Page 18 of Wicked Succubus
“I uh . . .” Her eyes wander to the crowd of officers as if she just realized we have an audience. “Right before we left the club, we were approached.” She stares at the ground, her expression turning pensive.
“Do you remember if it was a group of people or just one person?”
Trisha’s eyes flick over to Agent Cooper as she answers. “It was only one person.” Trisha shakes her head like she’s trying to clear the fog in her mind.
Agent Cooper’s body tenses, hands clenching briefly into fists. He hasn’t found a lead, and it’s really getting to him. “What did this person look like?” his voice comes out tight, anticipation evident in each syllable.
Trisha pauses with furrowed brows. After one long minute of silence, she finally says, “I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”
Agent Cooper presses his lips together, the muscle in his jaw flexing with frustration. Around us, the other agents let out audible sighs, shoulders slumping in disappointment. They’d hoped she’d have the answers they were looking for.
I want to find my mother’s killer just as badly as they do. But I want to find this person first. I’m going to make my mother’s killer suffer.
“Why did you call this woman the killer?” Cooper asks sharply, the intensity in his gaze betraying his neutral tone. He’s like a dog with a bone, refusing to let it go.
I want to know the answer, too. Compelled by burning curiosity, I find myself leaning forward, muscles tensing as I’m ready to walk down the steps and get a better vantage point. But I catch myself at the last moment, remembering it’s smarter to stay put. I force my feet to root back into place, though they itch to move closer. My fingers curl and unfurl restlessly at my sides. Every nerve feels like a live wire with too much pent-up energy and nowhere to channel it. Being unable to act when every cell in my body screams for action is excruciating. I have to resist the urge to pace like a caged panther. My predatory instincts don’t like being restrained, especially when I’m being blamed for a murder I didn’t commit.
Instead, I take a slow breath, rolling my shoulders back. Patience was never my strong suit, but I have an audience and can’t afford to lose control. I look up at the sky, where the moon is still visible amidst the bright streetlights. The night is quiet, but our activity here could attract unwanted attention from any late-night wanderers or early risers. We need to hurry before any curious passersby spot us.
Trisha holds her breath before answering. “I . . . I don’t know.” She glances over at me again, but there’s no hate in her eyes this time. “Maybe because she was the last person I remember seeing besides Sandy, and I had to put the blame on someone.”
“You said the last person you saw was the one who approached you in the car. Why not put the blame on the person you saw last?”
“Well, yes, that was the person I last saw, but since I don’t remember anything about that individual, my immediate thought went to her, and that maybe she was trying to harm us in the first place.”
Only if you had done something vile, then I would have harmed you.
“How did you know your friend was here?” Cooper asks.
“I looked at my driving history on my phone, and it said I took a detour here before heading to our friend’s house. When I picked up my other two friends, they asked where Sandy had gone. I told them she was with me earlier, and I’d look for her. I dropped them off at the club before coming back here.”
“Didn’t they want to come with you to help you find Sandy? If they’re her friends too. I know if my friend was missing, I’d want to help look for them,” Agent Cooper says, and I feel like he’s trying to catch her in a lie. It’s like he almost believes Trisha might have done it.
“I didn’t want to worry them. I made it sound like we had taken a detour, and I needed to pick her up now.”
“Why did you drive here?” Agent Cooper doesn’t miss a beat. He keeps spitting questions while Agent Rodriguez writes her answers down.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” She sounds frustrated with the interrogation. Personally, I thought they’d wait until they had her in the same room I was in, but Agent Cooper knows what he’s doing. After all, he’s the lead agent on this case.
“Were you trying to buy drugs here?” He can tell as easily as I can that she’s withdrawing from something, and this place obviously shows evidence of squatters cooking drugs in this house.
“N . . . No,” she stammers.
“How did you know your friend died?” Agent Cooper inquires as Agent Rodriguez writes something down on her notepad.
Oh, that’s a good question, and I want to know the answer, too.
“I saw the cops, and I heard someone mention her name, saying Sandy was lying dead.” Her eyes start to get watery again.
Agent Cooper growls and glowers at the officers there because they weren’t being as discreet as they should’ve been. They all avoid eye contact with him.
“We’ll be taking you in for more questions. Please follow Officer Lopez. He’ll drive you to the FBI headquarters.”
She sobs, “I want to see my friend.”
“You will after we finish. First, we have a couple more questions to ask,” Agent Rodriguez says in a softer voice.
Trisha looks down, resigned, and follows the officer to the police vehicle.