Moira Crane is an English teacher at the high school. Shortly after her phone is stolen, she finds herself embroiled in a nightmarish reality. She’s been accused of murdering her five close friends, other teachers with whom she worked. Unfortunately, the detective in charge of the case has been dating Moira.
His boss, Lieutenant Ritchie joined Rhys in the hallway. “My office.”
Rhys followed his lieutenant to the large, glassed in room. Ritchie closed the vertical blinds before rounding on his detective.
“You’ll recuse yourself immediately, Detective Fletcher.”
“I can do this, sir. This is my case.”
“Now it’s someone else’s. If you’re in charge, the DA can kiss it goodbye. Chain of evidence is tainted. You don’t want me to remove you. That would get ugly.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’re shtupping the prime suspect in this case.”
“We’re not having sex, sir. And when I asked her out, she was a victim, not a suspect. Her only crime was getting involved with Nestor Montoya. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s behind all this.”
“Why?”
“To get back at Moira for leaving him.”
“You really think he’s that petty?”
“Have you read the jacket on Montoya? He’s fucking crazy. I don’t mean amusingly eccentric like my Great Uncle Boyd who thinks he’s Santa Claus. I’m talking bat-shit crazy—violently so. I have to stay on this, Lieutenant.”
“Make me a good case, Rhys.”
“To protect Moira from Nestor Montoya.”
“Other people work in this department, son,” Ritchie said gently.
“They don’t have my unique background, sir.”
There was a long pause. Rhys stood quietly, waiting. He watched the lieutenant’s face go through emotional jumping jacks.
“A defense lawyer could rip you to shreds based on the kiss and the dancing alone. Any evidence would have to be irrefutable so a judge can’t throw it out.”
“Then we’d better get irrefutable evidence, sir.”
“I’ll let the interview continue. But I withhold the right to jerk a knot in your ass at any time.”
“Yes, sir. I respectfully request that additional security be added to the station.”
“Why?” Ritchie’s eyes narrowed.
“Because I think Montoya is crazy, arrogant and stupid enough to come at us. At least here we can see him coming.”
The lieutenant leaned over the over the desk as he eyed his detective. “Are you telling me what I think you are?”
Fletcher’s chin came up his face guarded. “Depends on what you think—sir.”
“You arrested that girl to protect her. You don’t think she’s guilty, you think Montoya’s after her. Why didn’t you just put her under our protection?”
“I think further interrogation will reveal that, sir.”
“Son, you’re crazier than Mazie. Fine, you talk to her. But if you haven’t noticed, boy, that girl hates your guts.”
“Better that than dead,” Rhys mumbled.
© 2016 Dellani Oakes
Dellani Oakes 
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