Page 126 of Thief of Night
“Put your hands on your head.”
She did, fingers sinking through her short hair as she tried to think if there was anything it would be bad to find in the car. On her.
Blood, mostly.
Officers were getting out of vehicles, shouting instructions. She felt her wrists jerked behind her, cuffs cold against her skin.
“Are you Charlotte Hall?” one of them was shouting.
“I didn’t steal the car!” she insisted.
The cop frowned at her in puzzlement. “What car?”
“This car,” Charlie said, equally confused. “I didn’t steal it.”
“Lady,” he said. “You’ve got bigger problems than that. The detectives want to talk to you about murder.”
The detectives kept Charlie waiting in a room for the better part of an hour. She stared at the chipboard table with pieces dug out of it. She watched a spider build a web in a corner of the room.
Finally, the door opened. In strode a middle-aged woman with two manila file folders under her arm. A younger male colleague with short, curly hair followed.
“Charlotte Hall?” the woman asked, although, obviously, she knew.
Charlie nodded. “I prefer Charlie.”
“I’m Detective Vitolo and this is Detective Rudden. We have some questions for you,” Detective Vitolo said.
Like any career criminal, Charlie knew better than to agree to talking right off the bat. “Can I leave?”
“Technically we can hold you for twenty-four hours before charging you,” Detective Vitolo said. “So, no.”
“Charging me with what?”
Detective Vitolo opened the first manila folder and set out three pictures. The first was Charlie entering the abandoned mill building. The second was Charlie in the Walgreens with blood in her hair. The third was the body of the drifter.
“You want to tell us what happened here?” asked Detective Rudden.
All the breath left Charlie’s body. The triptych of photographs told a story that Charlie had no idea how to deny.
“I saw the body,” Charlie admitted. “But he was already dead.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” asked Detective Rudden.
There Charlie was on firmer ground. “I didn’t want to wind up here.”
“Tell me about Solaluna,” said Detective Vitolo.
“There was a conference of rich seekers held there recently,” Charlie said.
“Four guests died,” said Detective Vitolo.
Charlie shook her head. “You know I wasn’t responsible for any of that. You must have eyewitness accounts from the kind of people that cops actually listen to.”
Detective Vitolo frowned.
“Some of those accounts link you with the killer.” Detective Rudden flipped a few papers, as though trying to find the relevant testimonies.
Charlie slumped back in her chair. “Bullshit.”
