Page 41 of The Inmate
I don’t find his Boston accent even slightly endearing anymore.
I walk the last half a block to my house. Detective Santoro looks me up and down with his shrewd dark eyes. “Get in a nice run?”
“Yes…”
He squints up at the sky. “Nice weather for it. And it’s supposed to be a nice day when you’ve got that race on Saturday.”
Of course, he knows all about my agenda for the week. “It’s not exactly a race. It’s more like a fun run for charity.”
He nods like he couldn’t possibly care less. “Would you mind if we went inside?”
“Did you find Dawn yet?”
He doesn’t answer me but instead jerks his head in the direction of my front door. “I just have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”
I should agree. I have nothing to hide. Yet I find my jaw clenching. I didn’t do anything wrong, and it’s like this detective has it out for me. It’s notfair. “I’m afraid I’ve told you everything I know.”
“So it should be real quick then.”
Santoro’s black eyes are leveled at me, and it’s unnerving. I squirm in my sneakers, wishing I could hit the shower before having a conversation with him. I’ve got pit stains, after all. But it seems like I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“Fine,” I say. “But I have to get to work soon.”
“This won’t take long,” he says. “If you want, I’ll write you a note.”
I bristle at the idea of this man writing me a note, like I’m some teenager and he is my dad excusing me from school. I don’t dignify his offer with a response. Instead, I start up the walkway to my front door. I unlock the door and he comes in behind me.
Santoro lingers in my foyer. “Mind if we sit down?”
“Actually, I do mind.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Like I said, I don’t have a lot of time. So what do you need to know?”
He gives me a look like he is surprised by my nerve, but I don’t back down. I’m not going to let this detective push me around.
“So I just want to get more of a sense of your relationship with Dawn,” he says.
My right eyelid twitches. “I told you, we were coworkers. We were friendly, but not really friends. Is that all?”
“What do you mean by ‘friendly’?”
I stare at him. “I mean, we said hello to each other every day. I gave her a ride home once when she needed it. Occasionally we ate lunch together. But that’s about it.”
“Okay, I get it.” He nods. “And was there ever a situation where you fought with Dawn?”
“No,” I say firmly. “Never.”
“Did you ever make fun of her?”
“Make fun of her?” I repeat. “What am I—in grade school?”
“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “from what I hear, Dawn was kind of odd. When people are different, it might be natural to poke fun at them.”
“Well, I never did.”
“Never?”
“No!”
“So you never told anyone that you thought Dawn lost her virginity to a turtle?”
