TITLE:FAYETTEVILLE
***********************************
**********************************
***********************************
***********************************
Derrick's foot was bouncing on the concrete
floor. The silver table was cold and let the
bright light above it bounce into his eyes. The
mirror on the wall in front of him was
massive, covering almost the entire wall. His
chair was uncomfortable and made his butt
hurt. He looked at the heavy metal door,
waiting for someone to walk in and sit in
front of him.
He ran his hands through his hair the best
he could with them latched together by
handcuffs. He let them drop onto the table.
Clink . The handcuffs were heavy, and so was
his situation he was in.
How did this happen... how did it get so
bad... he thought.
The heavy door squealed on the floor like
nails on a chalkboard. Sheriff Mullins knew it
made that sound, and he did it on purpose.
He stepped into the room just enough for the
door to slam behind him. He stared at Derrick
with disappointment. He had so much he
wanted to say to the boy that was doing those
horrible things to his girlfriend. But as
sheriff, he couldn't let his personal feelings
get in the way. He never did, but with a
murder case cutting deep into the stress of
the entire police force and the town, Derrick
just might get what he deserves.
Derrick opened his hands and slightly shook
his head at the sheriff; he was trying to
prompt him into breaking the silence. Sheriff
Mullins moved over to the table and sat
down, letting the leather in his boots squeak
on the floor. Their eyes met as much as they
could. Sheriff Mullins was tall and buff, and
Derrick's teenaged-muscle was nothing in
comparison.
"Was it something she said?" he asked. His
deep voice carried between the concrete
walls.
"What are you talking about?" Derrick
mumbled.
"Why were you on top of her in the yard?"
"I don't know. She was disrespecting me."
"And that's enough to do what to her? What
were your intentions, son?"
"My intentions?"
"What was your goal?... What were you trying
to do?"
"Let me guess, you think I was going to try to
kill her. Are you kidding me?" Derrick
dropped his hands into his lap.
He let the silence linger in the room for a
moment... "We've got a missing girl that's
probably dead. And you're fighting your
girlfriend in your yard... " Sheriff Mullins
looked back at the mirror to signal the people
behind the glass. "Genni is missing and
everyone is upset. But listen, son, I think she
might not be with us anymore. The scene
looked pretty violent... did you know she was
hit with a crowbar?"
"A crowbar?" Derrick didn't look up. He kept
shaking his head, "No."
Sheriff Mullins rose his hand to let a cop
walk in holding a crowbar in a plastic bag.
She dropped the heavy weapon onto the
table. It was heavy, and the drop was louder
than Derrick was expecting; it made him
jump. He started rubbing his neck with his
restrained hands.
"I've never seen this," Derrick said.
"Why did we find it in your car?"
Derrick's eyes shot open, finally looking back
up at the sheriff. "What!? This is not mine!"
his voice was beginning to shake.
"The blood on this crowbar has three things
on it... bleach, deer's blood, and Genni's
blood. Son, all of those things were at the
crime scene. Do you hear what I'm saying?"
He leaned in over the table towards Derrick,
"This crowbar was at the crime scene and
probably was used to kill Genni... and we
found it in your car."
Derrick dropped his head, "I want a lawyer
and my phone call."
"I figured so," Sheriff Mullins stood up,
pushed his chair back to the table and left
the interrogation room. The woman that
brought in the crowbar was still behind the
glass watching him. Sheriff Mullins stood
next to her looking at Derrick.
"Did he do it?" she asked him.
"I don't know yet..." he paused. "I want to talk
to the kids that brought us the crowbar first."
