Chapter 8: Ambush

*Claire*

He probably knows the entire process. You bring someone into the room, leave them to see how they react, and then go in to try and catch them in a lie. It is a fairly simple process.

Still, there is a skill to questioning a suspect. You need to get into the head of the person you are questioning. You need to have keen perception and insight. You need to know them better than they know themselves in an instant.

I look at my opponent sitting directly opposite me as we sit at the table in the interrogation room. I am woefully unprepared. The words of my supervisor, the Chief, rings in between my ears.

He approached me just before I went in to question Nathaniel, almost angry that I brought him in. He calmed down when I told him it was just for his statement on the crime scene before we arrived, but I could sense I was on thin ice by pursuing this avenue.

Still, my gut never led me astray before. It would not do so now.

I click record on the digital device in the room and begin.

“State your first and last name for the record, please,” I say. Nathaniel smiles. Is he going to comply?

“Even though you know it already, I suppose this is for the record. It is Nathaniel Ballard,” he says smoothly. “Should I spell it out for you?”

“I think I can manage,” I reply, keeping myself in check. This is on the record after all. “Let’s get down to it. On November fourteenth of this year, you were the first to arrive at the scene of a crime. Would you describe what you saw when you arrived on the scene?”

“Certainly. When I arrived at the scene, I noticed the victim was already deceased because they were unmoving and there was blood surrounding the body. Upon approaching the victim while maintaining my distance to not contaminate the crime scene, I saw the victim looked like other victims of the Drainer, a serial killer who seemingly dehydrates and drains the body; hence the name,” states Nathaniel clearly, mechanically. It is like he rehearsed this a million times before.

“You say you maintained distance to not contaminate the crime scene. Do you have any evidence to support this?” I ask. I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it – and he knows it.

“No, I arrived on the scene prior to law enforcement,” says Nathaniel. Finally! On record with something suspicious.

“How did you arrive prior to law enforcement?” I prompt.

“I am a private investigator and do have tools, such as a police scanner, that alerts me to certain dispatch calls. I happened to be in the area,” says Nathaniel. His body posture does not shift an inch, which is a usual indicator of someone lying. Rats. He is good.

“You happened to be in the area?” I ask.

“That is correct. I understand why you, Officer Knight, may have your suspicions; however, I believe you, should you decide to investigate me as a suspect or person of interest, will find based on my mobile device’s GPS that it will verify my whereabouts prior to the dispatch call,” says Nathaniel.

I want to grind my teeth down to the gum, but I do not. He is good. He knew I would ask about something else to verify his location. This is probably the hardest questioning session I through. I begin to continue with my line of questioning, but I am cut short when the Chief taps on the door and enters.

“Officer Knight, a word please,” he says not as a suggestion, but as a command. I grit my teeth and get up to follow him. The door is shut before the Chief continues. “What are you doing?”

“Questioning a witness and getting his testimony,” I say stiffly.

“Really? It sounds like you are trying to frame Mr. Ballard for being the Drainer or, at the very least, being an accomplice,” says the Chief. I look away back to the door before taking a quick, calming breath and looking him in the eye.

“I think he’s hiding something,” I say quietly.

“Oh, for goodness sakes, Knight. We’ve already vetted the guy,” says the Chief, looking at me with an almost disbelieving look.

I do not even have time to stop myself before I let my mouth start moving.

“Meaning everyone has gotten comfortable with him being around. Perfect opportunity.”

“Excuse me?” demands the Chief, not quite raising his voice, but certainly sounding surprised at this temporary lapse of discipline on my part.

“Apologies,” I say quietly.

“Officer Knight, I assure you that Mr. Ballard has gone through the proper channels and would not be allowed to investigate any case without my permission. We are also under a lot of heat right now from the media and my superiors to put a stop to these murders. Like it or not, I am asking you to put your personal feelings for Mr. Ballard to the side and focus on the case,” instructs the Chief.

I know he is not playing around and simply nod.

“Yes, sir,” I say. With that, the Chief pushes past me and sticks his head into the room.

“Mr. Ballard, you are free to leave. We have no more questions,” says the Chief before stalking back to his office. Great. I feel more frustrated than ever because I was so close and was denied my one shot.

Nathaniel gives me a brief smile before leaving for the evening. I feel sick. I need a run or a walk. Something to take my mind off of what is going on. I still have thirty minutes on my shift, so I go back to my desk and wait out the clock.

The clock ticks down and I am finally able to leave. I wonder if Nathaniel is still in the area. Should I tail him even with the Chief’s instruction to leave things be?

If Nathaniel can believe in “coincidences,” why couldn’t I be in the same place at the same time as him? I make up my mind to follow him the next time I see him.

I go out into the brisk air. My head still feels fuzzy. I need to walk and think. I throw my personal belongings into my car, keeping my firearm and taser on my hip, and begin walking along the sidewalk.

My mind is a swirling mess. One thought leads to the next, making leaps in logic like a stone skipping across a pond. I know I am distracted and need to pay attention to where I am going, but I let my feet carry me from lamplight to lamplight anyway.

I am still shocked that the Chief, of all people, thinks it is a bad idea to do some in-house cleaning and inspection.

I continue for what feels like hours before I notice how far I walked. Great. I turn to begin the trek back, being no closer to solving my Nathaniel issue than before, when I notice something.

There is some torn down chain length fence between a couple of buildings. It doesn’t surprise me. There are plenty of buildings in disrepair that need a little bit of TLC.

It is not the building or the fence that catches my attention. Standing purposefully in the shadows are three figures. They look tall but slender, male, and most likely up to no good being out this late at night with it being as chilly as it is.

The hair on the back of my neck raises and I get a familiar feeling in my gut. I am in danger. I can feel it.

I need to get out of here.

My heart begins to pound in my chest like a warning drum urging me forward. I cross the street after looking both ways and begin my trek back.

I curse myself for not bringing my phone with me. I had my personal protection, but no backup in a three versus one did not bode well for me.

I almost make it when I notice a shadow just ahead emerging from a side street. An ambush? Are you serious? I mentally prepare myself, turning on my work switch, as my hand instinctually grasps the taser at my side.

In a fraction of a moment, the other three are closing in. When did they get so close? I should have heard their footsteps, right?

“Hey! How’s it going?” one of them asks. All of them are wearing hoods that cover their faces in a shadow. I can make out a few details, but nothing that a sketch artist would have an easy time with.

“Let me past,” I say firmly, trying to keep my voice from shaking with nerves. They continue to surround me. My blood is pumping in my ears now. I feel it throbbing in my neck.

“Why? What’s the rush?” another one asks, standing too close behind me. I need to act fast.

“Police! Put your hands in the air!” I shout as I pull out my taser. They’re closing in quickly.

“Don’t be like that, doll face,” one of them coos at me. I don’t see it happen. They move with incredible speed as they lunge at me. I barely have time to pull the trigger on my taser, hitting one of them square in the chest.

I feel my stomach drop as I listen to the electrical surges of the device course into the figure and do nothing. What? No affect?