A First Love to Die For

Chapter Thirty-Seven- Unbelievable

(Lincoln's POV)

I sat in my car, smiling to myself like a fool. I should be getting myself ready to head into the station to watch the interview of a suspected serial killer.

As such, it was incredibly important that I wipe the huge-ass grin off my face, but it was easier said than done.

She wants to give us a second chance.

Last night had been incredible, my memories of how it had been with Josie had been wrong. It was all that I remembered and then so much more. How a total of two kisses had me walking around in an utter stupor was beyond my understanding.

Fucking unbelievable.

As I pulled into my parking spot I glanced at the time, it was 8:20 and we were reconvening for 9 o'clock this morning.

I would have time to make a pot of coffee and check in to see how the night had gone around town as well as in the station.

Sam had gone off duty just after I had left last night, that way he would be fresh to go in as Duncan's "good cop" this morning.

I wondered how Harold's night had gone and if he was still going to be singing songs of innocence this morning. Wanting to check in myself, I made sure to let my officers know that I would take care of his breakfast.

I took a moment to caffeinate myself and pour a cup for Josie, who much to my disappointment had not yet made an appearance. I was ready to get this show on the road.

I wanted this to be finished for a multitude of reasons. Predominately, so my townspeople were safe. But also, so that Josie and I could take the time to explore whatever was going on between us. Now that I knew she wanted to try again, it would be nice to reconnect without murder and monsters hanging over our heads.

I could see the grateful look of my staff as I put together Harold's plate and made my way to his holding cell. It wasn't much, some toast with butter and a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup. I cringed as his bloodshot eyes met my own and his hand shook a little bit as he took my offerings. I questioned if there was more than nerves bothering him.

Either way it was evident that he hadn't gotten much sleep last night and he eyed me warily. "What am I doing here Lincoln? I'm not perfect but I would like to think that you know I'm not a fucking killer."

I sighed, "I honestly don't know what to think Harold. What I do know is we have to chase absolutely everything down because I don't want any more dead girls on my watch. I'm not leaving any stones unturned and let's face it man, this is a big fucking stone."

His watery eyes met mine and I was surprised to feel a pull of sympathy for him. Rather than argue with me, he declared, "I can understand that."

He didn't say anything else, just took a quiet sip of his coffee and as I walked back to my office, I wasn't quite sure what to think. I didn't love the feeling residing in my gut.

I got back in my office, surprised and a little alarmed to see Josie's coffee cup sitting there untouched. I pulled out my phone, sending her a text to see her ETA.

I knew that Harold and his lawyer were conferencing now, so she didn't have much time.

The fact that Harold had understood and hadn't argued with me was flagging and I couldn't shake my concern. I had struggled with it being Harold all along. It was extra ridiculous because it wasn't even like I liked the man.

I had thought my doubt in it being him had stemmed from the fact that he was a Fenelon citizen. That I would struggle no matter who it was. However, the more I thought about it, the more I had to consider that I hadn't been sold on Harold being our man because the feeling just wasn't right. The tip, the bloody clothes in his trunk. It was all just too easy.

My gut was screaming at me that he was one big, giant patsy.

I looked at my unanswered message, my shoulders tensing with concern.

I rubbed at my temples, trying to ease the stress and got up. I'm sure I was worrying needlessly. She must be chasing something else down, we'd get started here and we would catch her up when she joined.

As I walked toward the observation room, Duncan stopped me. "Hey. I know we talked about this yesterday, but I still think Harold's innocent and I'd like to try something in there."

His eyes met mine. "I know that all suspects are different but the authentic shock coming off Harold yesterday makes me think he's not guilty of any of this and if he got set up, we need to figure it out fast so that we can track down our real killer."

The fact that I wasn't alone in my thinking, caused more tension to flood my body. "I've been thinking the same thing. He's just the "something shiny" so that we are focused on the wrong person. What do you have in mind?"

He shared his idea and got my approval before we separated, with me going into the observation room. I chose to stand, knowing that my nerves wouldn't let me sit. Harold and his lawyer were already seated when Sam and Duncan went in.

I stared through the glass surprised at who Sam had found for Harold. Melissa Greenley did not fit the stereotype at all, in looks or in personality. She looked more like a librarian than a public defender but she was a formidable lawyer. If Harold was innocent, I was glad he had gotten her.

It was evident that he felt it too because whatever had been said between her and Harold this morning, appeared to have calmed him down.

I felt bad for a moment knowing that his calm wasn't going to last but we had to get this over with fast so that our killer didn't succeed in distracting us.

With the introductions out of the way, they got right into it. "Harold, we have a few questions for you."

Melissa quickly interrupted, "Actually we'd love to start. Can I ask what gave you the right to search my client's house and his car? Didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to what made you decide it was Harold in the first place."

Sam began to stammer about the tip, but Duncan gave him a stern look to settle him before pulling out a handful of pictures from his file. He laid down the first and I watched both Harold and Melissa recoil. "I'm sure you are both aware that we have a serial killer in the area."

He continued to lay down picture after picture of the girls that we had found so far. "We had a tip phoned in that Harold was seen leaving Chantelle's house the night she was murdered. When we searched his car, we found the clothes she was wearing the night she was killed, in his trunk."

I kept my eyes on Harold. We had wanted to get a good look at his reaction. All of the women had been found in different states of decay. The photos were gruesome. Duncan's idea was to gauge his innocence based on how he responded to that level of gore.

His response was in line with our innocent theory, his face was one of rampant shock and as Duncan continued to lay down picture after picture, he forcefully gagged.

It completely aligned with my thinking. He was either the best actor I had ever seen in the box or the poor man was someone's scapegoat.

All evidence pointed towards a man that didn't have a strong enough stomach to be a killer.

Shit. We would need to confirm with alibis as soon as possible. But I knew we were right. We had the wrong guy.

The sound of the door opening had me tearing my eyes away from the interview in progress. The terror on the face peering at me, caused my own stomach to riot in a rush of nerves.