Walking down the drab gray halls of the police station, I led the officers dragging the piece of shit to the interrogation room. Our footsteps echoed through the hall, reminding me that we were the only ones in this section of the building. We passed a few other officers, but they paid no mind to us. There wasn’t a reason too since they’ve seen people that committed even worse acts than that piece of shit walking down the halls in cuffs. 

The door to the interrogation room popped into view after turning the next corner. I opened the door, and the officers brought the piece of shit into the room. Inside the room was a single table in the center of the room. Three chairs surrounded the table, one chair on one side, and two on the other. Two cameras captured film inside the room, recording every action, every sound, and every little rustle of clothing when criminals inevitably lose their nerves.

On the farthest wall from the door, a massive one-way window stuck out from the wall. On their side, all they could see was their reflection, but the other side was a different story. In the room connected to them only by a thin sheet of glass, were several officers and three criminal psychologists. The officers were merely there to keep watch of both sides of the window. The psychologists were the real meat of the operation.

Using their vast knowledge of body language, the human mind, and the voices, they would use that to help determine if the one being interrogated is hiding anything or not. Unlike the popular belief that criminal psychologists can magically tell when someone is guilty, what they actually do is just add more evidence rather than one hundred percent nailing down their guilt. 

The officers sat the piece of shit down on the single chair on the opposite end of me, took off his cuffs, then made their leave. I sat on one of the two chairs afforded to me and noticed the three files on my side. I grabbed one and flipped through it, reviewing my material and what it is exactly I’m working with. Despite there being three files, there wasn’t much to work with in questioning. That made things harder but surely was far from being impossible.

The piece of shit looked at one of the cameras and shivered. He turned to the window and squinted his eyes. There were zero chances for him to see the other side, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was being watched from the other side of it, even when he couldn’t see who was watching him.

“Are you gonna ask me anything?” Thomas asked.

I shook my head. “I want to get this underway, but I need to wait for my partner to arrive.” As soon as I said that, the door burst open and Richie walked in with an out-of-place grin. 

“Sorry, I’m late. I was doing other things.” Without elaborating, he sat next to Jessica and held his hand out for Thomas to shake. Thomas hesitated for a second, but he took Richie’s hand and they shook it out. “Nice to meet you, Thomas. Most people call me Officer Hark, but you can call me Richie.”

Thomas turned his head toward me after placing his hand by his side. “I’m guessing he’s the good cop in this scenario.”

“Not really. He’s just naturally like that.” Jessica opened the first file. “Now we can begin.”

Thomas took a deep breath and sat straight in his chair. I leaned forward while Richie slouched, making himself comfortable. 

“September 5th, 4:53 AM, the bodies of the two news anchors, Ms. Deens and Mr. Franks were found behind a rundown nightclub in the Poorman district. While we were there, we managed to find a piece of evidence pointing us in your direction.” 

I took out a picture from the file and tossed it to the center of the table. Thomas looked down at the photo containing the picture of a black jacket that looked all too familiar. 

“This is the same black jacket that you and your gang wear, am I correct?” 

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. Just because we have a similar aesthetic, doesn’t mean that’s one of our guys' jackets. There are a fuck ton of black jackets out there.”

“Well but you see,” Richie spoke up in a terrible British accent. “The jacket in the picture has obviously been customized.” Richie took out another photo of the jacket, only this one was zoomed into a specific spot. “Would you care to look at this?”

Thomas looked closely at the picture tossed to him. On the back of the jacket was a bald eagle embroidered with the caption, “Land of Freedom.” 

“We’ve taken our time to check other jackets with this style of design, and this one stood out from the others. Not only is the eagle sewn on by needle and thread instead of printed, but the text is rather plain. If this were made by a company, the text would have some sort of flair to match their brand, whether it be a unique font, or how the text is presented. This looks as if someone typed words on a doc.”

I took out another photo from the file. After showing it to Thomas, his eyes narrowed and focused directly on us. 

“In this photo is one of your men right? What was his name again?” 

Thomas looked down at the photo one more time. “Jan. He’s one of my right-hand men.” 

“And would you look at the design on the back of his jacket?” I pointed at the picture. “Isn’t that the exact same design as the other photo?” 

Thomas reluctantly nodded his head. I grabbed the photo of Jan and pushed the picture of the jacket closer to him. 

“And whose jacket might this one be?” Thomas opened his mouth, but before he could answer I shushed him. “Before you answer that question, you can’t lie to me. We already have the DNA analysis, but we need you to confirm it for us.” I pushed the picture closer to him. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow and wet the collar of his jacketless shirt. “Whose jacket is this?”

Thomas grumbled under his breath something unintelligible. 

“Speak up man,” Richie said. “We can’t exactly hear you if you’re whispering.”

“That’s my jacket,” Thomas said.

Richie and I waited a few seconds for him to do anything else. Instead, he remained silent after confirming that the jacket was indeed his. I sighed, disappointed by his answer. In truth, we hadn’t received the DNA analysis yet. The question wasn’t even meant to get him to admit if the jacket was his or not. It was supposed to get him to act in a way that would suggest he was trying to hide the identity of the owner. Whether it was his or not was irrelevant. It was his actions that they needed to ascertain, but the way he behaved, it’s almost too calm for a guilty man.

This time, it was Richie’s turn to take the reins on the questioning. He sat up straight and leaned forward, trying to make eye contact with Thomas. Thomas didn’t exactly make it easy with him staring toward his feet.

“Now that we know that’s your jacket, and your jacket was at the scene of the crime, what we need to know now is why it was there. Where were you during the time of the crime?”

Thomas refused to tear his eyes away from his feet, but despite his uncomfortable position, he spoke clearly and concisely. It was almost as if he were intentionally trying to send the wrong messages.

“I was where everyone else was at four in the morning. Asleep in bed. If you want to know where I was before then, I was at home catching up on some television. After four, I went to work.”

“So you’re telling me that your jacket just magically appeared there?” Richie pushed further.

Thomas shrugged. “I know it couldn’t have magically gotten there. In fact, it had gone missing from my wardrobe the day prior.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said. “Next thing you’ll say is that bloodstain on the shirt had been there after cutting yourself while slicing an apple the day before.”

“Actually yes, I was about to get to that.” Thomas laughed at his questionable sense of humor. “I’mma be real here, I don’t know how my jacket got there, and I don’t know who snatched it from me.”

“Who knows,” Richie spoke up. “Maybe it was one of your buddies from the bar?” 

Thomas’ eyes darted toward Richie. He looked as if he wanted to say some choice words, but stopped himself at the last moment. Taking a deep breath, he responded to Richie’s accusation. 

“It ain’t one of my crew. They wouldn’t do something like that.”

I took note of every aspect of how Thomas had just behaved. He sat straighter, making himself look much taller than he had previously. Before he slumped down, trying to come off as unthreatening, but just mentioning his men made him try to intimidate us. His eyes narrowed and his brows were furrowed, probably suggesting a clouded mind, overcome by desperation. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that he was hiding something from us. 

“But if it wasn’t your crew, then you had to be the one there,” Richie pressed further. Thomas’ imposing figure may have cast a shadow over them, but Richie cast a shadow over Thomas’ mind. “Unless if what you’re saying is that someone had gone into your house, searched through your wardrobe and came upon your jacket, then went out to murder someone and pin the blame on you, someone they hadn’t met and wouldn’t have any motive to impersonate you in a crime. Not to mention to make it look exactly like the other murders that have been popping up left and right.”

They both eyed up each other, Thomas gazing into Richie with a mix of anger and confusion, while Richie’s eyes only showed the gaze of an inquisitive mind. It was in moments like this that I had to admit that Richie got into this job for a reason. On the outside, it may seem like he’s nothing but a brute of a man, but inside that thick skull of his was intelligence that could rival some of the greatest minds of our time. 

“So, what’s your answer to that one. Were you there, were your men, or some stranger?” I said.

“Thomas, please answer our question. With this jacket, we can pin you at the scene of the crime, so if there is someone you know that may have it out for you in any way, tell us now.” Richie coyly wrapped Thomas around his fingers with the precision of a decade-long master. “Please just tell us.”

We stayed quiet, giving him time for him to sift through his ever-raging emotions and thoughts. If I were in his position, I know I’d be thinking a million miles a minute, so even though I hated him with every ounce of my being, I could sympathize with him just this once. 

Thomas sighed and nervously picked at his beard. “Fine. If you want to know what really happened, I’ll tell you.”

I looked over at Richie and he looked back at me as well. I knew he’d break sooner or later, but the way he talked unnerved me. He was calm. Way too calm for the situation. Did that mean what he said was the truth and nothing but the truth, or was he just an expert at masking his true emotions? Whatever the answer, it wasn’t her place to say. 

“I woke up much earlier than usual. I’ve been having headaches these past few days, and my dreams have been getting stranger and stranger. The most recent dream I had scared me awake. I tried going back to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, the dream rushed into the back of my eyelids.

“Instead of going to sleep, I decided on taking a nice walk. The wind was brisk, the temperature just right, and dawn poked its head into the city. As soon as I stepped outside, I knew it was the perfect weather to take a nice, calm walk.”

I listened to his story, and even though he didn’t pin down a time, I could get a brief idea of the setting just from his words alone. He had a strangely high vocabulary for someone who lived in such horrid conditions.

“After about half an hour of walking, I heard people screaming. Anytime I hear someone in trouble, I rush in to help without a second thought. That may not have been the brightest thing to do, but such reckless behavior hadn’t caught up to me until then. 

“I went behind the nightclub and saw someone hovering over the guy. What was his name, Mr. Franks?” Giving him zero answers, he continued the story. “Anyways, he was being brutalized and the chick beside him was far beyond gone.” Thomas paused for a second before continuing. 

“I couldn’t do anything but watch as that guy was murdered in front of my eyes. I wanted to step in and beat the shit out of the murderer, but my feet refused to move. Not only that but my entire body shook without my consent. It was almost like I had no control over what my body did. There was something about the murderer that made me almost too scared to fight.

“Eventually, I made a drastic mistake. Somehow, I managed to regain control over my foot and I took the opportunity. I stepped forward, ready to beat the shit out of that guy then call the cops. I yelled at the dude, and when I did he stopped beating the guy. He turned toward me just and fear overtook my body. It was almost like their very presence broke down all complex thought. The only thing I could think of was to run. 

“I turned to run, but the guy had caught up to me before I could even move. They grabbed my jacket, and thinking as quickly as I could, I shrugged it off and broke out into a sprint. They gave chase, but their footprints behind me only spurred me to move faster. After running for what felt like a mile, their footsteps were long gone, I stopped and took a breather.”

Richie raised his hand and Thomas froze. “So what happened to you calling the police? It wasn’t you that informed us of the murder.”

“Gimme a break, I nearly died. That’s what happened. Believe it or not, the story won’t change.”

“Can you at least tell me what they looked like?” 

Thomas shook his head. “No. They were wearing a hoodie the entire time so I couldn’t see their face. All I know is that they were pretty short.”

I sighed and looked over the files. Sadly there wasn’t much that they could bring up and hold over his head. After nearly two months of murders, that jacket was the only piece of evidence, and it was the only thing tying him to the murders. If they brought up anything else it would be irrelevant. I cursed myself that I couldn’t find anything more concrete to pin him down with.

He was involved with the murders, I knew it. However, they were just way too good at hiding the evidence which made it hard to pin them with anything concrete. I knew deep down in the bottom of my heart that the story had to be fake, but with the lack of any visual evidence, I couldn’t say for certain. Because of that, he could get off scot-free. Fuck legal loopholes and whoreshit. I wanted this bastard in prison.

“Alright, that’ll be all,” Richie said. 

An officer opened the door and held it for him. Thomas stood up and walked out of the room without turning back. I wanted to yell for them to stop and to bring his ass back into the room, but doing so could jeopardize my role in the case. There were already eyes on me, telling me to give up and be replaced by someone more competent. I couldn’t let them have their way, not just because I had gotten closer to solving this case, but because the case had become something more personal. 

My sense of justice refused to let anyone else take the helm of the case. Even if they replace Richie and me with someone else, I would continue the investigation solo, laws be damned. 

“You think there was something off about his story?” I asked Richie as he was getting up from his chair. 

“Maybe. We can’t really say for certain without reliable evidence.”

Even though Richie couldn’t poke holes into the story, I could, and easily. The only issue being I couldn’t ever bring up the holes without sounding like a lunatic. 

I’d become one hundred percent certain that the serial killer had to be one of Harmony’s species. She called herself a cubbi or something, but semantics be damned. Her kind was nothing but demons, end of story. Harmony certainly wasn’t the killer I was searching for. There were too many people claiming that she was at other places during the crimes. Not only that, but outside of her terrifying strength and agility, I couldn’t see her ending a life without a reason.

If the killer certainly was a demon then how did Thomas even manage to get away. They could move faster than the eyes could realistically comprehend. It would’ve been simple for the killer to kill him right at that moment without fuss. That way they wouldn’t have to risk their identity getting out. 

The interrogation was far from the end of this insane story. There had to be more that I could uncover, if just given enough time and resources, I could unearth any mystery. What I really needed at the moment was knowledge.

Gryphon

Psst. Hey, you. Yes you. You're finally awake. While you were asleep, I went ahead and rewrote a bit of the first two chapters of this story. I changed up a few things and will do that with the other earlier chapters as well. I may even rewrite most of the early chapters up to like chapter 15 or something. Just letting you know. Now I'm going to bed cause I've been up all fucking night. Goodnight.