Running, Megan Wick [top 10 books of all time .TXT] 📗

It was a small room. I didn’t like it at all. It was way too quiet for my taste. I watched as the cop made his way around the white blank table in front of me, stepping out from behind his cold metal chair. I wished my hand was free. I would have grabbed him and forced him to let me out of here.

But being little was a slight problem of mine. Even if I was free. Even if both hands were completely released from my restraints, I would have no effect on the cop. He had a team of men, ready to stop me. I knew they were there, standing, listening, watching from behind the deceiving mirror. They all had at least one gun on their person at all times ready to shoot if I just so much as make a slight move to cough. Maybe that was my way out of this God-forsaken room. I tried to tell the cop that I was cluster phobic; I couldn’t stand being in a room this small. It was going to fall in on me any second now. The walls would collapse and I would be lost in some sort of crazy parallel universe where I was innocent, where I hadn’t ever taken a life. A universe where I grew up as a child, not as an adult and even though all that sounded great, it just didn’t seem like I would still be me.

I was thinking too much. I was too busy letting my mind wonder, but of course all the while staring at my cop “friend”.

“Hey, no answer then? No lawyer? Just gonna sit there. If you talk to me I can help you. Denee (pronounced Deh-knee) would have died for a purpose if you just speak to me.” He sat down on the table next to my chair. He looked at me with fake concern on his face. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t even know Denee. He was just trying to get paid. To go home.

“You shut up. I don’t want to hear this. ANY of this. I wasted too much of my life sitting in here listening to you babble on anyway. Why don’t you get off your lazy ass and lead me to my cell?” I spat on the table so he would understand I am not to be messed with. I pack a big punch as Jess used to say. I may be short but that doesn’t mean my temper is long.

“If you want I can probably charge you with something else give us a little more time to get acquainted. I can charge you with assault on a FBI agent.”

“Amateur. I have been “grilled” by several cops, talented and far better than you.” His face frowned. He got up and yanked my chair back. I sat forward to balance it out. “Jackass.” I muttered as he let the chair jerk forward.

“You think I’m not strong enough to handle your little insults? You’re not all that tough. Sure you’ve slit the throat of a few bad people. That doesn’t mean anything to me. I know in my heart… that you’re going to stay in prison. You can rot there for all I care.” He grinned. I decided to have a little fun while I had the time. It’s not like I’m going anywhere soon. Not as long as they have the guns and I have the handcuffs- on.

“So, what are you doing here? You don’t have a ring on your finger so I know you’re not
married,” he moved his hand to rub the empty finger. “Why aren’t you out on a date with a woman?” There. I struck a nerve, I don’t know why that bothered him but all I knew is that it did.

“We’re done here.” He took a step in the direction of the silver door after a moment of silence.

“Bye.” I stated confidently. He stopped and turned towards me. He smiled. I knew he was
trying not to give me the satisfaction that I was obviously getting from his uneasiness. He left the room.

I watched the glass mirror. Maybe if I focus hard enough I will be able to see the movement behind the glass. There it is. I can see the cop. The one that was just in here. He is staring right back at me, intently. I slowly licked my lip to tease him and he moved away. Five minutes passed and the door creaked open. Slowly. A hand grabbed the edge of the door before revealing the person to which it owned. For a moment I was scared. A flashback.


The fingers slowly move around the edge of the door.

“Come on Jess. Just walk in. You’re not going to scare me.”

“Oh come on Sammi can’t you just let me have my fun?” He peeked his eyes around the corner
and smiled at me. “I love you babe.”

“Well I hate you.” I smiled at him.

“Wow, Sam you are such a terrible liar.” His goofy grin played games with my heart. “Well I will just have to spend some more time with you- to teach you how to lie and get away with it.”

“Hmm should I make an appointment? 3:30 sound good to you?” I laughed. He stepped into the room and sat on the bed. He leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. He looked at me with his bright blue eyes before staring at the ceiling. He was wearing a black v neck T-shirt and a pair of faded ripped up blue jeans. He had his chain on. At the end of the chain were two army dog tags and an engagement ring loose on the chain. He told me the story behind it so many times. A woman in Afghanistan wore it. His best friend, Daniel gave it to her. Daniel died the next day in a bombing. The day after the funeral she went missing. On the table in her room sat the ring. He took it. Held onto it hoping that one say she would find him and ask for it back. They were all good friends and he couldn’t bring himself to leave it there. He turned to face me and looked into my eyes.

“Denee gonna get back soon?”

“I don’t know. We had a fight…” My head dropped and I felt bad about what I said to her.


I look up to find myself still in that terribly small room. “You know you really should get them to make these things bigger.”

“Are you ready to talk yet?” The cop inquired.

“Yeah. I’ll talk. But first I want to know something about you. What’s your name?”

“Special Agent Adam Derrick Linberg.”

“Hey Adam, I am Samantha Ariel Grey but you can call me Sam or Sammi.”

“I know -”

“It’s a pleasure – sort of – to meet you.” I pressed on, if I was going to tell him what he wanted to know then he was going to play my game.

“Sooo. About Denee’s death...”

“What is your favorite color?”

“Focus Sam. Denee’s death. Did she kill Patrick?”

“Mine is purple. You do know that I am not going to answer your question until you answer mine.”

“Blue.”

“No.”

“What?” Oddly he was confused.

“No. Denee was innocent. She never hurt anyone. She wouldn’t even let me call an exterminator.”

“Okay, and I trust you’re telling me the truth right?”

“Absolutely, and you know… I am… not a murderer… I just let… my anger… get to me. And he…he…he really did get… what he deserved…” I stumbled on my words. For some reason I was compelled to explain that to him.

********

Good morning me. My eyes open to my one bedroom apartment and the cold touch of my hardwood floor under my feet. Time for work screams my alarm clock. My headache forces my hand to smack it for yelling so early in the morning, yet tonight I will set it again. I get up and walk over to my bathroom. My mirror shows my bedhead clearly. I look like I’m 37. I am supposed to be a young 26 year old man starting his career as a FBI agent. Starting might not be the best word. I have worked with the Bureau for almost five years now. I turn on the shower and leave the room. I walk to the kitchen and set the coffee pot up for another round. I look down at my counter. Sitting crooked on the edge is the folder I dropped there last night. It’s about a murder. I flip to the suspects section while I wait for the coffee and the shower to heat up. I scan the list. My eye caught a name. Samantha Ariel Grey. Convicted of one murder and charged for several others. I flipped the pages forward. She was so beautiful. I sometimes can’t help but to think what would have happened if this person stayed on the right track and walked away instead of going through with it.

“Beep beep beep.” Coffee is done. I close the folder and place it next to my suitcase. I pour myself a cup and leave to my bedroom to grab some clothes. I grab a dark pair of jeans and a red button up shirt. I soon forgot about the coffee and went to the bathroom.
The shower was warm. I set my clothes on the granite countertop and grabbed a towel out of the drawer. I took one last glance into the mirror. I was wearing baggy sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt. I turned around and began to strip.

The shower felt good. I dried off and put my clothes on. I shaved and then I grabbed some cologne. After remembering my coffee I hurried out with the folder in my hand. In my car the folder rode shotgun, staring at me throughout ever stop light. At one moment I opened it up to Samantha again. I pulled up and walked in, showing the men at the front desk my gun, then laughing I grabbed out my badge. In my hands I held my suitcase my coffee cup and the folder. I walked up to my office and dropped my suitcase on the floor next to my chair.

“She is in the interrogation room.” Jackie smiled and walked off.

“Thanks… wait. Who?”

“Her.” She pointed to the open folder at Samantha’s picture. I hadn’t noticed I had been staring at it.

Just the walk to the interrogation room was nerve racking. Jim couldn’t stop bugging me about the coffee in the break room. I open the door and stood in it for a second. Focus.

“I need to leave now.” She stated like she had a choice. One hand was handcuffed to the chair. “I’m cluster phobic. It is way too small in here.”

“I’m not going to let you out. If that’s what you want.”

“But you see that isn’t. I do want out. Of this room in particular.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that.”

“What are your arms physically incapable?” She snapped.

“No.”

“Well I don’t like your attitude. Good luck getting me to talk now.”

“What attitude?” She sat there