“We’d appreciate your full cooperation, Ms. Foster.” Detective Olger says, shifting through a folder as she sits across the table from me. It feels like a cheesy episode of Law & Order.
“Sure, I’ll tell you anything,” I shrug, not bothering to correct her that it’s Agent Foster. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“Right.” She says, her tone telling me that she doesn’t believe me. It’s true, I’m honest to a fault, but I don’t need to explain that to her.
Moments later, her partner, Detective Jacobs comes in, balancing a stack of more folders in one hand and a full coffee carrier in the other. He sets a coffee in front of me, one in front of Olger, and one in front of himself before tossing the carrier in the trash from across the room.
Jacobs is the exact opposite of Olger, and I can already see a good cop/bad cop routine coming up if need be. Where Jacobs is tall, Olger is short. He’s thin and lanky, she’s thick and husky. He’s bald, she’s got waist length hair, carefully braided back away from her face. He’s got deep olive skin, and she’s Irish-pale.
The each wear a matching “uniform”. It isn’t a standard grunt-cop uniform, but still uniform like, with trousers (rich navy for Olger, and dull tan for Jacobs) and white button up shirts, badges and guns adorning their hips.
Jacobs sets down his stack of folders and sits in his chair next to Olger, then she starts right in with hardly any preamble. “Did you kill your father?” She still doesn’t make eye contact with me, which makes me curious.
A smile tugs at my lips, because it’s right to the big-dog question immediately, not because I think it’s funny that my father is dead. “Yes.”
“Why?” Jacobs asks, blowing across the top of his steaming coffee like it’s just another day, just another suspect, just another question.
“Let me explain.” I say, leaning forward with my elbows on the table before I rub my hands together, ready to tell them my story.
Read the next part!: Let Me Explain: Part Two