer leaned forward again, clearly trying a different tactic. "James, if you're not telling us everything—if you're holding back—it's only going to look worse for you."

James looked at him, his expression blank. "I've told you everything. You're keeping me from class at this point."

The officers exchanged a glance, both clearly unsettled by how calm James remained under pressure. The older officer cleared his throat, clearly frustrated by how little progress they were making.

"I think we've asked enough for now," the older officer said, but his eyes lingered on James, as if trying to decipher a puzzle that wouldn't come together. "But James, if anything comes to mind—anything at all—you'll come to us, won't you?"

James nodded, his face impassive. "Sure."

Nope

The older officer gave a curt nod, then motioned toward the door. "You can go."

James stood up slowly, his movements measured, as though nothing in the world could rush him. As he reached for the door handle, the younger officer's voice followed him.

"Something about that kid doesn't sit right with me," the younger officer muttered under his breath, but not quiet enough for James to miss it.

The older officer let out a sigh, rubbing his temple. "Yeah. There's something... off. But we'll need more than a gut feeling. Let him go for now. We'll keep an eye on him."

James stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He kept walking, his pace unhurried, but inside, he could feel the thrill building, the electric pulse of control surging through his veins. He'd played them, every question answered without a slip. The mask had held, and they had no idea.

His heart pounded with exhilaration as he disappeared into the throng of students, the officers' voices fading behind him.

They had no idea what they were dealing with.