Read Online Vendetta by Jennifer Moulton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Moulton
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home. Julie walked up to them and handed both Mark and Detective Williams, a bottle of water.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Detective Williams said.
Mark smiled and nodded at her kind gesture. “Thanks, Jules,” he glanced at Nick.
“And thank you, for answering the Detectives questions and helping out extra at the restaurant this next week. I appreciate it. You should go home and get some rest now,” Mark said sincerely. Nick hugged him quickly… and awkwardly.
Nick assured Mark he would be there in the morning, and would “definitely” provide Mr. Williams with a complete list of the wait staff from the temp agency. Nick walked out, with an exhausted Julie in tow. Mark thanked them again for all their kindness and said good night as he locked the door behind them. Mark returned to the table, and for the first time all night, he sat down.
Mark politely and honestly answered a series of random questions leading up to the tragic event itself. Detective Williams was very respectful in his questioning.
Mark had just gotten up again to let out the last of the cleaning crew, when he came back to the table and stood for a moment, deep in thought.
“You seem like a thorough detective, Mr. Williams,” Mark said, respectively.
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I like to think so,” he smiled and took a drink of his water.
“Please, call me Mark,” he said as he took his seat across from Detective Williams.
“I would like to ask YOU a few questions now if that’s alright,” asked Mark.
“Oh, of course,” Detective Williams straightened up in his chair. “Any questions you have, just feel free to ask. I‘ll answer whatever I can, Mark.”
Mark had already anticipated this. He thought the Detective to be very forthcoming.
“Do you have a family of your own, Detective?” Mark asked bluntly.
Detective Williams was surprised by the sudden personal question. He had just assumed the questioning would be regarding the investigation.
“I …am divorced. I have a daughter, but she lives with her mother,” he said honestly.
“Aw... a tell-tale sign of a devoted Detective,” Mark smirked.
“I suppose so,” Williams stared at him intently. “What does this have to do with the investigation?” Detective Williams asked.
“Do you get to see her much? Your daughter, that is,” Mark continued.
“No. Well, I used to get her every other weekend until her mother moved to Washington State about a year ago. She doesn’t come down that often anymore,” Detective Williams looked uncomfortable.
“That’s a shame, I’m sorry to hear it,” he said sadly. “How long have you been a Detective?” Mark asked curiously.
Detective Williams took a deep breath. “Well, I was a police officer for eleven years, and I’ve been a homicide detective now, for almost five-” Williams paused.
“And how about you, how long were YOU an officer, Mr. Anderson?” He asked cautiously, reversing the questioning back to Mark.
Mark smiled wide and laughed out loud. Mark was entertained by Williams’ impressive observation.
Detective Williams smiled as he waited for his answer.
“It seems like it was a very long time ago,” Mark said calmly.
He was suddenly aware of how dry and parched his mouth and throat had become. Mark opened his bottle of water and drank most of it down in three, large gulps.
Mark absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck as he remembered. He put down the bottle carefully, and began to answer the question. “I joined the Army in ‘90 and served during Operation Desert Storm. I took some metal shrapnel in my neck, and lower back, courtesy of a tank explosion. Somehow, all my major arteries and organs were spared and I was sent home a few months later with an
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Detective Williams said.
Mark smiled and nodded at her kind gesture. “Thanks, Jules,” he glanced at Nick.
“And thank you, for answering the Detectives questions and helping out extra at the restaurant this next week. I appreciate it. You should go home and get some rest now,” Mark said sincerely. Nick hugged him quickly… and awkwardly.
Nick assured Mark he would be there in the morning, and would “definitely” provide Mr. Williams with a complete list of the wait staff from the temp agency. Nick walked out, with an exhausted Julie in tow. Mark thanked them again for all their kindness and said good night as he locked the door behind them. Mark returned to the table, and for the first time all night, he sat down.
Mark politely and honestly answered a series of random questions leading up to the tragic event itself. Detective Williams was very respectful in his questioning.
Mark had just gotten up again to let out the last of the cleaning crew, when he came back to the table and stood for a moment, deep in thought.
“You seem like a thorough detective, Mr. Williams,” Mark said, respectively.
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I like to think so,” he smiled and took a drink of his water.
“Please, call me Mark,” he said as he took his seat across from Detective Williams.
“I would like to ask YOU a few questions now if that’s alright,” asked Mark.
“Oh, of course,” Detective Williams straightened up in his chair. “Any questions you have, just feel free to ask. I‘ll answer whatever I can, Mark.”
Mark had already anticipated this. He thought the Detective to be very forthcoming.
“Do you have a family of your own, Detective?” Mark asked bluntly.
Detective Williams was surprised by the sudden personal question. He had just assumed the questioning would be regarding the investigation.
“I …am divorced. I have a daughter, but she lives with her mother,” he said honestly.
“Aw... a tell-tale sign of a devoted Detective,” Mark smirked.
“I suppose so,” Williams stared at him intently. “What does this have to do with the investigation?” Detective Williams asked.
“Do you get to see her much? Your daughter, that is,” Mark continued.
“No. Well, I used to get her every other weekend until her mother moved to Washington State about a year ago. She doesn’t come down that often anymore,” Detective Williams looked uncomfortable.
“That’s a shame, I’m sorry to hear it,” he said sadly. “How long have you been a Detective?” Mark asked curiously.
Detective Williams took a deep breath. “Well, I was a police officer for eleven years, and I’ve been a homicide detective now, for almost five-” Williams paused.
“And how about you, how long were YOU an officer, Mr. Anderson?” He asked cautiously, reversing the questioning back to Mark.
Mark smiled wide and laughed out loud. Mark was entertained by Williams’ impressive observation.
Detective Williams smiled as he waited for his answer.
“It seems like it was a very long time ago,” Mark said calmly.
He was suddenly aware of how dry and parched his mouth and throat had become. Mark opened his bottle of water and drank most of it down in three, large gulps.
Mark absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck as he remembered. He put down the bottle carefully, and began to answer the question. “I joined the Army in ‘90 and served during Operation Desert Storm. I took some metal shrapnel in my neck, and lower back, courtesy of a tank explosion. Somehow, all my major arteries and organs were spared and I was sent home a few months later with an
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