The Novel Part 6
“Tonight, when I was walking home from an interview, an old woman approached me.” I whispered calmly.
“She said she was there to help me, that my novel would be my downfall and that I should burn it,” my voice barely audible.
I appeared eerily calm on the outside but inside my mind was racing. I stared at the floor, my gaze transfixed on a stain I was never able to get off my floor. Who was that old woman? I thought to myself, did my sister send her? Was it a joke? Was my sister doing this to ruin me? Did she want money? Attention? Fame? My mind whirled with a million and one unanswered questions.
“Sir?” The red bearded officer was trying to pull me from my thoughts.
“Y yes, I’m sorry.” I stammered.
“We’re going to need you to come down to the station with us to give us your official statement about all this and what happened that night with your niece.” He was back to being a cop.
“Yes, of course.”
They were kind enough not to cuff me, but they still grabbed me by the arm and led me outside. I was put in the back of a police car and driven to the station. When we arrived, I could feel my stomach starting to churn again. I felt like I might be sick again. I was led inside to booking which was an awful experience. I recalled doing research on this for my book and it was just as humiliating as I’d made it out to be in my novel.
Finally, I was brought into an interrogation room and met a detective.
“Mr. Black, I’m Detective Johnson.” He was frightening. He had a stern face with deep lines etched into his pale skin. He stood well over six feet and spoke in a deep baratone voice. He had an icy blue gaze that stopped me in my tracks.
“Hello.” I mumbled.
“Let’s start from the beginning, why don’t you tell me what happened?” He asked.
I took a deep breath.
