Before Altswood Can Cry (The Altswood Saga #4)

Chapter 8 - Weaponry

Author's Note: Do you guys remember the show iCarly? Remember how they had that segment with the voice yelling RANDOOOOOM DANCING? Well, I should have a segment with a voiceover that goes RANDOOOOOM UPDATING!!!! Thankfully this chapter is short so we'll just count it as a two-for-one deal. Vote if you enjoyed and I'd love to hear your thoughts ;)

Chapter 8 - Weaponry

12AM — 12 hours remaining

I thought leaving Altswood would mean the end of my days in police stations, answering questions during the dead of night. Alas, the universe had other plans.

"This is your last chance," Agent Biccieri warned, leaning back into his chair heavily. Above him, a light bulb was swinging back and forth, illuminating the interrogation room a hazy blue-white.

"I have nothing to say," I seethed through my teeth. I shifted in my seat, feeling my phone press against my leg. They had tried to take it, but I had fussed so much that I had been allowed to simply turn it off and leave it in my pocket. "I'll say it one final time: we stopped the bomb."

"Yet how do we know you didn't plant it?"

"Do you have evidence that says we planted it?" I shot back.

Rather begrudgingly, Agent Biccieri laced his fingers together. "We do not."

"And do you have a search warrant?" I asked. "Do you have an arrest warrant?"

"No—"

"Then you absolutely cannot continue holding me here," I interrupted, waving my handcuffs in the air. The sound jangled between my wrists like a merry tune.

In truth, I wasn't sure if I was right, but it sounded logical, didn't it? If they couldn't prove that we were a danger to society, they keep me in this interrogation room or Jules in his cell for any longer. On Bottle Island, they couldn't even arrest Luca and Gabriel, and the police actually had what they thought was video footage of the two leaving a murder scene.

"Listen," I said when Agent Biccieri remained silent. My voice turned pleading. "When Officer Taverna was dying, he warned me of a final bomb tomorrow at noon. He said that it was dangerous, much more than the ones that have already gone off. Your attention is in the wrong place. You have to stop the bomb instead of wasting your time with us."

Agent Biccieri didn't look swayed. He didn't even consider my plea like Agent Di Napoli, save for a short, fleeting second, when I thought I caught a flash of guilt.

Then:

"Do not tell us how to do our jobs, young lady," Agent Biccieri snapped. He stood, wobbling slightly with his misshapen middle, then stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I groaned. Loudly. For the next thirty minutes, I could do nothing except stare at the ceiling, sliding my hands around the cuffs in hopes it would slip out. No dice.

At last, the door opened again, and Agent Biccieri was back, probably after questioning Jules with the same line of fire he had tried to hit me with. He stood at the doorway, staring, as if his words hadn't had any effect but now he would get a confession of guilt out of me by sheer willpower. I stared back silently.

Agent Biccieri finally reached for the keys around his belt and unlocked my cuffs.

"You're free to go," he grunted. "But if you two have something to do with this, we /will have the right to arrest you—your American passport be damned."

"Whatever," I muttered, rubbing my sore wrists.

***