partner, Detective Megan Ash."
"Why am I here?"
"You're here concerning the incident you were involved in last night. You do remember that don't you, John?"
"I remember." John said.
"I understand you'd been doing some drinking , so I wasn't sure if you'd recall it or not.”
"I remember." His eyes tightened, shifting from Detective Bell to Detective Ash..
"Where do you work, Dr. Randall ?" Ash asked.
"I'm on disability . I worked at Greenwood Hospital. Emergency room."
"That's where we picked you up, isn't it , Dr. Randall?" Bell asked.
Bell had a smug look on his face. Must be the bad cop.
"Is it ? I don't recall." His tone was serious.
"What ? You remember the incident, but you don't recall being arrested at the hospital?"
John said nothing .
"We've taken statements from Nurse Atwood and Drs. Turner and Larson," Ash said.
"They have nothing to do with this."
"I know—" Ash started to say before Bell cut her off.
"To do with what, John?"
John said nothing. Bell leaned forward.
"What happened to your face, John ?" Bell asked.
"Don't you know?"
"I'd rather you told me."
"I …"
John moved his head away as he thought about the gunshot and, as he did so, his eyes landed on the teddy bear.
What the hell was with the bear?
And then, without notice, his thoughts turned to Trevor and his dinosaur collection. Stuffed toys, plastic dinosaur models, dinosaur posters. He was a dinosaur freak.
"John?"
He snapped out of his daydream and turned to face Ash as she read from her file. "Were you parked at 1736 Date Avenue earlier this morning, about one thirty a.m.?"
John said nothing.
"You used to live there?" Bell asked.
John took a moment before answering. "Yes."
"With your wife , Paulette, and son, Trevor?" Ash asked.
John shook at the cold mention of their names, as if this lady were reading items from a grocery list . John was growing tired of this, and they were just getting started. He was innocent. He was no killer. He peered across the table at the female detective's hand. Her pencil shook. He looked closer and could tell it wasn't the pencil shaking, but her fingers. They trembled.
"You —" he started to say to her, but Bell cut him off, which John had come to expect by now.
"John?"
"And now you live on Sonoma—1507?" Ash asked.
"Yes."
Ash flipped the sheet in front of her and read the next page. She looked up at John, then back down at the sheet.
"Your wife and son died in a car accident?"
John didn't answer. He stared at the teddy bear, and his eyes welled up. How could his wife and son have anything to do with this?
Yet he knew they did . But it wasn't their fault.
How would Paulette have felt if she knew her name was thrown about in a murder interrogation? She was a very proud and private woman. She would've been so embarrassed. How would she have felt knowing that less than twelve hours ago John sat outside their home with a gun to his chin?
It was so unfair . He didn't belong here. He didn't do anything wrong. Paulette didn't do anything wrong. Trevor was just a kid. He didn't deserve any of this. None of it was their fault. They were innocent.
"Is that bothering you, John?" Detective Bell said.
John's eyes blinked and he focused on Bell , who leaned forward, his eyes locked on John's.
"What?"
"I said is that bothering you? The teddy bear," Bell said again, with his finger pointing toward the bear.
"No," John said, confused by the question.
"Are you sure…cuz I can move it if you want me to."
And with that , Bell reached over and slid the chair a foot closer to John, banging it against the table leg, almost knocking the bear over on its side.
"There," Bell said. "That better?"
"John, you ever heard of a girl named Colleen Hanson?" Ash asked.
"No," he said.
Bell picked up the ball and ran with it, placing his elbows on the table and leaning closer to John. And then he let go with a barrage of questions, steamrolling John in the process.
"Lori
"Why am I here?"
"You're here concerning the incident you were involved in last night. You do remember that don't you, John?"
"I remember." John said.
"I understand you'd been doing some drinking , so I wasn't sure if you'd recall it or not.”
"I remember." His eyes tightened, shifting from Detective Bell to Detective Ash..
"Where do you work, Dr. Randall ?" Ash asked.
"I'm on disability . I worked at Greenwood Hospital. Emergency room."
"That's where we picked you up, isn't it , Dr. Randall?" Bell asked.
Bell had a smug look on his face. Must be the bad cop.
"Is it ? I don't recall." His tone was serious.
"What ? You remember the incident, but you don't recall being arrested at the hospital?"
John said nothing .
"We've taken statements from Nurse Atwood and Drs. Turner and Larson," Ash said.
"They have nothing to do with this."
"I know—" Ash started to say before Bell cut her off.
"To do with what, John?"
John said nothing. Bell leaned forward.
"What happened to your face, John ?" Bell asked.
"Don't you know?"
"I'd rather you told me."
"I …"
John moved his head away as he thought about the gunshot and, as he did so, his eyes landed on the teddy bear.
What the hell was with the bear?
And then, without notice, his thoughts turned to Trevor and his dinosaur collection. Stuffed toys, plastic dinosaur models, dinosaur posters. He was a dinosaur freak.
"John?"
He snapped out of his daydream and turned to face Ash as she read from her file. "Were you parked at 1736 Date Avenue earlier this morning, about one thirty a.m.?"
John said nothing.
"You used to live there?" Bell asked.
John took a moment before answering. "Yes."
"With your wife , Paulette, and son, Trevor?" Ash asked.
John shook at the cold mention of their names, as if this lady were reading items from a grocery list . John was growing tired of this, and they were just getting started. He was innocent. He was no killer. He peered across the table at the female detective's hand. Her pencil shook. He looked closer and could tell it wasn't the pencil shaking, but her fingers. They trembled.
"You —" he started to say to her, but Bell cut him off, which John had come to expect by now.
"John?"
"And now you live on Sonoma—1507?" Ash asked.
"Yes."
Ash flipped the sheet in front of her and read the next page. She looked up at John, then back down at the sheet.
"Your wife and son died in a car accident?"
John didn't answer. He stared at the teddy bear, and his eyes welled up. How could his wife and son have anything to do with this?
Yet he knew they did . But it wasn't their fault.
How would Paulette have felt if she knew her name was thrown about in a murder interrogation? She was a very proud and private woman. She would've been so embarrassed. How would she have felt knowing that less than twelve hours ago John sat outside their home with a gun to his chin?
It was so unfair . He didn't belong here. He didn't do anything wrong. Paulette didn't do anything wrong. Trevor was just a kid. He didn't deserve any of this. None of it was their fault. They were innocent.
"Is that bothering you, John?" Detective Bell said.
John's eyes blinked and he focused on Bell , who leaned forward, his eyes locked on John's.
"What?"
"I said is that bothering you? The teddy bear," Bell said again, with his finger pointing toward the bear.
"No," John said, confused by the question.
"Are you sure…cuz I can move it if you want me to."
And with that , Bell reached over and slid the chair a foot closer to John, banging it against the table leg, almost knocking the bear over on its side.
"There," Bell said. "That better?"
"John, you ever heard of a girl named Colleen Hanson?" Ash asked.
"No," he said.
Bell picked up the ball and ran with it, placing his elbows on the table and leaning closer to John. And then he let go with a barrage of questions, steamrolling John in the process.
"Lori
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