Complicated

Chapter Thirty Seven: Clowns

So tonight, I'm gonna find a way to make it without you
Tonight I'm gonna find a way to make it without you
I'm gonna hold on to the times that we had tonight
I'm gonna find a way to make it without you

Alicia Keys – Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart

The kid was high, Flack had no doubt about that as he reviewed the other man seated across from him with a coldness that came from the depths of his soul. He was revolted at the sight of the perp in front of him. It took a twisted son of a bitch to hack up four people with the kind of indifference he was seeing right now. It was cases like this that made him angry, people under the influence of narcotics blamed the drugs for their actions or in some cases the booze but the truth was the impulse was there the whole entire time if they looked hard enough.

James Roberts was naked from the waist up, the only item of clothing he appeared to be wearing was a pair of dark denim jeans. No socks or shoes. There was a bloody smear across his naked chest shaped like a hand print. There was more on the underside of his chin, and what looked like a finger print just over his left eyebrow. His dark eyes were wide and red rimmed, his pupils were dilated almost swallowing up the hazel colouring. Despite the fact he was handcuffed to the bars of a mental chair James had take it upon himself to rock back and forth, causing a scraping sound to pierce through Flack's brain every time the chair jerked forward.

Flack was sitting on a chair he had turned the opposite way around his muscular thighs straddling it as he leaned his forearms on the frame. His police badge was dangling around his neck from a silver chain over the black button up shirt he was wearing. The silver wedding band glistened proudly on his finger.

"Clowns." Flack snarled indignant "That's your official story? Clowns?"

Jame's eyes slide sidelong so he was focused on Flack, his voice lowering as if he was telling the other man something confidential.

"They were trying to kill me." James whispered, his head lolling forward.

"Oh." Flack mimicked, raising his hands in mock understanding."So they were the Homicidal on the inside kinda clowns?"

Flack rose to his feet as his irritation at the situation broadened. He couldn't believe the sheer audacity of this kid. Four people had been viciously murdered and he was sitting there chattering on about killer clowns.

"Hold on a second while I put out an APB for two guys with fizzy pink hair and big red noses." he snapped, gesturing at his face.

"They stuck a gun in my mouth." James stuttered, screwing his eyes tightly shut as he spoke.

"This gun?" Flack requested, picking up the evidence bag containing the water pistol and holding it up James to see before slamming it back down on the table in frustration. "This is a water gun filled with tequila. Now what do you have to say about that?"

Jame's mouth flapped open and closed but no words were emitted. He was rocking harder now, a sheen of sweat was breaking out across his body, glistening from the dim overhead light in the interrogation room.

"I don't know." James mumbled. "I just don't know. That's the last thing that I remember."

"What drugs are you on James? What did you take?" Flack asked severely, his temper reaching boiling point.

The interrogation was as good as wasted. There was no point interviewing this kid when he was trashed like this. His answers were incoherent and fabricated from hallucinations due to whatever narcotics were running rampant through his system. LSD was Flack's guess as he watched the other man literally sweat.

"I didn't take anything." James protested, his eyes lowered sensing Flack's imminent explosion.

"Enough with the lying." Flack shouted, using his hand to cut the other man off. "Enough!"

"We have you drivers licence James." Flack informed him, jabbing his finger at the younger man. "We know that your were up there celebrating your twenty first birthday with your friends. Things got out of control so what happened?"

Despite his wrestling emotions, his words were controlled and concise. It was horrific to see the kind of blood shed that had gone on in that hotel room. The blood splashed up the walls, the twisted silent scream on the features of one of the girls as her guts hung out of her stomach. To commit that kind of destructive act on your friends... Something must have made this kid snap.

There had to be a logical reason for all of this but as far as Flack could see there wasn't one. This kid had tripped out on some LSD and had gone axe happy on all of his friends before turning himself loose onto the streets of New York.

"I remember..." James trailed off as he rose his head. His blood shot eyes rolled upwards reminded Flack of Jack Nicholson in The Shining as he grinned that crooked smile.

It was unsettling to be on the receiving end of that look. There was no emotion behind it just a deep seated indifference. Flack placed his palms flat on the table as leaned forward staring intently into the other man's eyes as he awaited his answer.

"I was underwater." James uttered as if in memory.

His eyes began to dart around the room, his head tilting towards the light bulb swinging above them as he spoke. Flack drew back, clenching his jaw and turning away from the other man pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Swimming with the sea horses and the starfish and..." James stumbled over the words. "Ask Mark."

His eyes were shining, a manic smirk was etched into his features as Flack turned around to face him, hands resting upon his hips.

"Mark's dead." Flack glowered as he spread out the photographs from the manilla file out in front of James.

It was a grotesque freak show of images from the crime scene back at the Hotel Tribeca, there were close up of wounds, of the victims faces locked in their final moments of death.

"They're all dead James because you hacked your friends to death." Flack said solemnly as he placed his hands back down on the table. "Now tell me why!"

"I'm cold." James whimpered abruptly, his chin trembling as he stared back at Flack. "It's really cold in here."

Flack shook his head in disgust as he gathered up the photographs and slipped them back into the manilla folder. There was no use continuing with this line of questioning, James Roberts barely had any idea what was going on around him, let alone a comprehension of the trouble he was in.

Flack rubbed a hand over his tired features as he tucked the manilla folder underneath his arm. Depending on the dosage James had received he could be like this for the next twelve hours.

Flack pulled open the door and exited the interrogation room before checking his watch. His shift had ended two hours ago and he was beyond exhausted. He handed the file off to Angell so she could take a crack at their suspect before pulling on his black leather jacket and withdrawing his phone from the interior pocket. He had a text from Grace, a ghost of a smile peaked across his lips as he read her simple statement.

Missed you last night, x.

Flack's thumb clicked the reply button on the plastic keypad before he typed out his own message.

Gonna miss you tonight doll.

He hit send, slipping his phone back into pocket before heading home to his empty bed for the third night in a row.