TITLE CHANGED: PREVIOUSLY KNOWN AS FORCED
In the realm of love, there are the tales of love at first sight and the slow burn of affection after getting to know someone. However, our hero found himself caught in the midst of a unique journey - he fel...
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"Will the morning ever come?"
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The suspect slammed his hand against the interrogation table, sending a sharp metallic clang through the room that heightened the already palpable tension.
"Why don't you understand? I did receive a call from the police," he asserted, his voice thick with frustration.
"Mr. Walls, your call history has been thoroughly checked," the officer responded crisply, his gaze fixed intently on the suspect. "The last call you received was from your son, just before you arrived at the scene where your wife was found deceased. Are you suggesting he told you about his mother's death?"
"No, no, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Mr. Walls stammered, his agitation evident as he shifted uncomfortably, the handcuffs chafing against his wrists. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.
"Are you having difficulty hearing me, or do you need a moment to think?" he snapped, a mix of impatience and frustration colouring his tone. "I received a call from the Police, I'm certain of it."
"There's no record of any such call at the time you mentioned. Not from the police station, nor from any unknown numbers," the officer countered, his voice steady but sceptical. "How do you explain that?"
"I don't know how it's not there, but I'm telling you, the call happened!" His voice trembled as confusion swirled around him like a thick fog. "I'm just as confused as you are. Someone's setting this up... setting me up."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper, laden with despair. "I've told you everything I know. I can't make sense of any of this." He paused, his throat seeming to tighten. "I swear, I'm not hiding anything. I also want to find out who did this to her."
He looked up, his expression haunted as he concluded, "Someone's playing a very dangerous game, and somehow, I'm caught right in the middle of it."
Watching from behind the one-way mirror, James ran a hand through his hair, his own frustration mirroring that of the suspect.
"Alright, what were you up to the day before yesterday?" The officer pressed on.
"The usual. I went to work, stayed late, and then returned home," he replied, his words measured, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
Behind the mirror, James turned to Mohsin. "No incoming calls. What do you make of that?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he studied every movement of the person on the other side of the mirror.
"It's strange, isn't it? He's either lying or someone's gone through a lot of trouble to erase it." Mohsin replied, standing close, his voice low and contemplative.
