CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - ODION

In the Detective's Den

Odion nibbled on his fingernails.

Who knew driving to a police station would conjure so much anxiety even when you weren’t convicted of any crimes?

The closer they got to the station, the harder he chewed. By the time they had arrived, his nails would’ve looked like they’d been through a cheese grater. Reminiscing about the last visit to the hospital only added to the stress he was already experiencing.

Sure, Marcella finally regained consciousness, but it seemed she had lost most of her memory. It was as if Odion was a ghost when Dr. Lamora finally called them in to see her. There was nothing behind Marcella’s eyes when Odion reached out to hold her hand. It was as fragile as anything he had ever felt before. Dr. Lamora said it’d take quite a bit of time before she’d regained her memories, but of course, being so lax about the situation, he never specified how long.

How in the world that thin little shit received his medical license was anyone’s guess. He was so nonchalant about the situation, just waltzing through his patients without a care in the world. It was any bet that if it’d been his mother in the hospital, he’d damn well make sure she was well looked after. Fucking asshole. Odion repeatedly opened and closed his hand into a fist, fighting off the urge to ram it through the window.

“You okay back there?” Yuricema looked at him in the rearview mirror, pulling into the police station.

Odion nodded, forcing a half-smile. “Never better,” he lied, not caring to hide it in his tone.

“Sweetie, I know you’re thinking about your mother right now, but Dr. Lamora and his team are doing the best they can.” Yuricema parked and turned off the vehicle. “It could’ve been a lot worse.” She turned around and gave him one of her reassuring smiles. “Let’s all be thankful she’s still alive,” she said before opening the door.

Yuricema and Serenity had been so hospitable, and he couldn’t thank them enough. Yuricema’s knack for always seeing the glass half full was to be commended; however, they didn’t see things the way Odion saw them. She never experienced what it was like seeing her best friend take their last breaths. She didn’t lose her home; she didn’t know what it felt like to be a ghost in her mother's eyes. They just didn’t understand. And it was so tempting to lash out at them for being so fucking naïve, but at the same time, it wouldn’t have been right since they were only trying to brighten his spirits.

Odion unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. He darted his eyes around the station and across the parking lot, taking notice of all the parked patrol vehicles. The fuck am I doing here? He sunk his head to the ground as he plodded toward the entrance.

The air inside the lobby was brisk. It was as though they’d just stepped into a refrigerator. A youngish-looking officer tended the front desk behind a bullet-resistant window with a tiny open circle underneath. He spoke to someone on the phone as two more officers lingered behind him, having an idle conversation with Tim Horton’s cups in their hands. All that’s missing is a box of sprinkled donuts.

The officer on the phone may have been in his mid-twenties if Odion had to guess, but his workspace was scattered with all sorts of documents, sticky notes, pieces of paper stapled and thumbtacked in front of him, and a computer monitor. Odion took advantage of his distraction and peered through the ballistic window, tweaking his neck to steal a couple of glances at some of the documents on the officer’s desk. There may have been information relating to Apollo.

“All right, I’ve got a couple of guests waiting for me, so I’ll speak to you later,” the officer said. “You got it.” He hung up the phone and drew a sigh of relief. “And how may I help you this afternoon, ma’am?” He looked at Yuricema and smiled. It wasn’t just any smile, though. It was one of those suave smiles men used on women they fancied. Odion perfected that smile so it was easily recognizable.

“Hello, I’m here to see Detective Matthews,” Yuricema said, almost as if she was asking a question. She, too, was probably thrown off by the officer’s unprofessionalism. Where did they find these douchebags anyway? “By any chance, would you know if he’s in at the moment?”

The officer nodded, licking his lips. “Mm-hmm, Officer Bishop would most certainly know if Detective Matthews is in his office at the moment.” He laughed to himself as he picked up the phone. Odion, Yuricema, and Serenity exchanged glances with one another. Why did this bozo refer to himself in the third person? “Was he expecting you?” the bozo asked, holding a finger over one of the buttons on the phone.

“Mm-hmm.” Yuricema nodded. “It’s regarding the Marcella Rosenbaum investigation.”

“All right, please have yourselves a seat,” he gestured to the row of chairs behind them, “and he’ll be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Yuricema said, lowering herself into one of the chairs. The officer smiled and turned away as he got hold of someone on the other line. The two officers lingering behind him exited through a secured locked door and gave them a courteous nod before heading outside.

“You’re shaking,” Serenity said, looking at his hands.

Odion folded them together over his lap, bouncing his feet. “I don’t even know why I’m here.” He looked at the different inspirational quotes hanging along the walls. Quotes about leadership and what it means to be a good leader, valuing citizens’ safety who are in need, and about courage and taking action in the face of fear.

Odion nearly gagged reading them because no officer showed any of that when on duty. At least not toward him, anyway. All of this was simply a reminder of how full of shit these uniformed gangsters were.

“You’ll be fine,” Serenity said. “Just relax and don’t forget to breathe.”

Odion turned his face to her, very unamused. “Easy for you to say when you ain’t the one being interviewed.”

Just as she was about to respond, a tall, black, broad-shouldered man appeared behind Officer Bishop. Odion buried his face into his palm and cursed. Please tell me he ain’t the detective. Odion lifted his head and stared disappointingly as he watched him host a conversation with the douche sitting at the desk. By the looks of him, Odion could tell he carried an assurance of command.

He possessed a hard face, one that rarely smiled. His eyes floated in their direction, peering purposefully upon Yuricema, himself, and Serenity. He was probably in his early to mid-forties, though he could’ve been older. He rocked a short fade, freshly cut, and had the crispest goatee Odion had ever seen. The goatee gave him an edge to his demeanor and made him look like a man used to giving orders and being obeyed.

The detective pushed open the security door. “So which one of you is Odion Biobaku?” He thoroughly looked at the three of them as he came closer. Yuricema and Serenity pointed him out as Odion slid down in his chair, folding his arms. “Okay, follow me.” The detective beeped his security keycard on the scanner and opened the door, holding it wide for Odion to pass through.

“Good luck,” Serenity whispered.

Odion rolled his eyes and followed Detective Matthews down a long, narrow hallway leading to an open area filled with various officers working inside cubicles and down another hallway leading into what looked like an interview room. The room was silent and relatively small. It carried only one mirror, two chairs, and a circular table in the center. The walls were painted plain white.

“Please, take a seat,” Detective Matthews said, pointing to one of the chairs. “I’ll be right with you.” He took a step outside, the door slowly clicking shut.

Odion rocked back and forth, squeezing his kneecaps tight, the thump of his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He wished he’d been smart enough to take out the bottled water he left inside Yuricema’s car. He moved his head toward the awkward-looking mirror to his right and narrowed his eyes. There’s something off about that mirror. Odion turned around and stumbled across a camera in the top corner of the room, staring directly at him as he sat impatiently until the detective returned. These pigs are probably spying on my ass right now.

“Keep all your answers short,” he muttered, wiping his clammy hands against his pants.

The door opened. “All right, young man,” Detective Matthews said, closing the door. He slapped a folder onto the table, and a few sheets of paper spilled out from it. Matthews sank into the chair across from him. Seeing him up close and personal, he was arguably the biggest man Odion had ever seen. The way his large arms and broad trapezius muscles stuck out from his fitted black dress shirt was crazy.

“Before we begin, I’m informing you we are being video recorded.” I knew it. Matthews pointed toward the mirror. “Behind the glass, there’s a camera filming us,” he said. “I’d also like to point out the two black dots you see here on the table,” he pointed to the both of them, which Odion hadn’t noticed until now, “are audio microphones, so if you’d like to speak, I’m going to ask if you can speak loudly and clearly into the mic. Do you have any questions so far?”

Odion shook his head.

The detective took out a pen from his breast pocket and opened the folder before him. He scribbled some notes on one of the pieces of paper stored inside the folder. “As I’m sure you’re already aware, my name is Detective Tyson Matthews, and according to the time on my watch, it’s two thirty-seven P.M.” Matthews extended his arm and pointed to the watch on his wrist. “Is that correct?” Odion looked at his watch to verify the time and nodded. “The date is Monday, July seventeenth, twenty twenty-three.” His pen moved flawlessly across the paper as he wrote everything down. “We’re currently at Gundam Regional Police Station 11 Division, ground floor, at Dunham Street and Stone Mills Parkway. Do you agree with that?” The detective paused from his writing and shot a hard look at him.

Odion folded his hands and nodded once again.

“For the purpose of this interview, I’m going to need you to provide me with your full name.”

“If you already know my name, why am I giving it to you again?” Odion asked. This already smelled like a setup.

Matthews set his pen down and folded his giant hands together. “Because it’s required by law that I must ask for your full name, particularly if it’s a video interview,” he said, his tone hard and firm as ever.

Odion made a disapproving sound with his mouth and rolled his eyes. “Odion Biobaku.”

Detective Matthews picked up his pen and started to write again. “What’s your date of birth and current full address?”

“July fourteenth, two thousand-seven. My current address is twenty seventy-nine Silvius Drive, unit twenty-four.”

The scratching of Matthews’ pen scribbling on paper cut the silence in the room for a moment. The detective already knew the answers to half the questions he was asking anyway. He was probably trying to see if he caught Odion in any lies. I see you, detective. Odion looked toward the mirror and cut his eyes.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asked while reviewing his notes. This has gotta be a trick question. Matthews looked at him as if he’d heard his thoughts, expecting an answer.

“Why do you keep asking me questions you already know the answer to?”

“It’s part of my job,” he said. “Do you have any siblings?”

Odion sighed. “One.”

“Brother or sister?”

“Twin brother,” Odion said, nearly raising his voice.

“Identical or fraternal?”

“Identical.”

“What’s his name?”

Who the fuck cares. “Apollo Biobaku.” Odion began to bounce his feet underneath the table. Just saying his name sparked a bolt of anger within him.

“How many of you live under the same roof?” Matthews asked.

“Just the three of us,” Odion said sourly, wishing it’d been a lie. Life would’ve been so much better had Apollo not been around.

“You, Marcella, and Apollo, is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“No father figure?”

“Nah.” Odion shook his head.

Detective Matthews remained silent for a long moment, going back and forth between each sheet of paper on top of the table. “Where were you the night your foster-mother was found lying unconscious on the ground in front of your home?”

Odion worked his mouth around for an answer. “In the washroom.”

“The washroom?” Detective Matthews narrowed his eyes. Oh shit! Odion realized what he’d said and regretted it. “Which washroom?” Matthews wrote a few notes down.

“My school’s washroom,” he muttered, rushing a hand to his face.

“Which school do you go to?”

“Look, bruh, I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” Odion leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Detective Matthews looked into his eyes speculatively and set his pen down against the table. “I understand what you’re going through is difficult at the moment, but I’d really appreciate it if you cooperated with me.”

“You keep asking me questions you already know the answer to,” Odion said, furrowing his brows. “I know you and your man’s done research on me. You damn well know I attend Sauga Valley Secondary School, and yet you sit there pretending as if you haven’t the faintest clue of where I go to school.” His heart screamed in his ears. Matthews stared at him for what felt like a good two minutes before picking up his pen again to write. “And before you ask me about what happened, no, I don’t know who did it.”

“Funny you mention that because according to the information gathered by my team,” he shifted his eyes toward another sheet of paper from his folder, “it appears on the night of Saturday, June twenty-fourth, there happened to be a shooting that took place at Sauga Valley Secondary School at around ten-thirty P.M.”

“But like I said before, I don’t know who did it.” Odion reasserted himself.

“Never said you did,” Matthews said. “But by your own admission, you were present at school when the shooting took place, no?” He raised his eyebrows. “You were in the washroom.” He lifted the sheet of paper he was writing on. The bastard got me. “What were you doing inside the washroom when all of this took place?”

“I had a migraine,” Odion said, looking away toward the floor. You want me to come with you? The water in his eyes began to develop as he remembered some of Toki’s last words. “I thought I was gonna throw up.” He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yo, are we done here? I don’t wanna talk about this no more.”

“I understand this is hard for you to deal with, but stay with me,” Matthews said. “In your opinion, what is it you believed triggered your migraine?”

Images of Serenity dancing with Salamar crashed into his thoughts. “I don’t know,” Odion said, shaking his head.

“Did you end up throwing up?”

Odion shook his head.

“Was there anyone else inside the washroom with you, or were you alone?”

“Alone.”

“And what happened next?”

Odion looked at him absentmindedly. “What do you mean?”

“When you exited the washroom, what happened after that?”

“I was heading home.”

“You were heading home?” Detective Matthews asked as he continued to pen notes on the sheet of paper. “And did you hear or see anything, any type of commotion that took place on your way home?”

For a split moment, Odion thought of his conversation with Serenity before the commotion took place in the hallway. “Just students running and screaming in the hall, trying to exit the school.”

The detective’s pen raced across the sheet of paper as silence befell them again. “And finally, did you personally hear any gunshots from your location before the commotion in the hall took place?”

Odion stared at the table. More images of Toki stormed into his thoughts, the way he gasped for air, the blood dribbling from his mouth, the look in his panicked …

“Odion,” Matthews prompted, “did you hear any gunshots from your location?” Odion shook his head quickly, and Matthews’ facial expression shifted from hard to I know you’re lying. He looked over his notes one last time before leaning back into his chair. “Okay, before I let you go, is there anything further you’d like to say in regards to the situation?”

Odion shook his head. “Nah.”

Matthews looked at his watch. “The current time is three o’clock. Is that correct?” He extended his arm and showed Odion the time to verify.
“Yeah,” Odion said.

Matthews gathered all the sheets of paper together and straightened them against the table. “Odion, have you been threatened in any way this afternoon?”

Odion shook his head. “Nah.”

“Have you been promised anything in return this afternoon?”

“Nah.”

“Do you have any complaints in the way in which I dealt with you this afternoon?”

Yeah, the fact you kept asking me all these dumbass questions you already knew the answer to. Odion sighed and shook his head again. “Nah.”

Matthews scribbled a few more notes onto another sheet of paper before stuffing them inside the folder. “All right, you’re free to go.” Odion couldn’t have gotten up faster as his chair scraped against the floor. Matthews pushed himself away from the table and reached for the door handle. “Don’t be surprised if you hear from me again within the next few weeks.” The detective laced him with an icy glare before opening the door.

Odion stared back into those brown slits he had in his eyes. “Whatever, bruh,” he said, marching back toward the lobby, the click of the door shutting behind him.

 

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