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James smiled and stuck out his hand. He looked puzzled. Slightly concerned. And as handsome as ever.
Detective Domanska took his hand. “Is there an office where I can ask you a few questions?” she asked. “It’ll just take a few minutes.”
He winked at the receptionist then waved Domanska toward a conference room a few yards away. “No problem, am I in trouble or something?”
I flew at him, knowing I couldn’t hurt him any more than the gentle breeze coming from the air conditioning vent above our heads. I couldn’t just stand there, though.
I clawed and hit and fought like I wanted to before.
And, like before, I accomplished nothing—aside from the erratic flickering of the fluorescent lights in the conference room.
I still couldn’t believe it was him.
We’d found the needle, after all.
But he didn’t look worried.
Detective Domanska started out with the easy questions. Where had he been on the night of Friday, June 14th?
He furrowed his brow and pretended to think. “I really don’t know.” He had the balls to chuckle. “That’s so long ago, I’m sorry—did something happen? I’d have to check back through my phone or ask my wife. She’d know.”
He had a wife. It didn’t surprise me, exactly. I had no illusions about the kind of human being he was. It just added a new layer of horror. I tried to imagine her. What she looked like. How she had married this monster. Whether she had any kind of inkling of who he was. Whether she was the woman who had called with the anonymous tip.
Detective Domanska nodded. Then she showed him the profile photo the newspaper had run. His profile photo. “Is this you?” she asked him casually.
He took the paper and studied the image. “I can definitely see the resemblance, but no, that’s not me. But I saw this in the news yesterday, isn’t that the guy they’re looking for?”
The detective studied his eyes. I studied her eyes. Could she tell he was lying? Would I have been able to tell he was lying if I were in her shoes? I remembered the taped-up sign I’d seen in the bathroom at Gracie’s Spot. On a date that isn’t going well? Ask for Andrea at the bar. I thought of the confidence with which I had ignored that sign and walked back out to my tainted drink and my soon-be-murderer, imagining that this was the start of something beautiful.
Then I remembered the girl with the messy bun. The one who had stopped to take a photo of my bleached shoe on the side of the dirt road. I remembered the forest ranger who had called Detective Domanska.
I leaned in as close as I could to her ear, watching the fluorescent lights continue to flicker as my frustration built. “He’s lying,” I told her. “It’s him. He’s the one who killed me. Don’t believe him.”
Domanska’s expression didn’t change. I’d learned that her poker face was something to be reckoned with. It might mean that she believed him. Or it might mean that she was playing it cool. There was really no way to tell. She ignored his question and asked, “Have you ever been to Gracie’s Spot?”
He looked thoughtful again. Then he finally said, “Yeah. I think I have. It’s not too far from here.”
Domanska nodded. “Were you there on the night of June 14th?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. But like I said, I’d have to ask my wife. My brain is like a sieve, I can’t even remember what I ate for lunch yesterday.” He laughed. “I’m getting ready to move in a couple weeks. This is actually my last day here. You’re lucky you caught me.”
His eyes crinkled up at the corners. Lucky you caught me. He was making a joke.
Domanska’s expression stayed impassive. “Good to know. I’ll need your new address, then. In case I have more questions.” Her jaw tightened just a little. She wasn’t buying it. I cheered. The lights overhead continued to flicker like candles.
Domanska placed the newspaper article on the table. “To answer your question, yes. I’m investigating this case.” She tapped on my photo. “Do you recognize her?”
He made that stupid, pretend-thoughtful face again. “No, but I recognize the photo from the article I read. Scary stuff.”
I leaned in closer to her ear again. “Keep going. Ask him about the waitress. She’d remember him.”
To my shock and delight, she did.
“There was a waitress at Gracie’s who remembers a man with Meghan that night. She gave us a pretty good description of him. What would happen if I put you in a lineup in front of her?”
The air in the room suddenly felt tense and charged. Something in his eyes went dark. “Excuse me?” He made a show of shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That photo is blurry as crap. I don’t want to be rude, and I hope you find the jerk who did this, but do I need a lawyer or something here? I don’t want to end up like that guy on the Netflix documentary.”
Domanska didn’t budge. “Could you answer the question, please?”
