A Berry Good Knight

On the Knight in Question... (SIX)

Heart thumping beneath my chest, I sat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man inside a square room that would take about six steps to get from one stark white wall to the one opposite. A heavy, rectangular, deeply scarred ugly pea green table was before me with another chair (which happened to be padded) on the opposite side. Inserted on the wall to my left was a mirror running the length of it. I wasn't born yesterday. I figured employees could stand on the other side of that wall to witness what took place within here. I wished that I had my jacket, as it was a bit chilly inside that room.

Since my watch along with my other personal belongings had been taken during the booking process, I had no way of knowing what time it was, but I guessed that I had been at the police station for at least a couple of hours. My heart pounded throughout booking, as I had to remove everything but the clothes on my back. Afterward, they took my basic information such as name, address, emergency contact, place of employment...

I was again reminded of criminal TV shows when photographed, having my fingerprints taken, and they even wanted a sample of my handwriting, which wasn't fun to do with my stitched and sprained hand. Once booking was completed, an officer escorted me to the interrogation room, informing me that someone would be with me shortly. I was quite certain that shortly had come and gone already, as I had been sitting in that lousy chair for a while.

Fingers linked on that table, I twirled my thumbs while wondering for about the dozenth time how Brooke was doing. I had already attempted sending positive vibes along with a couple of prayers that she would make a speedy recovery. I'd wanted to be there for her when she awakened, yet it didn't seem that would occur. Even if the person were someone such as Tanya, I wished that she could awaken to a friendly and concerned face.

Following two sharp knocks, the door opened, a brunette casually dressed in blue jeans, a blouse, and a brown leather jacket entering. When her eyes met mine and she smiled, a pair of deep dimples showing, I softly gasped. Ever meet someone and comment that they reminded you of a certain celebrity? Well, the officer resembled her so much, that for a moment I wondered if Rachel McAdams had left the acting world, and decided to become a cop.

As she introduced herself as Detective Morgan Dunn, and set a thick folder and tall cup of what I suspected was coffee on the table, I could feel myself calming a fraction or two. Like Rachel McAdams, the early thirty-something detective appeared quite sweet and approachable. Perhaps this questioning phase wouldn't be so stressful. All I had to do was explain my side. They would probably release me within the hour.

Seated, Rach-- Detective Dunn removed a small tape recorder from the folder. Thumb hovering the record button, she looked at me. "Let's get something straight before we begin. I am not, nor as far as I know am I related to Rachel McAdams. Got it?"

Oh, crap. Rachel didn't have that semi bitchy, semi frosty edge to her voice. What was that saying about judging a book by its cover? I would do well to remember that. Clearing my throat, I nodded. "Sure."

Record button pressed, she placed the tape recorder toward the middle of the table. Reaching into the folder, she withdrew a notepad along with a pen. "Would you please state your name."

Nervousness returning full force, I lightly drummed my fingertips on the table. "Cooper."

Although I yearned to turn away, I managed to maintain eye contact as the detective stared at me. "Are you Beyonce or Adele?"

Confusion filled my face. "Huh?" What did singing ability have to do with the current situation? I'll be honest. If singing had to be involved, I would surely get the death penalty.

Head cocked to the side, she smirked. "One name?"

Oh! I mentally smacked my forehead. "Cooper Joanna Knight."