11. Rayan Birsen
13. 09. 2018.
“Is everything alright?” Gersom asked me the moment I stepped out of the interrogation room. He was standing next to the mirrored window, his arms folded in front of his chest.
“Where is the sheriff?” I asked, stepping towards him. I placed my hands into my pockets and looked around, searching for the sheriff.
“He had something to take care of,” he answered, “He left me in charge.”
I rose my eyebrows before smiling a little. “Did you arrest Michael Pierson?”
He nodded. “Yes, officer Max has him sitting next to his desk.”
Gersom pointed to a desk placed in the corner of the station. The desk was covered with a bunch of papers that were, and never will be, put in place. Behind that desk, a blond-haired officer was sitting. His square jaw was set in such a thin line that I couldn’t even see his lips. His blue eyes were watching at me coldly when I was approaching his desk and the man that was supposed to be Michael Pierson.
“Good evening, officer,” I greeted officer Max but he shifted in his seat and glanced at Gersom. “Can I go now? My wife is already waiting for me,” he asked Gersom.
Gersom nodded his head. “Of course. See you tomorrow, pal.” He laughed a little, and padded officer Max on his back when he stood up. Max gave him a cold look before walking away from his desk. I guess that he doesn’t like Gersom, and with Gersom’s trying to make himself more likable, made him more unlikeable. He was trying too hard.
I returned my attention back to the man sitting on the small chair next to the desk. His black tracksuit was soaking wet from the rain, the bottoms of his pants, just like his old running shoes, were covered with mud. When I looked at his face, I saw a broken man. All those years of living with hatred given by other people made him age twenty years more. His grey eyes were sticking out under his high cheekbones. The wrinkles around his eyes exposed his true age.
“You must be Michael Pierson that I’ve heard so much about. I’m agent Rayan Birsen. It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled a little.
“What am I doing here? I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. I could smell the scent of cigarettes coming out of his mouth.
“We are just going to ask you a couple of questions, that’s all.” I glanced at Gersom who grabbed Michael by hand and harshly lifted him up. Michael stumbled in his feet, almost falling down.
“Where did you arrest him?” I asked Gersom.
“An officer found him at the local bar. He was at his tenth glass when he found him,” Gersom answered back.
Michael’s head was bowed down, his feet bearly keeping him upright. We made our way down station when I heard a familiar voice coming from somewhere in the room.
Turning around, I saw father Dan standing in the middle of the office. He was talking to an officer with a frown on his face. I could tell that he was displeased with something by the way he was standing with his arms crossed, and with that frown on his face.
Michael stopped in his tracks when his eyes caught father Dan. He immediately tried to break free from Gersom’s strong grip. “You son of a bitch!” he yelled, “You are the reason why I’m here! That time wasn’t enough for you, now you are trying to put me in jail for something I didn’t do!”
“Calm down,” Gersom said through greeted teeth. I took Michael’s other hand, trying to keep him in place, but for an old drunk, he sure as hell was strong.
My eyes went to father Dan who just stood there, watching Michael swearing and threatening everything he has. He didn’t seem bothered by his vail threats.
“Hold him down!” I yelled at Gersom.
“I’m trying!” he yelled back.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and a frightened John walked out with Amari walking behind him.
John’s eyes caught Michael’s for a moment before he found his uncle standing in the middle of the room, watching him. The young boy bowed his head in submission as he made his way to his uncle.
“Get him in there,” Amari said through clenched teeth. She pushed Gersom’s hand away, grabbed Michael’s arm, and helped me place Michael on a chair. Michael sat on the chair, his hands gripping the table in front of him.
“What the hell was that?!” Amari whispered to me after we released Michael from our strong grip.
“I have no idea,” I answered back as I walked to the door to close it. Before I closed the door, I saw father Dan talking to John in front of the exit. His hands were placed on John’s shoulder. John’s head was bowed down while his uncle talked to him.
“Birsen?” Amari called my name.
“I’m coming,” I said back.
Father Dan’s eyes caught mine and he nodded his head before he walked out with John beside him. There was something wrong with this priest. Something I can’t figure out yet.