Page 80 of Peep
Someone aggressively knocks on the front door, making me flinch. For a moment, I wonder if it’s Jahmar; he’d use a key, though. Another authoritative knock has my insides clenching. It’s the kind of knock that only people in a position of power can achieve.
“Mr Erikson, it’s the police. Open up.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, straightening myself out before approaching the door. I check my reflection in the fridge, and I’m about ten shades paler than usual. I force myself to take in a calming breath before exhaling shakily.
I can do this.
Flinging the door open with more force than necessary, I internally cringe.
“Hello, is everything alright?”
“Good afternoon. Mr Erikson, right?”
“That’s me.” I try to shove on a smile, but it feels wonky on my face.
“Great. My name is Mike Dixon. I work for the West Yorkshire Police. I wanted to ask you a few questions about a case I’m working on. Would you mind if I came in?”
“Sure, of course. Erm, this is my boyfriend’s place, he isn’t here at the moment. Did you need to speak to him? I mean, I could try calling, but he’s probably working. He’s a doctor, actually. Tough work that,” I ramble as heat climbs up the back of my neck.
I guess I can’t do this.
“You seem a little tense, Mr Erikson. Are you alright?”
“I’m fiiine,” I drawl in a high-pitched voice that would give Ross from friends a run for his money.
The detective raises an eyebrow at my odd behaviour.
“Sorry, it’s not every day a detective turns up at your front door.”
“Of course, well, I just have a few questions about Jahmar’s whereabouts on a couple of nights recently; nothing to worry about.” He softens his tone, but it’s too late. Suspicion radiates off him in buckets. He wants to create a false sense of security so my guard is down. I’ve watched enough CSI to know when I’m being led into a lion’s den.
“So, can I come in?”
“Fuck, yes, sorry.” I wince at my language, stepping aside to let him pass.
He eyes the place critically like he’s looking for clues; he won’t find any. Jahmar and I made sure to clear out anything that could incriminate us, including that huge trunk.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask, swallowing the dryness in my throat. I could probably do with wetting my whistle, preferably with something strong.
“I’m good, thank you. Would you like to take a seat?”
I nod, plonking myself on one of the mishmash dining room chairs. I don’t fancy sitting on the sofa next to him, especially knowing all the filthy things Jahmar and I have done on it. I don’t need this detective tainting that for me.
“Ok, Anders, I’ll cut to the chase. You don’t mind me calling you Anders?”
“It’s fine,” I grunt. I’d rather my name not be on his lips right before he destroys my life and the only chance I have of happiness.
“We have reason to believe that your boyfriend is involved in some serious offences, so we want to get to the bottom of it and figure out his whereabouts during these incidents.”
“Erm, ok, what kind of offences?” I ask because I’m sure that’s what a normal boyfriend would do if a detective told them that. Mission Play Dumb is in full force.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you right now.”
“Ok, I understand. So, what do you want to know?”
“On September twenty-sixth and October twelfth, where were you?”
I ponder for a moment to make it convincing. “Can I check my calendar? I was probably here with Jay or working downstairs.”
