The fluorescent lights overhead made an awful buzzing noise, like a mosquito in the ear, and no matter how many times he tried to swat it away, it kept circling until it landed dead center.
Noah rolled his neck and adjusted his coat, grateful that Jag had recommended he keep it because it was fucking freezing in this room. Probably another intentional design choice. Though, sweating it out would’ve worked, too.
Baxter sat next to him, briefcase open, reading glasses pushed up on his forehead. “Remember, only answer what's been asked and nothing more. I put my hand on the table, you stop."
“I understand how an interrogation works.”
"You know how it works from the outside." Baxter scribbled a few things on his notepad. "It's much different when you’re sitting in that chair, and a couple of cops are grilling you.”
Noah looked at the two-way mirror. He wasn’t going to argue. Jag had already given him a few pointers from his perspective, and that was more than enough to put Noah somewhere between terrified and needing to start every conversation with a sarcastic remark.
The door opened, and a man and a woman strolled in.
“Good afternoon,” the woman said. “I’m Detective Amy Hargrove, and this is Detective Brian Minor.” Amy took up a position near the door, arms loose at her sides, and gaze on Noah like it was glued to him.
That was unsettling all by itself.
Brian placed a folder on the table, pulled out the chair across from Noah, and sat down. He had an easy smile, reminding Noah of all those movies with a good cop and a bad cop.
Brian was definitely going to play the good one, and Noah wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He suspected it would be easier if it were the other way around.
"Mr. Chase." Brian folded his hands and rested them over the folder, allowing the image of Monica to peek out.
Jag warned Noah about that, so he did his best not to look.
“Do you know Monica Payne?" Brian asked.
"Yes." Noah kept his answer to one word. Simple. Short. And to the point.
"How long have you known her?" Brian pressed his palms against the folder and the image shifted further, exposing more of Monica’s battered face.
"A few months."
"Define a few," Brian said.
“Close to four.”
"How long did you date?"
“Two months.” Noah rarely kept track of these things, but Jag had told him it was important to give them as much detail as he could. “Give or take a week or two.”
"Why did you break up?" Amy asked from her position against the wall.
"It was mutual."
Brian drummed his fingers over the folder. "That's not really a reason." Maybe he wasn’t the good cop after all.
Noah shifted. He knew he shouldn’t. He understood they would read into the movement, because he would if the situation were reversed, but he couldn’t help himself. "I was in love with someone else. I’m still in love with someone else.”
Baxter shot him a hard glare at the last qualifying sentence.
But it was true, and there was no point in hiding it.
Amy pushed off the door, put both hands flat on the table, and leaned forward. "That must have made Monica pretty angry."
“Monica knew how I felt when we started dating," Noah said. "It wasn't a surprise to her."
“That seems cruel.” Amy stood tall now and folded her arms across her chest.