Page 81 of Innocent Intent

“We can’t just do that shit here?”

“Could have, but now you’ve pissed me off, so the offer no longer stands. Station. Move. Now.”

“How long you gonna make him wait?” Captain Jones asked as he and Davis stood outside the one-way mirror, watching Clark shift uncomfortably. Every so often, his head would turn toward the door. His body language was tense, and his constant fidgeting expressed his nervousness.

“Not much longer. I’m about to go in now. The longer I make him wait, the more cooperative I know he’ll be, hoping to get this over with so he can go home.”

“Is he going home?”

“Not sure, but my gut tells me he might be able to tell me something useful. He’s not the one who killed Williams. If he had anything to do with it, I won’t credit him being the one who actually pulled the trigger.”

“You and your damn gut. You better hope it’s right. In a way, I wish it wasn’t. I’d love to throw some cuffs on that guy and mark this case officially closed.”

Not happening.

He’s not our guy.

“Maybe I’m wrong. Not likely, but if it makes you feel better to wish I was . . .” Davis smiled arrogantly.

“Right,” Captain murmured as Davis left him there, heading toward the door to the interrogation room.

He entered and bypassed the table, electing to lean against the wall and stare at Clark. He watched him with a trained focus for a long moment in silence. Just staring. He wanted him to be as uncomfortable as possible, and it worked.

“I thought you brought me here to ask questions, not sit on my ass all day staring at the walls. I got shit to do.”

Davis smirked and nodded. “What’s your relationship to Tia?”

“We don’t have one.”

“Humor me, and let me determine how to classify the two of you.”

Clark shrugged. “We met. We had sex a few times. She ended things.”

“That’s all?”

“What else is there? I’m not the commitment kind of guy. We had a little fun. The arrangement worked out for both of us.”

Davis nodded. “You seemed annoyed that she ended things.”

“Nah. Not really.”

“What do you do for a living, Benji?” Davis got the intended result when Clark scowled at the nickname.

“Why?”

“Because I fucking asked. You want to go home? Answer the questions and stop asking them.”

“Maybe I’ll ask for a lawyer.”

Davis smirked. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Don’t know yet. Do I need to?”

“That’s not for me to say. If you are, however, be specific. If that’s what you want, you’re more than welcome to one, but then I reserve the right to treat you like a suspect and not just someone who willingly cooperates by answering a few questions.”

“Suspect for what?”

“Murder.”

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