Page 78 of Peep

“Sure,” I croak. “We can go to the staff room.”

I lead the way, heart pummeling my ribs. I’m struggling to put one foot in front of the other. My legs feel like all the muscle and fat have been sucked from them, and I could collapse right here on the shiny, vinyl floor.

As we enter the clinical staffroom with its bright lights and plastic chairs, I hover, unsure if I should sit or make a run for it. The rich smell of the coffee pot lends me some comfort. I’m not in handcuffs yet, it’s ok.

“It’s alright, gentlemen; you can wait outside.”

One of the officers nods at the detective.

My stomach clenches at the thought of being in this enclosed space with this man in a position of power. The officers stand at the door, but keep it open, and my shoulders slightly uncurl.

“Please take a seat,” he insists like this is his office, and I’m a guest. His dominating presence is like a thousand tiny needles penetrating my skin. He has me by the balls, and he knows it. The irony.

I pull the chair out, wincing as the metal legs scrape across the floor. He remains standing, which only solidifies his dominance over me. I lace my hands in my lap, squeezing them tightly as a grounding technique.

“What’s this all about?” I somehow manage to ask in a level tone.

I can do this; I can lie to a detective.

“You might be familiar with a case we’ve been working on involving several local hospitals.”

“Erm, I’m not sure. Considering the nature of the things we deal with, the police are always in and out of here.”

He humorously scoffs. “You’re not wrong there. Let me be more specific. Several men have come forward in recent weeks, reporting that they’ve been kidnapped, drugged and operated on. We believe a medical professional has removed their testicles, but you probably knew that.” He says it with a lilt like it’s a punchline to a joke.

Mike’s eyes stay glued to me like he’s reading my facial features for even a minute reaction. I force a flat expression. He said several men, but only one came forward as far as I knew.

“Oh, yes, I heard. Not sure what that has to do with me, though.”

“Well, as you’re aware, we took your colleague Leo in for questioning after we discovered he’d withdrawn unaccounted-for drugs, but it turned out his alibis were solid on the nights of the incidents.”

My hands vibrate in my lap and my shirt collar feels tighter than ever. Swallowing roughly, I wait for him to continue his big spiel.

“So we did some more digging as detectives do.” He scoffs a laugh at himself, and it makes me want to kick him in the balls. “And well, it appears on the nights the drugs were withdrawn, you were on shift at York Hospital.”

He knows.

“I’m sure there were lots of people on shift on those nights," is all I can think to reply.

“This is true… The second victim that came forward said he remembered something very specific about his assailant.” The way that he keeps stopping and starting has my stomach curdling. Get to the fucking point.

“And what did he notice?” I force myself to ask.

More lengthy silence. He wants me to crack, confess it all—over my dead body.

“He said he woke up briefly, and specifically said the person who did this to him was scrubbed up and wearing a mask, but he could see that it was a Black male.”

The man from the first night at Emeralds. I thought he was too out of it to notice me—fuck.

I swallow hard, scrambling for a reply. “That sounds a lot like racial profiling, sir. How can the guy be sure if he was high on drugs?”

“It does, doesn’t it? Or perhaps it’s just facts.”

My eyes pinch, and anger builds in my core. He’s taunting me, waiting for me to slip up.

“Am I under arrest, or is that all?” I go to stand.

He steps into my space, blocking my exit route. “Easy now, we’re still talking.”

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