Mirror, Mirror on the Wall ✓

4 | Incriminations

For genieinabook, who has showered me with numerous votes and comments ever since she started reading. Thank you.

Chapter 4: Incriminations

Sergeant Clark watched silently amused as the detective verbally tortured and scared the hell out of Ross Sanders in the interrogation room.

'I'm telling you, officer. Whoever told you all this rubbish is framing me! I had nothing at all to do with this!' the tall man with sunburnt skin called Ross Sanders said.

'I give you zero points for that, Sanders. First of all, I'm a detective and secondly, all the evidence points against you. What do you have to say against that?'

'How do I tell you? I'm innocent. All this has nothing to do with me.'

'Is it?' Sanchez fished the plastic bag with the ring out of his pocket. 'So what do you have to say about this?'

Sanders' spectacled blue eyes widened in disbelief. He stammered, 'This—officer—how—lost—but how—'

'So it is yours, right?'

'Yes, but—how—lost—' Still he hadn't gotten over the shock. After moments of hesitation, he managed to speak a bit, 'I had lost it weeks ago. I-I don't know how it got there. Please believe me, officer!'

'Uh-huh. Mind telling us where have you hidden the gun?'

He was on the verge of tearing up. 'G-gun? I've got no gun. Did he tell you I have a gun? What a bunch of lies! Please believe me, I'm innocent!'

Sergeant Clark had to admit that if the man really was guilty (which he most probably was), he was playing innocent brilliantly.

'Well, you have nothing to prove that. Ross Sanders, you are under arrest until further investigation.'

Sanders gasped.

~

Clark handcuffed Sanders and led him out of the interrogation room into the cell.

'Man, you surely must have been in the theatre sometime. You nearly convinced me you are innocent. I must say, you act brilliantly.'

Sanders looked at him. Behind his black metal-rimmed glasses, his eyes were red as if he had been crying for hours, even though he had been arrested just two hours ago. His stubble, still black, was soaked. He looked just like a child inside a sturdy frame. What a crybaby, thought Clark.

'For chrissake, you don't cry after you commit a crime. You think of the consequences before you take the step. Plus, it isn't even a murder case or something. You'll be fine, this is just a felony.'

Sanders looked at him with downcast eyes, 'Officer, no one in my family has ever had a criminal record. I'm a poor guy, I've got to get a decent job to support my family. Even a misdemeanour will ruin my record. And this...' his voice trailed off. 'I have been framed. And I don't know how my mother is doing. You guys arrested me at my part-time workplace. She must be crying so much now. I don't even know the guy who cooked up this whole thing. I can't even...' It was as if he was searching for words but couldn't find them.

At that moment, Sergeant Clark knew something was wrong.