Suspected

“Good Evening, Mr Jacobs.” The detective walks in and sits in front of me. He is an older man, looks around mid 50s with his hair greying all over. The stress is written across his face no matter how much he tries to play off that he’s handling it. No one who has come close to this has been dealing with the stress healthily, yours truly included.

“I’m sorry to have you dragged down here again, but there’s been some developments in the case.” His eyes stare deep into mine. His gaze is more concrete and serious than I’ve ever seen it. I feel my throat dry, and my hands begin to shake. I tuck them under the table before he has the chance to see them tremble. “It has come to our attention that there was a party being held on the night of the disappearance. We would just like to cover all bases and ask everyone some questions.” His lips thin into a cold smirk as he tries to add a tight smile to the end of his sentence.

“And you’re interrogating ALL of us?” I ask as I look for honesty in his eyes. He looks behind himself to the two-way mirror where there are undoubtedly half a dozen more officers watching this interrogation. He turns back to me, opens the file in front of him and flips through a few pages before throwing a picture in front of me.

“Do you recognise this vehicle, Mr Jacobs?” I look down at the photograph in front of me and my stomach drops. I try not to let it show on my face as I cough and look up at him again. I shake my head in response hoping he believes me. He takes a deep breath and leans forward to me. “Look kid, I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me,” He whispers, volume low enough for only the two of us to hear him. He then leans back and stands up. His footsteps echo as he paces around the table and walks behind me. “Let me ask you again,” his voice makes me jump, volume significantly higher now, “do you recognise this vehicle?”

“Are you interrogating all of us?” I swallow my nerves and repeat my question from earlier. He stops his pacing and turns to me. I hold my stand and stare him down. He makes his way back to the table and sits in front of me. He leans back and crosses one leg over the other. That’s just telling me that he’s getting comfortable, and we will be here a while.

“If I answer your questions, will you answer mine? Does that seem fair?” He tone has softened a bit as if he’s just remembered he’s speaking to a teenager. I slowly nod as we catch ourselves in another stare down. He lets out another deep breath. “Ok, at this current point in time, we are only interested in speaking with two of you.” I frown and confusion fills my thoughts. I wonder who the second person is and why I’m even one of them.

“So, do you recognis—”

“Who’s the other?” I cut him off before he gets the chance to ask me. He raises his finger and shakes it at me.

“That’s not our deal. I answered your question and now you answer mine,” He shoves the photo in my direction, and I look down at it. Staring intently, of course I recognise it. How can I not when I was supposed to be driving it next month? But it was meant to be a surprise, and no one was supposed to know about it. I hold down a gulp as I look at Detective Sanders again. I shake my head again and follow with a strong but shaky, “No." He takes the photo back and shakes his head. Out of disappointment? Frustration? Anger? Probably all three. He can tell I’m lying. He can tell and he’s trying to think of how he’s going to get me to crack. I rack my head for who else they could’ve called in to interrogate as I make a noise to get Sanders’ attention. Then, there’s one name in my head who it could be. The only other person who had access to that car.

“Are you talking to Janet too? I look back up at the detective then back down to the table. He stays silent for a long time so I glance back up and he’s already staring at me. His eyes have narrowed at me and his gaze makes me feel small. It intimidates me even though I’m trying to not let it show.

“Now, why would you ask if we were speaking to her?” He places both elbows on the table and leans forward. At the same time, I lean back in my chair. Trying to keep that distance between us. Pretending that if I can maintain the metre or so between us, he won’t be able to catch my lies.

“No reason, she’s just the first person I thought of.” I lie. Hoping that he’ll believe it. I feel sick to my stomach. The nerves and stress both taking their toll on me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I hear Sanders clear his throat so I bring my attention back to him.

“See, I don’t believe you Danny.” He says nonchalantly. He stands again with the photo in his hands. “How could you have possibly guessed that the only other person we asked to come in was Janet?” I keep my head down and avoid his gaze. “You see, it could’ve been a coincidence. But you know what thirty years of being a detective taught me, Danny?” He waits for me to look at him before he continues, “There are hardly any coincidences when it comes to a murder investigation.”

“Maybe this is the exception that proves the rule?” I retort quietly. He doesn’t appreciate the backtalk as he slams the photo down onto the table and I jump from the suddenness. He looks at me with anger noticeably clear in his eyes.

“If this is a coincidence, then tell me why after seeing this damn car, that was intended to be your birthday present in a matter of weeks,” he points to the picture in front me and pulls out more photos of it being pulled from the lake, “and finding out we are interviewing one of your friends, how is it that the very first person you assumed we were interviewing was the owner of trace DNA evidence found in that very same car? Along with two other people. You know who those two people are, Danny?” I can’t bring myself to answer him anymore. “The other DNA we found belonged to you and our victim.” I look up at him, my composure slowly breaking.

“Want to tell me what you and Janet were up to?”

“Why am I here?” I ask immediately as the detective walks into the room. The clicking from the heel of her boot echoes through the room. She looks at me and smiles. Tries to, at least. It comes off as a forced scowl if anything. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ears as I lean forward and repeat my question, “Why am I here?”, this time raising my voice.

“Please, Miss Kim. There is no need to yell.” Detective Mera calmly responds. She sits across from me and grabs a file out of her bag. She places the folder on the table and pulls a photo out of it. She looks at it first, and then her eyes dart up to look at me. But she’s not actually looking at me. I realise, she’s looking at my hair. I anxiously tuck more of it behind my ears. Thick strands fall astray as I try to tuck too much at once.

“You have lovely hair, Janet.” She says as she nonchalantly touches her own. The dark auburn locks hang off her shoulder in a short but serious bob. “When’s the last time it was cut?” Her voice is deceptively friendly and the forced scowl has now morphed into a thin smirk. “Surely, a girl with your social stature always tries to keep up with the latest styles.” She’s now put the photo down and has her full attention on me.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, voice no louder than a whisper. I don’t see what the relevance is to anything and why I’m here to be asked about my hair. She ignores my questions but as she goes to ask another, I interrupt, “Can you please just tell me what I’m doing here?” I plead with her. She lets out a sigh and sits up straight, her demeanour changing almost immediately.

“Janet, some things have been popping up. Particularly things about you and your friends that we just have to investigate. See, one of my jobs as a detective is to figure out when a suspect is lying to me or playing the fool. And you, Janet,” She points her finger at me causing me to quietly gulp, “you’re doing both.” Her eyes are fixed on mine and are more serious than I am used to.

“So I’m going to need you to stop acting like the dumb popular girl and tell me when did you get your hair cut?” She exaggerates the end of that question as if she already knows the answer. I stare back at her and swallow the words that threaten to come up. I lean back in my chair and bring my hands together on my knees.

“Fine, I think I got it cut about two Thursdays ago. It was at Madame Cuts, in the mall.” I tell her. Whatever she has on me, I won’t be pressured into saying anything incriminating. She nods and writes something in her notepad. “Why do you keep asking about my hair?” I ask her, trying to steady my voice.

“I’m asking because we found a vehicle in the lagoon, Janet. The very same vehicle we believe was used to transport the body.” She looks at me and tilts her head slightly. I go to open my mouth but she holds her hand up before I get anything out. “Now before you ask me what the connection is, we found some trace DNA in that vehicle. Three separate samples. One to the owner of the vehicle, one to the victim and a third we just couldn’t figure out.”

My stomach starts to twist as my mind catches up and begins to piece everything together. Danny’s birthday present. Taking it for a spin when we weren’t allowed just because we found the keys. “And you see,” Mera’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts, “we were stuck on that third sample for a while. We had no idea where to look. Because it wasn’t familiar.” She pulls another photo out of the folder but shows this one to me. “Does this look familiar?” Her words echo in the background as I see the picture of a long strand of blonde hair.

“Looks like a piece of blonde hair.” I shrug my shoulders and play it off as if its nothing. Mera nods in front of me and digs through her folder again. This time I see her pull out a few photos, maybe about three.

“That’s exactly what it is. So we looked back at who we knew had blonde hair. Obviously, Mackensie and Taylor do,” she lays out a photo of each girl, “but they didn’t match the sample from the car. So, we looked elsewhere until we came across this.” She lays the third photo in front of me and now everything makes sense.

“You said you got your hair cut around two weeks ago?” I nod, “What’s interesting is that this photo is dated around three weeks ago” She pushes the picture towards me. “Care to explain, Miss Kim?” I look up at her and find the words caught in my throat. I stare at the photo and see myself staring back at me. A mirror selfie taken on the night of the party. My beautiful, long, blonde hair swept back in all its glory.

“Now why would an innocent person cut and dye her hair simply days after posting this picture with the caption “Perhaps blonde may be a permanent change”?” I stay silent as she continues talking. “What caused you to change your mind and make that decisions days after the disappearance? And why does your hair match the blonde hair we found in the car?”

I look up at her with wide eyes. “No, that has to be a mistake. I changed my hair because I just wasn’t feeling it anymore, ok? There’s nothing more to the story and certainly nothing like what you’re insinuating.” I push the photo back towards her and let out a scoff. I pretend to be frustrated so she doesn’t realise how nervous I actually am.

“We ran a test to see if the hair matched, Janet,” Her voice quiet now, “you already know what the result is.” She collects the photos and looks me in the eyes. For once, an earnest look behind them. She reaches out her hand and gently grabs my arm. “Tell me what happened and let me help you.” Her voice sounds sincere but something inside tells me not to trust her. So I push her hand away and sink further into my chair.

“I want my parents and my lawyer.”