Page 95 of Prohibited

Their eyes slid across the cell to meet each other, both of them perfectly still. Then, Ryan moved away from the bars and stood an arm’s length away from Alex, smoking his cigarette, standing perfectly straight.

A different cop, this one with a gold bar on the breast of his uniform stopped in front of the cell. Lieutenant. Two others stood behind him, one of them looking stony and the other one looking smug. Their superior, unlike the other two, was good looking and had an air of dignity that worried Ryan immediately. He stood staring at Ryan with a look of complete and intense loathing.

“Ryan Lockwood.” It wasn’t a question.

“Who’s asking?” Ryan said, returning the copper’s loathing in kind.

“Lieutenant Roberts,” the man said. Then, to the men behind him, “Open.” He stepped back while the two other coppers unlocked the cell. One of them came at Ryan with a pair of handcuffs.

Ryan threw his cigarette, and lowered both arms to hang at his side, hands open slightly. Tension ran through him, winding more and more tightly. The desire to fight warred ferociously with the rational part of him that understood that fighting would only worsen the situation. He took deep breaths in and out of his nose as the two coppers came into the cell. They approached him cautiously, a bull in a field. It was certain they could see the rage crackling in his eyes, in the very air around him. But when they came forward to take hold of him, he let them each take a hand and twist his arms roughly behind his back. The cuffs bit deeply into his wrists and were left so tightened that he had to grit his teeth against the pain.

Against his own will, he glanced at Alex who was watching with him a cold, remote look. Unreadable. Alex gave him a slight nod. Whatever that meant. Ryan’s heart fluttered as they dragged him from the cell. He looked away from Alex and did not look back.

Cold fury burned in his belly as they walked him briskly down a long corridor, lined with doors. They passed one or two other coppers on their way, who nodded at them and eyed Ryan with hostile curiosity. The lieutenant walked ahead of them, with a certain and steady gait.Spine straight. Maybe he fought in the war, maybe he didn’t. But whatever the case, they were on opposite sides now. They turned and walked down another corridor until they reached a door at the end. The lieutenant, he couldn’t help but notice, paused and glanced behind them. Then, he opened the door and stepped aside so that the two at each of Ryan’s elbows could steer him roughly down the stairs, an awkward maneuver with them going down sideways so each of them could keep a hold on his elbow.

It took every ounce of his self-control not to push the one in front of him down the stairs.

As they descended in the dimness below, the rank smell of mildew rose to his nostrils and a deep sense of dread began to trickle into his belly and along his neck.

The basement. Why were they taking him to the basement? He glanced up toward the top of the stairs, but as Roberts slammed the door behind them, he was swallowed up by the darkness. The sound of the click, a key in the lock. And then the sound of alternating foot falls as Roberts followed them down the steps. Only a dim glow at the foot of the stairs gave them the outlines of shapes in the darkness. An oil lamp, judging by the smell. And when they reached the bottom landing, they rounded a corner into a dark room. It was difficult to tell how large it was, because the glow from the lamp only bit so far into the utter darkness of the basement. But judging by the echoes the shuffling sound of their footsteps produced, it was large. Quite large. Within the halo of light there wasonly a table with the lamp and a chair with a coil of rope on the seat.

The dread suddenly filled him to the brim, eclipsing anything else. Sandy Barnes in the back room of the Crystal suddenly flashed into his mind. Crimson blood reeking of iron and life. Pathetic squeals and shrieks. The sound of flesh hitting the concrete floor as it parted from its owner.

The two cops forced him down into the chair and immediately went to work binding his feet to the legs and his torso to the back of it. The Lieutenant stood back, watching the whole scene with a cold, resolute expression. Ryan stared back at him, completely unwilling to be intimidated. When they were finished, they stepped away from Ryan and melted away into the darkness, standing on either side of the doorway. Just faint outlines and the glint of metal in the darkness.

Just him and the Lieutenant now. The man stood with his hat tucked under his arm, studying Ryan. Then he moved slowly, as if coming alive, and placed his hat on the small table near the oil lamp. He removed his heavy, loaded belt and handed it off to one of the officers in the shadows. Then he began to unbutton his jacket carefully, leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the copper finally asked.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Ryan said, voice warm with anger.

The copper laughed a little. Shrugged out of his jacket. Handed it to one of his toadies.

In his shirt sleeves and his suspenders, he began to roll up the sleeve of each arm to the elbow. All of it was engineered to increase Ryan’s anxiety, but he bolted his courage down and held onto it. No matter what happened now, he wasn’t going to scream, and he wasn’t going to talk.

“It’s a long list, really,” the Lieutenant said. He placed his hands in his pockets and stood looking at Ryan with just a touch of disgust. Anger. “Arson. Trafficking in illegal substances. Murder.” The Lieutenant came forward until his knees nearly touched Ryan’s. Then he put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, talking very softly. “But, to be honest, I don’t give a fuck about any of that. What I want from you right now is to tell me where Evelyn Colter is.”

A zap of surprise and fear went through him. Confusion. How the hell had they tied Evelyn Colter’s disappearance to him? Every possible scenario played out in his head while he sat staring at the Lieutenant. Who had betrayed him? While it was always a danger, it was also unthinkable.

“Who?” Ryan said in an impatient voice that he was confident sounded convincing.

“Oh, Lockwood.” Roberts sighed and stood. Then he walked around him trailing his hand across his shoulders. Ryan forced himself to relax, though he wanted to jerk away. “We needn’t complicate this matter. You can just tellme what you know. And then you can go back to your cell and await sentencing. All above board. No trouble. No… unpleasantness.”

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

A thought injected cold straight into his bones. The basement. The locked door. This copper obviously wasn’t above bending the rules. Ryan had been interrogated by the coppers before and this was not how it went.

This wasn’t going to be any old interrogation session. Roberts was about to do something he shouldn't and Ryan had no illusions around how illegal it might be making any difference whatsoever to Roberts.

“Her father has charged me with her recovery,” the Lieutenant went on. “And I have been strongly encouraged to use whatever means necessary in order to achieve that end.”

“You can keep asking,” Ryan said. “And I’ll keep answering: I don’t know who that is.”

“Except that you do, don’t you?” The Lieutenant was in front of him again, bending down again so they were eye to eye. The green of his irises looked tainted by the darkness in the room. Handsome face in an All-American sort of way. The sort of man who had a nice house, a green lawn with a white picket fence. A wife to put food on the table and warm his cock and birth his children. An upstanding citizen. A Boy Scout. The clean, tidy look about him made Ryan want to wrap his fingers around his neck and squeeze.

“Do what?” Ryan said.

“Lockwood,” the Lieutenant said. He huffed, a sound of irritation and amusement. “Don’t play stupid. You worked for her father. Over a decade ago. A gardener’s apprentice, weren’t you?”

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