19. Caligynephobia

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♡Chapter dedicated to thedeafones

"Oh your mouth is posion, your mouth is wine
You think your dreams are the same as mine
Oh I don't love you, but I always will"
The Civil Wars

"Oh your mouth is posion, your mouth is wineYou think your dreams are the same as mineOh I don't love you, but I always will"The Civil Wars

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It took an hour to get the paperwork processed.

The whole time Jon paced back and forth impatiently as the seconds trickled past. Each one could mean one of those kid’s lives.

So why the hell was he waiting to get the warrant to bring Bartholomew James in for questioning? They had enough on him to do so without it. They should act now, apologise later.

He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and turned to see his partners calm face. Isaiah seemed to have aged in the last two days, as though this case was literally sucking the life out of him.

Jon could only assume that he looked the same. If not worse.

“Calm down, Jon.”

“I can’t. Each minute that goes by-,”

“I know,” Isaiah cut him off before he could finish a sentence neither of them needed to hear. “But we have to wait.”

By the time they got the warrant, one lousy sheet of paper that could change everything, Jon was ready to explode. He snatched it out of the clerks hand and stormed through the station. He was walking so fast he almost missed the flash of red hair belonging to the man he was about to go and find.

Bartholomew James stood up from where he was seated on the fold out chairs. He walked towards the two detectives slowly and reluctantly, as though he was heading to his own execution.

“My name is-,” he faltered for a second before standing up straighter and starting again. “My name is Bartholomew James. I’ve come to confess.”

Bartholomew fidgeted in his chair, tapping his foot on the floor of the interview room

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Bartholomew fidgeted in his chair, tapping his foot on the floor of the interview room.
“I suggest you start talking. Now.” Detective Cartwright said, his eyes narrowing in impatience.

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