Insane - Who Are You To Judge? (Gripping Psychological Thriller)

Chapter 21 - Harry

"You have the most beautiful eyes, you know that?" Leaning across the reception desk is a pristine, dark navy suit without even the slightest crease in the silk material. The deep, blood red tie matches the suit effortlessly. Occupying the impeccable attire is a clean-shaven, emerald-eyed figure. His golden locks are slicked back without a single strand out of place.

Karen collapses into herself and stares down with a shaky smile when she receives the compliment. "Oh, no...my eye...no, no...um," she stutters, unaware of how to handle such a comment.

Fortunately for her, it is obvious that this is not her admirer's first rodeo. He seems somewhat amused by her coyness and he only persists further.

"Oh, now, Karen, you can't tell me you haven't noticed how blue your eyes are?" The corners of his lips turn up. "My goodness, they are just mesmerising."

As if she were a deer caught in headlights, Karen freezes. When she finally manages to will the muscles of her face to reshape, she lets out a high-pitched giggle and slaps her hands over her face in an attempt to mask the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Do you know what I think?" He reaches towards her face slowly and gently coaxes her palms back down to her sides. He then places his hands on either side of her spectacles and Karen is frozen again, completely hypnotised by his touch.

As he pulls the glasses from her face, he gazes into her eyes and remains silent for a moment.

"There," he finally declares with a smirk, "just as I thought. You shouldn't hide those pearls behind such thick lenses."

Harry coughs sarcastically to break Karen out of her trance. He and James have been standing next to the desk for a minute or two now.

"Detective Sergeant Flynn!" Karen spurts out. "Sorry, right." She fiddles with stationery on the desk and jerks her head and eyes in all directions, trying to bring herself back into the present. "This is Mr Erikson," she states with a far more aristocratic tone than she actually has.

"Please, call me Jack." He shoots her a smoulder and she forces herself to refrain from turning giddy again.

"Mr Erikson," James says as he extends his hand, unsettled by the interaction he is currently witnessing. Mr Erikson grasps it. "I'm Detective Sergeant—"

"Flynn," Mr Erikson interjects, "Great to meet you. Please, call me Jack."

"Okay, Jack," James responds and gestures towards Harry, "this is Detective Constable Ellis." Harry bows his head towards Jack. "We will be interviewing you this afternoon. If you wouldn't mind just coming with us and we'll get to it."

The two detectives lead Jack down the corridor and into the same interview room that Mrs Lewis was in just last week.

Although unlike her, Jack doesn't seem affected by the eerie nature of the room.

As they open the door, Jack marches past them and sits in the single chair tucked neatly under the table without instruction.

His posture is formal and upright, with both his feet planted level on the concrete. He tilts his chin to be at just more than a ninety-degree angle, and looks down his nose at his hands which are clasped together gently on the steel.

James and Harry sit in the two chairs before him and mimic his stance.

"Mr Erikson," James begins, notepad in hand, "I have in my notes that you are the chief editor of Bennet and Roy Publishing House, is that right?" Once Jack confirms this, James continues, "and you are newly married, correct?"