Caridad Pineiro - Darkness Calls

When he arrived, Diana was waiting by the elevator, her partner beside her. They were like the eternal yin and yang. Light and dark. Good and, well…still good but with a lot of other things thrown in that weren’t necessarily so straight. Things that roused something dark within him. He nodded and acknowledged their presence.

“Latimer. Nice to see you’re finally here. Where’s your Mr. Ruggiero?” Diana said icily, and beckoned him down the hall.

“I didn’t think his presence was demanded,” Ryder answered, sensing that her anger was simmering beneath the calm she was trying to present. “I have nothing to hide.” Well, at least, nothing pertinent to the investigation.

Diana shot him a glance that clearly said she thought otherwise and then opened the door to one of the rooms. Inside, two other men waited.

He walked in, and she quickly introduced Jesus Hernandez, the assistant director in charge, and a tall, very Irish-looking man by the name of Peter Daly, who was the lead detective from the NYPD homicide squad that was assisting with the case.

A moment later he was invited to sit and the interrogation began.

Ryder answered questions about his background—a fictional account of his life in New Orleans and elsewhere before he moved to New York. It was well rehearsed after years of practice. The narrative was one that had enough detail to satisfy but nothing that could be tangibly verified. No colleges attended or professional degrees earned despite the fact that at one time he had been a physician. Those details would only force him to create a tangle of lies that would trip him up and have the authorities wondering why he was being evasive.

Detective Daly seemed to notice the lack of detail, for on more than one occasion he jumped in to ask a question that might lead Ryder on a path to that tangle. Ryder deftly avoided those inquiries, but it was clear the detective was not happy.

Like Diana, this NYPD cop was not all that he seemed. Beneath the calm and observant exterior, there was a determined mind that would not be satisfied until he had the answers he wanted. Answers Ryder was not giving him.

As the three FBI representatives moved on with the questioning, the detective said nothing more. He just sat back and whittled away at the explanations Ryder gave. When talking about the club it was easier for Ryder to go with the full truth, for it was a real establishment with real people. Plus, he ran a clean business and no investigation, no matter how deep or invasive, would find otherwise.

His willingness to elaborate and cooperate seemed to mollify the investigators, although Diana and Detective Daly were not totally convinced of Ryder’s intentions. It made sense. His intentions had only a little something to do with finding the killer and a lot more to do with protecting himself and his way of life.

He was smooth, Diana thought, observing Ryder as he answered another question about his past even though a moment before they had been discussing the club’s bouncers and any possible altercations they might have had with the patrons.

Ryder leaned back in the chair and adopted a very casual, laid-back stance. If he was nervous, there wasn’t a thing to give it away. His pupils were wide and open. His facial muscles relaxed. “As I said before, Detective, my mama home-schooled me—”

“In your place in the bayou?” Daly finished, but Ryder just shook his head.

“You Northerners don’t seem to understand, we don’t all grow up in the swamps, Detective. As I said before, my family lived in a small place on the outskirts of the French Quarter. That’s in New Orleans, if you didn’t know,” he chastised, adding a slow drawl to his voice that made the city’s name sound like Nawlins. Again, she had to admire him. He was either telling the truth or he was an exceptionally good liar. And his drawl…it made her think of sultry Southern nights and…She stopped herself from going there and concentrated again on the interrogation.

“And your mother—” Daly began, but Ryder cut him off.

“My mother was a waitress in various establishments, but died when I had just turned thirteen. I ended up on the streets, living however I could. Moving around a bit until I decided to leave for other opportunities,” he replied, his voice hardening as if it was painful to recollect that part of his life.

She couldn’t picture him as a street urchin. He was polished in a way that came from breeding and not from trying to prove he had made it in the world. The clothing he wore spoke of a man with innate taste, from the soles of his Gucci-clad feet to the Jhane Barnes suit and what she was certain was a hand-tailored Egyptian cotton shirt. This was a man used to elegant things and yet…There was a hardness under that graceful facade that only came with seeing too much of life. She had that same harsh aspect deep inside herself and recognized a kindred spirit. Maybe that was why she was drawn to him.

As he finished his explanation and met her gaze, he gave her a chagrined look as if he realized that she saw through all the polish and shine. She started to smile back, then reined it in. She was supposed to be investigating, not commiserating.

After a few more questions, the ADIC took charge. “Mr. Latimer, we thank you for your cooperation and hope you will have time to assist Special Agent in Charge Reyes and her colleagues with whatever they may need at your club or—”

“I’d be delighted to show Ms. Reyes around tonight, if she wishes. We’re closed, and it would be the perfect opportunity for her to get a feel for the place. Plus, we can discuss how I can assist with the investigation.” He gave her a devastating smile that warmed her with its intensity.

It was that response that had her hesitating to go anywhere alone with him, but she nodded at her ADIC and Colleagues. “That would be acceptable, although Special Agent Harris and Detective Daly have other plans for tonight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ryder replied, although she sensed he was pleased. Did he think that by cutting her away from the others he might be able to gain some advantage? Maybe even charm his way out of any further role in the investigations? He’d be unpleasantly surprised to find otherwise. She intended to stick close…for business reasons only, she clarified to herself.

“Well, I think it’s time we all got moving,” she said, and rose.

She bid everyone in the room goodbye, and Ryder followed her out of the interrogation room and down to a smaller office at the end of the hall. Once inside, Diana slipped off her jacket and tossed it on the sofa near the door. She held out her hand, offering him the chair in front of her desk, and he sat, crossing one leg over the other and slouching down slightly.

He glanced around her office, his gaze sharp as if taking inventory and sizing her up. Diana wished her space was a trifle neater rather than boasting its usual clutter of files and papers. She refused to apologize for it, even though she detected condemnation.

“Comfortable?” she asked instead, slipping into her own chair, removing her holstered gun and locking it into her top desk drawer.

“No, but this will have to do, won’t it?” he challenged, finally vocalizing some of his displeasure over his involvement in the case.

Diana held back her comment, dug a fat manila file from a small pile on the side of her desk, and plopped it onto the desktop between them. Opening the folder, she rotated it so he could examine the contents as she began to fill him in on the background of the case. Of course, the folder was missing what few key pieces of information they had. Call it a test, she thought, wondering whether he would slip up and give away anything that might implicate him.