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Janey's Story

She knew he didn't want to talk about it but she still pressed on.

"So, what did you used to be?"

"A barista," he lied and it was obvious. He wore a sheepish grin that made him seem less scary. Not that he was already, it was obvious Stephen was the nicer one of the two, but his scar and past still made Janey sceptic.

"A barista, huh?" She let the words linger on her lips before tilting her head at him. "Nightshift?"

He nodded, proud at his lie.

"I'm like an owl. Tired during the day, wide awake at night. I was the best at my job."

"Then why did you leave?"

He froze. Clearly he hadn't though of that.

"Um... Well, what happened was... I... Something happened."

She cocked her eyebrow.

"What?"

He searched her eyes for something Janey couldn't quite tell but judging from the way he sighed and combed through his chopped hair with his stubby fingers, she knew whatever he was looking for, wasn't there.

"Alright, you got me. I was never a barista."

Janey knew he would crack easily, by this was unexpected. He gave in within less than a dozen minutes. She had interrogated many people and no one has given in that quickly. For a prisoner - and especially, one of Harrison's men - he was incredibly weak. This fact alone was enough to terrify her. Maybe she was walking into a trap. Maybe he was the bait.

His next line further pushed her buttons.

"I was a prisoner. In Belgium."

Janey didn't even need to act shocked. She was utterly dumbfounded. Did he really just confess? That easily?

"W-what?" She stammered.

"But I swear it wasn't my fault. I was framed." He halted for a moment, his eyes suddenly looking off in the distance as if someone was there. "I didn't do it. I didn't. I didn't touch him. I didn't kill her. I didn't."

He slammed his hands over his ears and turned his head to the ground muttering 'I didn't do it'. Janey wasn't quite sure want to do to start with, leaving her just staring at Stephen but when she heard footsteps getting close, she finally acted.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she forced his gaze to meet hers. His eyelashes had leftover tears and his cheeks were lined with tears.

"Calm down," her voice was stern yet laced with evident concern and worry. "I don't know who you're talking about but I believe you. You didn't kill her."

He shook his head.

"I was drunk. I don't remember a thing... I just... I convince myself I didn't to make me feel better." He coughed out a bitter laugh. "Doesn't help very much."

Janey wasn't quite sure what to say after that. So she said nothing. And it seemed, from the silence on the other side of her earpiece, no one else was sure either.

Was it a trap? Was he that gullible? Was he lying? Was he telling the truth?

Suddenly, over the earpiece, Janey heard a shout.

"Out of there," Cassidy's voice rang in her ear. "A car is approaching. Out of there. Get out-"

It was too late.

The car cruised down the street faster than expected. Even Cassidy was shocked at the speed. When it got to the bookshop, it screeched to a stop.

"Oh dear," Kyla mumbled. "This can't be good."

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