MONSTRXXS (Book 2, the Cryptid Chronicles)

Chapter 4

Jason stood up so fast he knocked over his chair. "That's bullshit!"

"You didn't know?" The detective arched an eyebrow.

Puffing out his chest, Jason said, "Of course, I didn't know because you're fucking lying. They wouldn't do that to me. No fucking way."

"I know it hurts." The detective kept his hands folded, ignoring Jason's theatrics. "I bet it hurts. Hurts like a bitch— which is why you killed him. I would've done the same thing in your shoes."

"Fuck off. I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth. Why don't you sit back down, and I'll show you a copy of their text messages."

"You ain't showing me shit." Jason remained standing. "Derek is not fucking my wife. No way."

Ruby smiled. "I beg to differ. We have Derek's phone. On it, we found proof of their year-long affair. Your wife has a butterfly tattoo on her left butt cheek, correct?"

"How do you know that? Did you talk to Kenny? They dated in high school."

"No. I didn't talk to Officer Spears. I know this because your wife sent Mr. Higgins, your cousin, nude photos along with illicit texts."

"Those could be faked."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Would you like me to describe her other body parts to you? Or I could read you some of your wife's texts to Derek. Lizzie seems to have a fondness for analingus."

"Fuck you!" Jason lunged across the table, scrambling for the detective's lying face.

Sheriff Detective Ruby was faster and stronger than his appearance would've suggested. And it was like he'd expected Jason to attack— he probably had. Because the second he moved, Ruby grabbed Jason's wrist and jerked him forward. Jason lost his balance. Ruby used his momentum to slam Jason's head against the table, stunning him. Stars danced before his eyes as he struggled to free himself from the detective's grip.

"Please don't do that again. I'd hate to have to add assaulting an officer of the law to your growing list of charges." Ruby let him go.

Jason rubbed his forehead. "What other charges?"

"First-degree murder, for one."

"I told you that goat-thing killed Derek. I would never do that, even if he was banging Lizzie. I loved him like a brother."

Falling back in his chair, Jason wiped at a tear. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep from shedding more, but it was hard. The night was catching up with him. He was tired. Hungry. His wrist hurt. His head hurt. And his whore wife was cheating on him with his cousin— if he could believe this detective, who, from his look of disgust, obviously thought Jason was lower than whale shit.

Confirming his thoughts, Ruby said, "So you really expect me to believe your Goatman fairytale?"

"I don't care what you believe, but you're not going to get me to confess to something I didn't do."

The detective shook his head. "Jason. Jason. Jason . . . "

"What?"

"Do you want to hear what I believe?"

"No. I don't. Because I know what's going on. You're trying to frame me."

"Jason, no one's trying to frame you. I only want the truth. And the facts in the case suggest that you discovered your cousin was diddling your wife, and you killed him. I get it. I wouldn't let him live, either. Not after he betrayed you like that— so you used your buck knife to slice his stomach open, and then when he was lying on the ground bleeding out, you stomped on his neck. Did I get it right? Was I close?"

"No. Not at all, so stop putting words in my mouth. I told you it was the goat-thing."

"Come on, son. A goat-thing, seriously? If you wanted to get away with murder, you should've come up with a better story than that."

"It's not a story."

"Whatever. Because if it was me, I would've kept it simple. I would've shot Derek and said it was an accident? Or pushed him out of the tree and said he tripped? There were a thousand things you could've said and done that would be more believable than a half-ass story that a monster killed Derek."

"Screw you."

"The only person you're screwing here is yourself, Jason, so why don't you tell me the truth? Then I can help you. I can talk to the prosecutor. Maybe she'll lower the charge to second-degree murder or possibly manslaughter. But first, we need to know the truth. What do you say, Jason? Talk to me."

Ruby was right. Jason's options were not great. Would a jury believe a goat-thing had killed his cousin? No. Not without the beast's body. And who could kill a monster like that to provide Jason the proof he needed? SEAL Team Six? A Predator? A god-damn Terminator? It would take something that badass to kill it because Derek had shot it with a high-powered rifle, and the thing had laughed it off like it was nothing.

Which meant he was screwed. Damn it all to hell! Maybe, Jason should admit he killed Derek in a fit of rage. Then he could plea down the charges to at least second-degree, and he might get out of prison in fifteen or twenty years. He'd still have some life left to live. Lizzie, his stupid slut of a wife, wouldn't wait for him, but there'd be some local floozy who would be turned on by an ex-con with a good story to tell. He could move into her trailer and have a kid or two before his wiener stopped working, and there were pills he could take if it did.

Before he could respond to Ruby's question and admit to something he didn't do, just so this nightmare would end, there was a knock on the interview room door.

It wasn't Kenny with the coffee or a jacket. No, it was a tall skinny guy who busted into the room. The disheveled man had wild hair and an ill-fitting brown suit with tennis shoes. An ugly green plaid tie completed his hideous ensemble. Coming to stand behind Jason, the man rested his hands on the accused's shoulders.

He said, "I'm Mr. Higgins's lawyer."

"You are?" Both Ruby and Jason said at the same time.

"Yes. And he won't be answering any morequestions."