A Dangerous Life (EDITING)

Chapter Five

I focus on Daniel's eyes. I watch every sparkle, every shift, every blink. Don't be dishonest with me. That's the last thing you want to do.

When I was dishonest with her, I would get punished. Good thing I was only dishonest with her once, before I got the hint. I was a quick learner with her... obviously.

"So, Daniel, was Faith your therapist? Officially? Not officially? More of like someone who gave you advice?" I question, keeping my focus on his eyes.

His eyebrows scrunch for a slight second. Perhaps even for less than a second. But that's what gives away the truth. He's concerned that we found this piece of information out.

"I don't know what you're even talking about." He replies, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about. We found that little love note with the burn marks. You confessed your undying love for her and referred to her as your therapist. So you better start talking." I reply, letting him know that I mean business.

I don't mean that in the way she means business.

"Fine. Fine. Sure, I was in love with her. I am in love with her. She is in love with me too. Well. At least she was" He replies, with tears swelling.

"Was she just a friend that listened, or was she really a registered therapist? Or are you just delusional?" I respond, watching the sweat drip from his brows.

"You think I'm the one that's delusional? Am I delusional? You cops are delusional. You're more delusional than my grandma." He spits.

"Answer the question, Mr.Luderock. I am not here to play games." I spit back.

It would be easy to take him out now. Just about two minutes of my bare hands around that neck, and he'd been gone for good. I could wrap my legs around his thighs, as I strangle him. So easy... So simple...

But then Faith wouldn't get justice.
And Faith deserves justice.

"Fine. Fine. Faith wasn't an official therapist, like not registered. To me, she was my therapist. She probably wouldn't say the same, but I believe with all my heart that she was my therapist." He replied, head hung low in shame. 

So she wasn't an officially registered therapist. I glance towards the glass in the interrogation room, signaling for someone to take that piece of evidence and to research what Faith's official occupation was. Was her professional occupation a waitress? Was the waitressing just a side job? I don't know how we haven't gathered that piece of information yet, but we need somebody to get on that.