4:30PM Jupiter, NC
"Are the handcuffs really necessary? I'm not a criminal I'm poor."
"Why don't we save the Jibber-Jabber for interrogation eh?"
"Wait I'm being interrogated? For what!"
Toby Bryson had risen to his feet. His hands gripped the steel bars, his eyes wide and confused.
"I'll take it from here Shane. Thanks for babysitting."
Detective Burnaham seemed to appear from the shadows.
"Miss me?"
Detective Burnaham bent down placing his hands on his knees.
Toby let out a sarcastic laugh as Detective Burnaham unlocked his cell and demanded he follow him to a small room towards the back of the police station.
"Am I allowed to ask what's going on here?"
Toby struggled to keep up with Detective Burnaham who appeared to be in better shape than he'd ever be. The detective carried a notepad and was flipping and scanning every page with great precision.
The room was dusty and claustrophobic. Toby sat across from Detective Burnaham on a creaky folding chair.
"I bet you're why you're here Mr. Bryson."
"So I forgot to pay a few tickets, big whoop!"
"Mr. Bryson not only did you "forget" to pay "several" parking tickets, but you also have a warrant out for your arrest and there's an ongoing murder investigation with your name written all over it. So let's just cut to the chase. Where were you on the night of 11 October?
"I was uhhh.. working. NO. I was babysitting for the family a mile up the road from my house."
"Which one is it Bryson. Were you working or babysitting."
"I was babysitting...Sir?"
"Babysitting eh? Where?
"I told you. I was babysitting for a family up the road. Can you just tell me what's going on?"
Detective Burnaham
YOU ARE READING
Who Killed Rosalie Gunther
TerrorAlice Hartley is plagued by vivid dreams following the ruthless murder of her best friend Rosalie Gunther.
