Guilty

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When I walk into the room,  I am surprised to find the lights off. I flick them on and instinctively drop my hand down by where my holster is hanging.

I relax a little bit when I see a someone sitting casually on the bench inside of the cell. I quickly remember that this man is a murderer, and I tense up again. The thing that frightens me the most about him so far is the fact that he doesn’t seem to be very old. Normally you see news stories of older men murdering their wives because they cheated or something like that, but from looking at his bad posture, height, and how he is dressed... he only seems to be my age. Yep, that is definitely what frightens me.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

He snaps with a thick accent. I can’t place it right now because too many thoughts are running through my head.

“How original.” 

Shit. Shit. Shit! SHIT!

Did I seriously just sass a criminal- scratch that, a murderer? What is wrong with me today!

I stand frozen in the doorway, waiting for some kind of reaction from him, but I get nothing. As soon as I take a step forward towards the desk, I hear a chuckle. I mentally thank God that I won’t have to deal with this guy having an angry fit all because I don’t think before I speak.

“What’s your name?”

He asks once I sit down in my desk chair. I set the magazine and the coffee mug down before looking over at the holding cell.

I am startled to see him looking up at me. I jump a little, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or he just ignores it.

Damn, are criminals supposed to be attractive?

That was a stupid question. But, seriously, this lad is fine. Not the fittest guy I’ve ever seen, but definitely not the worst either. I’d probably rank him like a… seven out of ten, I guess. Maybe an eight if I’m feeling generous!

I snap out of my thoughts when I realized he is staring at me like I am staring at him. I wonder if he is judging me like I am him...

What did he ask me again?

“Pardon?” I ask, leaning back in the chair.

I kind of like being in this kind of scenario. I’m a small-framed and not well built muscle wise, but when I am sitting behind this desk, I am more powerful than anyone behind those bars. No matter how big they are, I will always have the upperhand because I have the freedom to move about. Whereas they are confined to a space about the size of my bathroom at home. 

“Your name,” He repeats, sitting up on the bench. He has rotated on it now completely and I can see his face in the dim lighting. I like his eyes. I can tell from here that they are blue, and they must be pretty blue if I can see them from here. Too bad he’s wearing a hat. I’d be interested in seeing how a young criminal styles their hair… God, what is wrong with me today?

“Bernadette.”

I lie, casually picking at the side of my mug. He snorts, but unlike me earlier today he doesn’t cover his face afterward. “That is the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh really,” I challenge, trying to come up with a good comeback. All I can think of is, “What’s yours?” which isn’t much of one. I think I would’ve come up with a better response if Bernadette actually was my name because then I would be more offended by his words.

He slouches again and stares at me. I follow his eyes and I begin to get nervous when I see that he is staring at the keys hanging off of my belt.

 I’ve never had to deal with someone trying to break free from the holding cell… there’s a first time for everything, I guess! I casually move my arm over the keys to shield them from his eyes, which causes his attention to be brought back to my face. He grins and shakes his head.

“I don’t think I am allowed to provide that information for you yet, princess.”