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“And so were you until a few years back.”
“And I still would be if I’d stayed there.”
The cops shared a glance, and Dec’s patience snapped. We’d been here close to twenty hours, and I was barely able to keep my fucking eyes open.
“Are we done here?”
“Not quite.”
“But you’re going around in circles, and you’ve got nothing on him. Nothing but one message from a girl who he has no memory of.”
“Can I have a coffee or something?” Exhaustion hung on my every limb.
Diaz filled my glass with water and pushed it closer to me before sneering, “Here’s your or something. Enjoy.”
With my elbows back on the table, I rested on one hand and took a sip. My tired eyes blinked a series of slow blinks.
“Having no memory of it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“Cat…” The cop’s words reminded me of Cat.
“Remi, shake yourself.”
I followed Dec’s sharp order, the chair vibrating beneath me as I forced myself to come alive.
“Taken something?”
“He hasn’t. He just doesn’t sleep well. He’s tired, and this has gone on for far too long.”
The cops examined me for a little while, but both must have thought my competence levels didn’t match that of an addict and proceeded.
“Look, I didn’t kill my mother. The same as I don’t know your girl.”
“Taken from your after-party.” Brooks smiled sarcastically.
“I never went to any arranged after-parties. I always went back to my trailer after my shows.”
“Alone?”
“Most of the time. Sometimes, Sen would call in.”
“Sen?”
“You know who she fucking is.”
“We do. Colleagues have already spoken to Sen Chastity.”
Dec managed to keep a straight face over the mention of her name.
“And she confirmed what you just said. She never attended any after-parties associated with you, and she and you would often hang out alone in your trailer.”
“So, again, why are we still here?”
I waited for the cops to answer Dec, tiredness creeping in again and wrapping around me like a blanket that wanted to tuck me into bed.
“A fourteen-year-old girl was found hanging from a bridge, near to where he’ll perform tomorrow night, with a handwrit—”
I pushed tiredness aside, forcing myself to cut him off. “She wouldn’t have been at one of my shows. There was an age limit. No person under eighteen without a guardian. No person under sixteen at all. I haven’t performed in eight years. You can double-check that, too. That kid would have been eight at my last show, and there is no way an eight-year-old was at one of my gigs.”
