Chris Redding - Corpse Whisperer

He had and now he wished he hadn’t. He needed to believe her, but the cop part of him knew he would talk to this Jeff guy. He took the number, then stuffed it into his shirt. “None of your business.”

“My cell number is on there, too. Call me if you want to know the real story.”

“How come all interrogations rooms look the same?” Grace said to the two-way mirror at one end of the drab room.

No pictures hung on the gray-green walls. The table was functional and the chair she sat in uncomfortable. Her stomach rumbled from hunger and her bladder screamed to be emptied. Three cups of coffee had settled there the moment she entered this room.

No one had come to talk to her, letting her stew. She knew the tactic. The cops in the last town had done the same.

The door opposite the mirror opened and two detectives entered the room. She braced herself even though she was innocent. Would they ferret out her secret?

She wasn’t a murderer, but a freak. And time was getting short. Tomorrow was her birthday. She had to touch Dolores soon.

The taller man sat across from her, his dark brown eyes boring a hole through her. Detective Malek he said his name was. His large head sported more hair than she’d ever seen on one human being. Kept short, she still couldn’t see his scalp or his forehead.

“We’re recording this.”

“Fine.”

She hoped Zach had called Mark. A lawyer should be on the way.

“Do you want a lawyer present?”

“Not yet.”

“What brought you to Dolores Holten’s house last night?”

“I was out for run and happened to go by her house when I heard a scream.”

“You happened by her house.” He looked over his shoulder at the other detective. “Is that your usual route?”

“I don’t have a usual route.”

“How many miles do you run?” He leaned towards her as if they were just two people talking in a coffee shop.

“Between three and six.”

“And how far is Miss Holten’s house from your apartment?”

“I don’t know. Besides I wasn’t at my apartment. It burned down.”

“Ah, yes, you’ve had a string of bad luck this week. So where did you run from?”

“The Hilton Garden Hotel.”

“Nice place. I would think that would be tough to afford on a paramedics salary.”

Grace shrugged. “No comment.”

“No comment? I’m not a reporter, Miss Harmony and this isn’t a game.”

His voice rose an octave, but she refused to get riled. They had no evidence. “Can I go now?”

“You in a hurry?”

“You haven’t booked me. Do it or let me go.”

“Have you been here before? Oh, that’s right. I talked to the Johnsonville PD this morning. You have been brought in for questioning there. They’d like to talk to you, too.”

A chill snaked up her spine. She’d hoped she had put that incident behind her. She’d moved because they couldn’t keep her in town. She’d run away, but not illegally.

She rose. “Unless you’re booking me, I’m leaving.”

“Sit down Miss Harmony.”

“No, I’m going.”

The detective by the door didn’t move, just stared at her as if there was no way she could get past him. She couldn’t, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down in this situation.

She whirled towards the detective at the table saying the one thing that would end the interrogation. “I want a lawyer.”

Zach called the number and had a lawyer on the way for Grace. Jeff Becker’s number stared at him accusingly from his desk blotter. His natural curiosity got the better of him and he punched the numbers into the telephone.

A young man answered on the second ring.

“This is Detective Zach Holten of the Centre County Prosecutor’s Office. I’d like to talk to you about Grace Harmony.”

“That bitch?”

“I’m sensing some hostility.”

“She killed my mother and got away with it. The stupid cops wouldn’t keep her in jail and now she’s free.”

“Why do you think she killed your mother?”

“Because she kept telling me that someone was going to kill her and then someone did. How else could she know if she didn’t kill her?”

“Your mother was bludgeoned?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice cracking.

“You think Grace, er Miss Harmony, is capable of that?”

“I can’t find any other explanation.”

Zach took a stab in the dark. “Were you lovers?”

“Yes.”

That was the guy’s motive for hating Grace. He thinks she befriended him to get to his mother. “Did you break up with her?”

“How could I not? I couldn’t be with someone who killed my mother.”

This guy was still angry. “Did she tell you she didn’t kill your mother?”

“Yes.”

If they’d been lovers, why didn’t he trust her? “Why didn’t you believe her?”

Then why didn’t he, himself, trust Grace either?

“Because she knew it would happen.”

“You don’t think there might have been another way for her to know?”

“Like what?”

“Like she’s psychic?”

A disgruntled laugh erupted from the phone. “You aren’t buying that story are you?”

Zach was trying. Even though the words sounded absurd to him. Oh, he knew psychics, just none that could go back in time. He was a stuck in an episode of Twilight Zone. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Becker.”

“Don’t get involved with her. She’s poison.”

Too late, thought Zach.

Mark’s lawyer was coming from Newark, so Grace had to wait, but the detectives let her stay in the interrogation room. Otherwise she would have walked out. And they’d let her go the bathroom.

She wondered where Zach was. Probably mourning his ex-wife. Would she get into see Dolores before it was too late.

Never before had she ever wanted to rewind. Her life was in a shambles and she had to work tonight. Would the lawyer get there in time?

Maybe she should just a walk out.

Then the door opened and Zach walked through looking like he’d lost his best friend.

Her heart leapt at the sight of him, but she didn’t move from her spot. Pulling out the chair across from her he sighed before setting his lanky frame onto the unpadded seat.

“Thanks for calling Mark.”

“I think he’s on his way here.”

“He should be in California.”

“Didn’t sound that way.” He raked a hand through his hair. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine since I didn’t do anything. You believe me.”

“I want to. I don’t believe you would have any reason to kill Dolores.”

His lack of faith in her cut, but he didn’t get to know her well enough this time to trust her. “I think I know what the problem is.”

“What?”

“Each time I’ve rewound, things have been different.”

“Okay.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Just listen for a minute,” she said, sensing his distrust.

“Go ahead.”

She motioned to the mirror. “Is there anyone in that room?”

He moved towards a switch on the wall then flicked it. “No one can hear us.”

“Someone is doing things differently every time.”

“Do you realize how nuts this sounds?”

Her eyes widened. She pulled her hair away from her face. “Zach, I thought you believed me.”

He looked at the table his hands raking through his hair. “I want to, Grace, but I can’t.”

She reached out to him, but stopped before she actually made contact. “What can I do to prove to you?”

“I’m not sure you can.”

Her arms crossed. “So you’ve been humoring me all along?”

He frowned at the floor, but didn’t speak. Her heart pumped, but was heavier in her chest.