Guilty

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.” I snap, spinning the chair so I am no longer facing the unnamed man. I flip the magazine open to the first page.

“Calm down babe, it’s just a nickname.”

I cringe this time when he spoke. “Seriously? Babe?” I ask, not looking away from the magazine.

“I always call hot girls babe, babe.” I flip another page. For a few seconds the only sounds in the room are his breathing, my breathing, and the faint beep of the surveillance camera in the corner in case something goes wrong. He breaks the silence.

“So… Bernadette, wanna tell me your real name?”

He asks, and I scoff before flipping another page. I don’t look up from the magazine.

“Or you can at least come up with a less stupid fake name.” He suggests and I rol my eyes. “Oh c’mon Bernie!” He pleads, and I have to fight away a smile. Why am I acting like this? All flirty and sassy. This guy is a murderer. I really should’ve eaten breakfast this morning.

“Claire.”

I finally answer, looking up from the magazine. What do I have to lose in telling him my name? This guy is probably gonna be in prison in a few weeks, and he’ll be out of my life by tomorrow! Might as well be civil.

“Claire.” He repeats, slouching again. I nod my head and absent-mindedly flipped another page, even though I didn’t even read the one that I was on. I know he noticed this, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just stares at me. “You’re telling the truth,” He states, rubbing the side of his face with his hand. “Wanna know how I know that?”

I let a small smile sneak through and cross my legs before turning the chair to face him again. “How?”

“When you said that your name was Bernadette you were picking at the mug. That’s an extremely obvious sign of someone lying. Like, seriously, go see any detective movie ever and that line will be in it! Nervous hand movements. But, when you said Claire, you were looking right at me. Obvious sign that someone is telling the truth: eye contact.”

He explains and I nod my head. Of course I already knew all of that, because of training and such, but it’s interesting that he knows it. Like the guy said though, it’s in practically every bad cop movie ever made!

“Well, let’s play a game,” I suggest before resting my elbows on my knees and my head on my folded hands. “You tell me some names, and I try to guess which one is your actual name.” Though I try not to show it, I am surprised to see the mystery murderer give me a big grin. “Sounds good.”

I let him think of names while I sit up straight and take a sip of my coffee. After a minute, I look back to him expectantly.

“Niall,” He says, looking me right in the eye. His bright eyes burning holes in my dark ones. “Logan,” This time his eyes dart away for only a second, but I notice it. His name definitely is not Logan. “And.. Louis.” I stare at him dumbfounded when he chokes out the last name. It almost sounds like it pains him to say it. It might be Louis then… Say he had some traumatic experience involving his name and that is what made him a criminal..

 I replay his movements in my head, but I can’t think of anything that really stands out. I decide to just take a guess.

“Niall.”

“Are you a detective, Claire?”

He completely ignores my answer. His name is Niall, I know it is now. If it was one of the other two, he would’ve been smug about it and said no. I am already getting a hint at what Niall’s character is like, and he seems to be acting like a typical rebellious teenager. Except typical rebellious teenagers don’t murder old ladies and their pup...

“I might be.” I answer as vaguely as possible. Isn’t my name enough for him to know?

“Ah, so you are. Makes no sense considering you're sittin’ round here at-“ I watch him squint his eyes at the clock hanging on the wall in the far corner of the room. “Eight thirty in the morning watching the likes of me!” I mentally slap myself for not recognizing his accent earlier. Niall is obviously Irish, just the way he says thirty like ‘turdy’ gave it away. I had a friend back at the police academy that was Irish. I haven’t spoken to her since we both graduated. 

“Well, it’s my job to watch the murderers.” I say, and I immediatly regret it.

Once again we have an example of me being a brain dead asshole who doesn't think before she speaks.

Niall’s posture changes again when I say the M word. His shoulders slump forward, his grip on the end of his jacket sleeves tighten so his knuckles turned from blush red to a dull white, his eyes find the area on the ground between his shoes, and his jaw clenches so I can just barely see the outline of it from so far away. He takes a deep breath, and I lean forward in my seat to inspect him. He reminds me of the Incredible Hulk right now. Except instead of being green, his cheeks are bright pink. That makes me think more of a Cabbage Patch Kids doll, but I think Hulk would describe the lad’s personality more accurately. If I can even judge his personality, I’ve known him for barely ten minutes.

“I’m not a murderer.”

I can barely hear him through his clenched teeth and thick accent, but I scoff anyways.

“Sure, and you just happened to be at the crime scene, right? Save it, mate. I’ve heard it all before.” I’m not sure where my sudden confidence comes from. Maybe it’s from the fact that I’m still the most powerful one in the room at the moment, no matter how mental this guy is.

I jump and grab the sides of my chair when a sudden clang rings through the room. “I’m not a fucking murderer!” Niall shouts, hitting his handcuffs against the metal bars. I didn’t even realize he is wearing cuffs until now. They must’ve deemed him not safe, which makes total sense. I recover from the startle and stand up from the chair. My hand rests on the holster hanging at my side.

“Calm down.” I command, but he continues to hit the bars. Now he’s hitting them with his fist. Niall winces each time his hand comes in contact with the metal, but he persists, completely ignoring the fact that his fingers are already bruising. “Knock it off!” I yell, already frustrated with the short tempered man.

If he doesn’t stop soon then the chief is going to come in, and that won’t look good on my part. Technically I am the cause of this outburst.

I glance at the surveillance camera on the wall and see it fixed right on Niall. “Stop.” I plead, making my tone sound desperate. Maybe he’ll respond to that. He seems to have taken a liking of some sorts to me. This clanging is already bringing on a massive headache for me

. “I am not a murderer.” He insists again as he sits back down on the bench.

I stand in front of the cell, frozen. I can’t believe he just stopped so easily. I was expected at least some kind of fight out of him..

Niall's hands reach up to cover his ears, and he shakes his head.

"I've gotta get out of here."