Page 64 of Saving Saul

He pulls me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a fortress. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead. “We’ll handle this. Just follow my lead, alright?”

I nod, clinging to him as if he’s the only solid thing in a world that suddenly feels unsteady.

When we stepout onto the porch, the humid, thick, and suffocating night air presses against my skin. My pulse pounds in my ears as one of the officers steps forward, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his hat.

“Good evening,” he says. “I’m Officer Landry. Is this the residence of Mr. Saul Mensah?”

“Yes, sir,” Saul replies without hesitation, his voice calm and assertive. “How can I help you?”

The officer glances between us, his tone clipped. “We received suspicious activity reports at this address and were sent to investigate.”

I can feel the heat rise in my chest, anger mingling with fear.

“Suspicious activity?” Saul’s brow arches as he crosses his arms, his calm exterior unshaken. “Four officers seems a bit excessive for that, don’t you think?”

Landry’s eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens. “No, I don’t. You never know what people might be hiding. Can you both step out here so we can talk?”

We oblige, but tension coils in my stomach as the questions begin. A big Black man, four cops, and a cabin in the woods sounds like the start of a Jordan Peele horror film.

“Mr. Mitchell, you work as a bouncer and cook at Crescent Hall, correct?”

“Yes.”

The officer’s gaze shifts to me. “And you were at Crescent Hall last Friday Night?”

I nod, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Yes, but we came home early and stayed in for the night.”

Lord, now I’m lying for this man.

Landry raises an eyebrow, skepticism flickering across his face. “We’re aware of the altercation with Chief Dupree. Care to explain what happened?”

Saul steps forward, his presence commanding. “Yes, I’ll explain. The chief repeatedly put his hands on my fiancée despite her asking him to stop. He was harassing her, and when I intervened, he threw the first punch. If you check the security footage at Crescent Hall, you’ll see that I acted in self-defense.”

I haven’t had a chance to say yes yet. But I can’t say that I hate him calling me his fiancée.

The officers exchange glances, their expressions unreadable. But Saul’s tone remains steady, unwavering. “You’re here because he sent you, hoping to intimidate us. But if you want the truth, you won’t find it by wasting time here. Check the security tapes. They’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

The officer's next words drop like a stone into the charged silence. “So, I take it you don’t know that Chief Dupree is dead?”

I gasp, stumbling back as if the air has turned solid around me. “What? How? What happened?”

Officer Landry’s gaze sharpens, dissecting every trace of emotion on my face. “We were hoping you could tell us. He was found face-down on the pavement outside Crescent Hall. Evidence suggests he may have been thrown from the roof of the building. What can you tell us about that?”

Before I can respond, Saul steps in front of me, his broad frame shielding me from their prying eyes. His stance is unyielding, and his arms are folded across his chest. He exudes a calm authority that leaves no room for argument.

“Officers,” he begins, his tone clipped and measured, “you’ve taken enough of our time without presenting formal charges or issuing a subpoena. If you need further statements, I’ll need to call my lawyer. Chief Dupree was alive and inside Crescent Hallwhen we left. That is the only statement we’ll be making at this time.”

Landry’s jaw twitches, his composure cracking ever so slightly. “Mr. Mensah, we understand this is an uncomfortable situation for you and your fiancée, but these questions are necessary. We need to rule out any possibility of foul play involving either of you. Please understand, this is standard procedure.”

Saul takes a measured breath, his lips tightening in a grim line. I can feel his reluctance in the subtle tension of his shoulders, but he nods. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

The officers press on, peppering Saul with inquiries about his whereabouts before and after the altercation with Dupree. Saul offers them only curt, non-committal answers, his face a mask of stoic resolve. He dances around the truth when they probe into suspicious activities or strange encounters, conveniently omitting our run-in with Celine Varennes.

His calm, unflappable demeanor doesn’t falter, even as the officers scribble furiously in their notebooks, their skepticism thick in the air.

After fifteen minutes, the lead officer finally steps back, his eyes narrowing. “You think you’re slick,” Landry says, his tone dripping with disdain, “but we’ll get to the bottom of this. Call your lawyer. We still need to take your full statement and conduct further questioning at the precinct. Can you both report there tomorrow morning?”

Saul glances at me out of the corner of his eye, a silent exchange passing between us. He nods slowly, his voice steady as he replies,

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