Chapter 15

Agents Radcliff and Bolson didn’t say anything as they drove me through town. I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter, so I held my tongue too.

We didn’t go far. They took me to the Arlington Police station on the corner of South Cooper and West Division. The building was an off white with several flags flying out front, but we didn’t go to the front. We pulled into the parking lot in the back.

I wasn’t handcuffed, but I found my door locked when we were parked and the agents got out. Agent Bolson turned and let me out once Agent Radcliff was standing at the front of the vehicle. If Tanner’s descriptions of magical and non-magical factions hadn’t already made me a little paranoid, then these two would do the job by their actions alone.

I climbed out and had to look up to meet Agent Bolson’s eyes. He had a pair of sunglasses on, masking what he was really feeling. Without my Magic I couldn’t tell what his emotional state was like. Then I asked myself, why did I even want to know that?

Agent Radcliff stood at the front of the SUV with her hands loose at her sides, watching me. I didn’t know why I felt so relaxed, especially since I wasn’t sure what they really wanted, but I looked Radcliff over. She was small of stature but her sheer presence and attitude made up for her size. She had shoulder-length red hair, and intense blue eyes that flicked over me just as quick as I looked her over. If it was a contest, I was sure she would recall more details.

She turned and went to the only door on this side of the building. I followed her and Agent Bolson followed me. Part of me felt as if I was venturing into a lion’s den when I passed through the door, but I maintained my cool. The door led straight into a hall with several doors.

Radcliff opened the third one on the left and looked at me. “Have a seat, Mr. Connors. Someone will be with you soon.”

I don’t know what made me do it, maybe a sudden need to relieve my own tension, but I looked up at Bolson and said, “Could you get me something to drink, Lurch? I have a feeling I’m going to be here for a while.”

He started at me without reacting and I was disappointed not to get a groan.

I walked in the room and looked around. It looked like any interrogation room: a table with several chairs, hard brick walls painted white, small windows up next to the ceiling, florescent lights, and a large mirror dominating one wall.

I didn’t look at myself in the mirror back at my apartment, except to shave and brush my teeth. Seeing myself in this one made me want to preen, but I held onto my dignity. After all, everyone knows there are not only detectives on the other side watching but video and audio recording equipment catching every detail so the police could go over it again and again, analyzing everything with the most sophisticated software available to them.

Instead of giving them a show, I sat down on the side of the table opposite from the door.

Along with all of the cliché details, I wondered how long I would have to wait before they decided to talk to me. I pulled out my cellphone and found an app that did what I wanted: a timer. Once it was going, I set the phone on the table face up. They would see it and either react or not. Once in this room, I knew I would have to wait. They hadn’t arrested me but if they thought I had done anything, they would try to get me to confess to it. Too bad it would be a waste of time.

I thought about what I would tell them, and what I hoped I wouldn’t have to go into detail about. My phone showed fifteen minutes and ten seconds had passed when the door opened and Special Agent Radcliff came in. I saw Agent Bolson standing next to the door, but he was acting more like security than a special agent, which made me curious about him.

Agent Radcliff set several folders on the table across from me and sat down. She stated the date and time out loud, and then said that this was an interview with me, but she didn’t mention what this was about.

I blinked at her when she paused. I didn’t like the way she was leading into this, and something in the back of my head screamed a warning.

Radcliff opened the top folder, pulled out a photo, laid it on the table in front of me, and asked, “Do you know her?”

It was Francine. I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Where do you know here from?”

“School,” I said, but no more.

Radcliff set the top folder to her right, opened the next folder, and set it to the left. There were three more folders to go. I spotted my picture in the second folder. It looked like a blowup of my Driver’s License photo. It was good to know the photos had more than one use. “You are a full time student at the University of Texas at Arlington, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Your major is Architecture, correct?”

“Yes.”

She glanced at the other folder. “Francine is a student at the same University, but she studies Interior Design. None of your classes match, you don’t share professors, instructors, or lecturers. She’s a member of the Sorority, Alpha Chi Omega, but you’re not a member of any fraternities. She’s a sophomore and you are a freshman.” She looked up. “So, tell me, Mr. Connors, in what way do you know her through school?”

I never blinked. “She ran into me the night I arrived on campus.”

Radcliff narrowed her eyes. “She ran into you?” She made it a question, as if she didn’t believe me. Then she glanced at the open folders but didn’t do anything with them. It was a gesture to help her recall the details she had probably memorized for this interview. “There’s no report...”

I shook my head. “You misunderstand. She didn’t hit me with a car, but she did run into me, quite literally, on foot.”

“Where were you when this happened?” she asked.

“I had just left the girls’ dorm, Brozos House, after getting corrected directions,” I said. “This is a little backwards. Let me start from the beginning.” I told her about the cab driver dropping me off north of campus, getting directions from a stranger at a gas station, and finding out that I should have taken a right to get to my dorm rather than a left. “When I left their dorm, Francine came out of the shadows from University Center, and stumbled into me.”

“You said she ran into you,” Radcliff said.

“She wasn’t walking,” I said.

“What happened after that?” Radcliff asked. From her tone, she already knew something.

I arched an eyebrow and considered asking her what she knew, but she was playing this too close to the vest to tell me anything. Besides, regardless of the flavor of cop, they didn’t care to share their information with anyone, sometimes even each other.

I leaned forward and said, “She almost raped me.”

That got a reaction. Radcliff blinked and sat back. Then her brow furrowed and she sat up again. “Explain.”

“You mean elaborate,” I said, “Because what I just said should give you a good idea of what happened.”

She shook her head. “No, it does not. Explain what you meant by ‘almost raped.’”

There it was; the details I didn’t want to go into. Granted, I had had a lot of sex since that night but the memories were still there and they were still embarrassing. “She rubbed me off in my pants,” I said quickly, hoping that it would be enough.

Radcliff studied me, her intense blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You are easily twice her size. Do you really expect me to believe you let her knock you down and do that and you didn’t fight back? For that matter, you also expect me to believe you didn’t enjoy it?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She frowned harder. “I want the truth, Mr. Connors.”

“When she ran into me, I knocked her down,” I said. “But then she got up and did exactly what I told you. I stood there, out in the open, late at night, while she did that to me, and I do expect you to believe it.”

Radcliff formed a half-smile that never reached her eyes. “But you enjoyed it. What man wouldn’t?”

I held her cool eyes. “I didn’t. I was too scared to move or enjoy what was happening.”

She sat back, crossed her arms, and glanced at the mirror. She looked fairly young. Probably not long out of college and training at Quantico. Of course, some of that could have stemmed from her size. It was possible I was making her mad, claiming something only women usually claimed. Her voice was steady when she asked, “What could have possibly made you that scared?”

“Her father,” I said.

She chuckled and glanced at Francine’s folder. “Her father lives in San Antonio. He hasn’t been here since last year when he helped bring her stuff up for college. Why did he frighten you?”

“First, I didn’t know where he was. As far as I knew, he lived somewhere nearby. Second, just because she was the aggressor didn’t mean word wouldn’t reach him before it was twisted into something that hadn’t happened.”

Radcliff’s smile vanished, leaving her face the same steady mask of consternation she had been wearing when this started. “The information we have says something happened that night, but not in clear detail. Since Francine is missing, the only person to ask is you, and you’re not exactly convincing me of this.”

I had to get this spotlight off of me. “I thought you were investigating the disappearances in the area?”

She nodded. “That’s correct, but that does not preclude the possibility that one of the girls listed didn’t disappear under different circumstances which the other disappearances conveniently covered up.”

I held my hands slightly above the table and looked at them. “If I were under arrest for something I would be in cuffs.” I dropped my hands in my lap. “But I had nothing to do with Francine’s disappearance, so there’s no evidence to lead to that conclusion.”

“There’s no evidence yet,” she said.

“Then what about the next day?” I asked. “You asked me about a specific event, but I saw Francine again at a student orientation. The orientation started at five. When the representatives of the sororities and fraternities came out to talk to everyone, she was there too. We talked for a moment and then I left. The last thing I saw was her talking to two other girls.”

The center of Radcliff’s brow was folded into a thin line. “We spoke to the students who talked to her at the orientation.”

I shrugged. “There you go, because the next time I saw her was the next day, on the news. She was being reported missing.”