Page 27 of Once Marked
Callahan’s contempt was visible.And it wasn’t just anger that Riley detected in him now; it was something colder, more calculating.
He feels like he’s in his element,she thought.
Riley settled into a hard-backed chair.Sheriff Beeler and Chief Thorne took chairs alongside hers, forming a united front that seemed to bounce off the invisible shield Callahan had erected around himself.
“Mr.Callahan,” Riley began calmly.
“Save it,” he cut her off, leaning back with a clatter of cuffs against the stark table.“We all know I don’t have to say a damn thing, especially not before my lawyer gets here.”He leaned back in his chair, the metal cuffs clinking against the table.“But hey, I’m not against having a friendly little chat in the meantime.”
“Then let’s chat,” Riley said, her tone light but her eyes sharp, probing.Callahan’s smirk never wavered, but Riley noticed a slight flicker—an involuntary twitch at the corner of his eye.It was the tiniest of tells, and she wasn’t sure how to read it.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr.Callahan?”Riley asked.Beeler shifted uncomfortably next to her, his impatience a living presence, but Riley remained focused on the man in front of her.
“Always a pleasure to see the law’s finest in action,” Callahan drawled, his gaze flickering between the officers.He glanced up at the mirror, as though he knew Ann Marie was watching too.
“Is that so?”Thorne interjected, his voice low, a growl of contained anger.“Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re the one in the hot seat.”
“But maybe you can clear things up by answering a few questions,” Sheriff Beeler interrupted, leaning forward and resting his heavy arms on the table separating them from the suspect.“For example, where were you on the night of August 30th?”
“Right here in Sandhaven, where else?”Callahan’s reply came with a shrug so casual it seemed practiced.
“That’s a lie,” Beeler’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.“I know for a fact, you spent that night in Teomoc.You were there repairing Kip Palmer’s sloop.”
For just a heartbeat, surprise flitted across Callahan’s features—a rare crack in his otherwise composed demeanor—as if the sheriff’s words had pried open a door he’d hoped to keep shut.But just as quickly, it was plastered over with an amused smile.
“Well, now that you mention it, I do remember being in Teomoc that night.Funny how memory works, isn’t it?”He leaned forward, a predator’s grin spreading across his lips.
“So tell me, Sheriff, if you already knew where I was, why’d you bother asking?”
“Mr.Callahan,” Riley asked, her voice betraying none of the frustration she felt, “did you have any contact with Billie Shearer while you were in Teomoc?”
“Billie who?”Callahan’s response came too quick, his feigned ignorance almost comical.
“There’s no point in denying that you knew her,” Riley pressed on.“We have firm evidence that you were sending Billie unwanted emails and photos.We also believe that you sent similar messages to Julie Sternan.”
Callahan merely leaned back in his chair, his smirk stretching wider as if he relished the challenge.“I’d like to see you prove that,” he taunted.
Sheriff Beeler’s patience snapped; his hand came down hard on the table, the sound reverberating off the walls.Callahan jolted.“Enough games, Callahan.Did you have anything to do with the deaths of Billie Shearer and Julie Sternan?”
Riley watched as the muscles in Callahan’s jaw tightened and then relaxed, his facade of indifference almost perfect.But for that fleeting moment—that a twitch, a mere ripple across his face—it was there again.Fear?Guilt?Riley wasn’t certain.His voice, however, betrayed none of it.
“They’re dead?That’s news to me,” he said, leaning back with calculated casualness.“Sorry to hear it.Such a shame.”He sounded as if they were discussing nothing more consequential than a change in the weather.
Riley caught the brief glances exchanged among her colleagues—Beeler’s frown, Thorne’s narrowed eyes.They all knew it; the suspect’s claim was absurd.The Outer Banks had become a tinderbox of rumors and whispers about those murders, a relentless undercurrent that pulsed through every corner of the tight-knit communities.To suggest he hadn’t heard of those murders was a clumsy attempt at deception that only deepened her conviction that they were dealing with a man who thrived on manipulation.Whether Callahan had blood on his hands or not, the lie was undeniable.
“News to you?”Beeler’s tone was incredulous, the vein at his temple pulsating with restrained anger.“You expect us to believe that?”
The room held its breath for a moment, waiting, but Callahan’s facade didn’t crack.He maintained his composure and the glimmer of defiance in his eyes seemed to burn a touch brighter.
Riley’s mind raced as she processed Callahan’s responses.His arrogance was annoying, but it felt performative, like a mask worn to provoke rather than conceal.Callahan’s behavior was not that of a cornered killer—it was too self-assured, too deliberate.A true predator would be calculating, cautious, but Callahan was all bluster and baiting, like a stage actor relishing his role.The man sitting across from them was undoubtedly hiding something—but what?Was it related to these murders at all?
She glanced at Beeler, whose demeanor reflected a bulldog mentality, relentless and determined.Yet Riley knew that kind of force alone wouldn’t break Callahan.
Despite being a suspect in custody and handcuffs, his confidence bordered on arrogance.His responses were too smooth, his provocations too calculated.In Riley’s experience, most real killers would either be sweating under the scrutiny or exhibiting some sign of remorse or fear.There were exceptions among truly deadly characters, but they were rare.
Then Riley again caught that twitch in the corner of Callahan’s eye, and this time she knew how to read it.Riley trusted her gut, and right now, it told her they were had the wrong man.Callahan was a red herring—a distraction from the culprit lurking in the Outer Banks.She glanced at the mirror, as though exchanging a glance with Ann Marie through the glass, a silent conversation passing between them: Callahan might enjoy this cat-and-mouse game, but he was not their killer.
It was a conclusion that both troubled and intrigued Riley.If Callahan wasn’t their man, then who was?And what was his angle in all this?Those questions loomed larger with each passing moment in the dimly lit room, unanswered.
