Page 51 of Vampire so Virtuous
The stale smell of sweat and coffee probably still lingered, but she no longer registered it.
“Explain the kick you used on the first man,” the cop asked, for what was probably the tenth time.
They’d told her their names at the start, but she hadn’t cared and long since forgotten. The larger of the two was dark-skinned, his shirt wrinkled except where it stretched taut across his big stomach. The other was balding with a beard, as if his hair had slipped. Still, she liked him best—he had kind eyes. He was her ‘good cop’ to the other’s ‘bad,’ but the difference in their attitudes was small: they were both assholes.
“It was a flying side-kick,” Cally replied, wearily. She still felt detached—maybe even more so than the night before—and it was an effort to focus and answer their questions. But she needed to stay sharp, consistent, and avoid mentioning the V-word.
“And this was the kick that broke the man’s neck.”
“No.” The word came out too sharp, but she couldn’t help it. “I’ve told you.”A dozen times.“The impact is a straight-on blow, and I struck his chest. His neck was broken with a twist, as no doubt your coroner can confirm. So it could not have been from my kick.”
“So you broke his neck afterwards?”
“No,” she said with vehemence through clenched teeth. They’d asked her that a dozen times too, but perversely, it had become her favorite question: it was the one she could answer without any guilt.
Good Cop checked his notes. “Your second kick on that victim was to the head.”
“Yes,” she replied woodenly. The word ‘victim’ still grated on her. They’d called her attackers that from the start, and the irony wasn’t lost on her.
“So your kick twisted the man’s head around, snapping his neck.”
“Look, I’m not an expert like your people will be. Don’t you have forensic scientists? CSI-types? Ask them if such a kick could break a man’s neck with a twisting effect.”
The two cops shared a look, and Bad Cop leaned forward.
“So you claim your rescuer turned up and snapped the necks of all three attackers—”
“He wasn’t my rescuer.”
“—and you say you don’t know him?”
“I said I don’t know him because I don’t know him.”
“Minh, right?”
“Yes, Minh.”
“Asian? Five-ten? Hundred and fifty pounds?”
“Yes, as best as I can remember.”
“But you don’t know him?”
“No.”Still don’t know him. Didn’t know him when I first told you, didn’t know him an hour ago, don’t know him now.
Good Cop scratched at his beard, trying to make his question seem nonchalant. “Why do you think he interfered, then?”
She’d asked herself the same thing. What reason had he had for killing the ‘thralls’? He’d said something about leaving bodies. Why was he there? Was it merely coincidence, or had he been there because of the other vampire? Was he there for her, or had he been drawn in because of the obvious interest the other vamp had shown her? But there were no answers.
“I’ve told you I don’t know.”True, if not totally honest.
“Yes, so you’ve said.” Bad Cop tapped his pen on the table. “The issue, Cally, is that we’re having a hard time believing you.”
“Not my problem.” She wanted this to end. Maybe she should ask for that lawyer after all. At least it would buy some time. To do what? Return to her cell while they found one? Then go through it all again at five hundred dollars an hour?
Bad Cop was quick to lean forward, his chair creaking. “Yeah, it is, Ms. Davis. If you can’t convince us, how will you convince a jury?”
Cally remained silent; there was no comeback to that. Whether theybelieved her or not wouldn’t change the outcome; she knew she had prison time in her future. Why was life so unfair?
