Chapter Thirty- Three- Sweet Dreams

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(Josie's POV)

As we walked from the brewery to the Police Station, we discussed the fact that it made the most sense to do a breathalyzer. If he couldn't drive, he shouldn't be answering questions and we wanted our interview to stand up in court.

I continued to be quite impressed with Lincoln's professionalism. He had really good protocols in place. With the instructions given to the team, we waited in the observation room of Interview room one.

It gave us front-row seating as they brought him in. Harold looked grey under the fluorescent lights, he was jittery and pale. It was more than apparent that he hadn't been expecting to be caught.

Lincoln had requested that Sam let Duncan take the lead. I wasn't sure if he had instinctively known that they would have a real good cop, bad cop thing. Or if he was deferring to my team out of consideration for our experience. Either way, nothing had happened yet, and I was impressed with his choice. Just through their mannerisms and appearance, it was the perfect fit.

Sam was born to be good cop. Putting it simply, he was god damned adorable. Everything about him screamed trustworthy and kind. His reddish hair was a bit messy and the tan skin and smattering of freckles gave him a boy next door vibe.

Duncan on the other hand, looked like he ate perps for breakfast. He was by far the gentlest giant I knew, but to look at him he was a giant meathead. He was almost twice my size, he had skin a few shades darker than tanned and beautiful green eyes that tended to transfix the bad guys. I often played the good cop to his bad, but Sam was an even better fit.

I was enjoying seeing it from this side of the glass because I rarely got to simply observe him in action.

I couldn't help but laugh as he continued to silently glare at Harold. Harold kept giving him skittish glances and every time he talked, he made sure to avoid making eye contact with Duncan, talking directly to Sam instead.

It was the same question on repeat, "Why am I here?"

Duncan laughed menacingly, on maybe the 12th ask. The harsh sound made Harold wince, as he growled out," You honestly didn't think you'd eventually end up here?"

Sam spoke up in a softer voice, "Harold we found Chantelle's bloody clothes in your trunk, we know you've been killing women."

I didn't think it was possible, but Harold went even whiter, he put his head in his hands and then started ferociously shaking it.

I knew in that moment we weren't going to get far tonight. Harold was a nervous wreck, and all signs were pointing at a man that would lawyer up relatively quickly.

When that happened, he'd need to stay in a holding cell for the night so that we could get him a lawyer, or he could call his lawyer to come in for the morning.

Harold was fumbling over his words. "I don't have any clothes in my trunk, are you sure it was mine?"

Duncan hit the table making Harold even whiter, yelling out, "Of course we know it's your fucking car!"

This time Harold was full-on stuttering "b...b...but", and then he clammed up. I shook my head at Lincoln, "twenty bucks says he's lawyering up!" Before he could answer, Harold said, "I...I think I need a lawyer."

Duncan's tone was complete disdain. "Of course, you do." He paused for effect and then added his best glare." But that won't be happening until tomorrow, so I hope you sleep well in your cell tonight."

Then he got up to leave the room, just as he was about to go through the door he threw back, "Sweet dreams fuck face!"

I laughed a little at his theatrics but as he joined us in the room, he immediately made eye contact with me. "He feels legit, Josie."

It was true. There was something about Harold's reactions that rang true. "We'll see where it takes us tomorrow."

Sam joined us after getting Harold to the holding cell and I could see the stress lines on his face. "What the fuck, Harold?"

Lincoln nodded, "I've come to realize that no matter who it is, it's going to rock us to the core."

Sam thought about it for a moment and then finally responded. "Yeah, you're right. It feels wrong. Wrong, that it's happening here. Wrong, that it's someone we know. It just feels wrong."

Lincoln gave him a slap on the shoulder. "Think you could get a defender here and ready for 8 tomorrow morning?"

Sam assured us that he would take care of it. I looked at Sam, "You and Duncan were a good combination in there. Harold obviously gravitated towards you and was nervous of Duncan. I say we keep that dynamic. You okay to stay in there tomorrow?"

A blush stained the deputy's cheeks and he answered with an eager, "Yes!"

Sam took his leave to see what Public Defender he could get in for the morning and Duncan excused himself. Letting me know that he was going to get some rest and he'd see us in the morning.

I went to grab my purse to leave as well, when my stomach growled loudly. Lincoln cleared his throat. "Josie, we never got a chance to eat. Would you want to come grab something to eat? I know I need food, I could make us something at my place?"

I froze. Shaking my head. "No. I think I'll head back to my place but thanks."

I picked up my stuff and gave him a sad smile. "I'll see you in the morning." Then I made my way out of there, turning back to give an awkward wave.

The disappointment on his face oddly matched my own feelings of discontent. Was I doing the right thing? Why was this so god damned hard? What if I was making a mistake by not trying this again?

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