AnOther Alice: A Novel (Undergoing Editing)

Chapter 10

Detective Kimura sat arms-folded across from Olivier, wordlessly scanning the handcuffed youngster's face. The twenty-eight-year-old gym instructor was the boyfriend of Celeste Alistair and had been arrested on suspicion of murder, but ever since he was apprehended trying to skip town, Olivier had only been retelling the same old story. Too many times in fact; not that this was the first time this week Kimura had heard about doppelgangers.

He'd heard it from Gabriel Brennan and his partner, Penelope McCullen, over and over again. It'd reached the point that Kimura was slowly beginning to think this was mass hysteria, or some prankster's social experiment that'd gone on for far too long.

"Let's try this again, Mr. Matthews," said Kimura, as he took out a manila folder and began reading from the documents within. "Celeste Alistair, your girlfriend has been missing over seven days, and even though you're adamant you have nothing to do with her disappearance, you didn't think to file a report?"

Olivier averted his gaze, then looked back at Kimura to glower at the detective. "That's right, and so what?"

Kimura slammed the file closed onto the table, equally pissed. "So what?" he said. "Then you should have filed a report, that's what. She's supposed to be your girlfriend, for God's sake."

Shifting in his seat, and as far as his cuffed left hand would allow, Olivier faced away from him, scowling. "I don't have to listen to this."

Leaning back in his chair, Kimura took a moment to cool himself off, and studied Olivier's appearance: his disheveled sandy blonde hair, rumpled Greenwald college sweatshirt and those dull-looking eyes with thick bags under them. It was a far cry from the put-together young man he'd met at the Everett Apartments, the night of Adelaide Steward's murder.

His observation had led him to discover the angry red handprint on Olivier's wrist, which had come into view when Olivier stirred in his seat again. Unbeknownst to him, the sleeve of his sweatshirt had risen up, revealing the blooming mark.

Kimura pointed with his pen and was careful not to actually touch it. "This mark here," he said, looking at the obvious injury. "Can you tell me what happened?"

On noticing what he was referring to, Olivier quickly yanked down his sleeve to conceal it. With the bravado gone, he looked panicked, and intentionally kept his right hand down, and out of sight.

The change of personality was a complete one-eighty. Celeste was missing. Olivier was displaying obvious signs of fear. He was hurt by someone strong enough to leave a lasting imprint on his skin. And the force it must have taken to cause that brand was frightening in of itself.

"Regarding Miss Alistair's disappearance...Was the person who made that mark on your wrist also related to this case? Is that why you won't tell me what went down?"

Eyes downcast, Olivier made no attempt to answer.

"Olivier, even if you won't talk to me, that's okay. I mean, it's not like you're leaving here anytime soon. Give or take, it could be a few days."

Kimura waited for a reaction and watched as the minutes ticked by, occasionally looking at his wristwatch. After five minutes, with disappointment reaching its peak from Olivier's lack of cooperation, the detective went to leave the interrogation room, more than ready to leave Olivier's fate up to the court system.

"You got it all wrong."

Or maybe not.

The moment Olivier had spoken up, Kimura's hand had grasped the doorknob, and the irritation of a missing persons case going nowhere was at once replaced with burning curiosity. "Really? How so?"