A Kiss To Build A Dream On - Season 2: Bridge

The Wanderer's Blues - Bo Didley

The precinct was a far cry from how it was a week earlier, now lively with officers running around, catching up on the piles of paperwork left from their vacations, and following up on active cases. 

Graham knew he had a pile to catch up of his own. Cop dramas always left the tedious paperwork outside the picture when in reality it probably accounted for over half of his investigation time. Graham pushed those thoughts behind, leading Henry, still clutching the cardboard box filled with his belongings, to one of the seldom-used briefing rooms. He needed somewhere private and non-threatening.

It was a small room, filled with rusty metal chairs and a cheap wooden podium. Halogen lights cast a lulling glow, interrupted by the occasional flickering of a few malfunctioning bulbs that hadn't been changed in years but still refused to go out. 

Graham pushed a couple of chairs close together, inviting Henry to take one of them with a polite gesture. Henry obliged.

"You can put that box on the floor if you want, Mr. White."

Henry replied by clutching the box tight to his chest.

"As you wish," said Graham, taking the notebook out of his jacket.

Henry kept his sight pinned to the inside of the cardboard box, barely moving, save for his slow breathing expanding and contracting his chest.

"I will not take much of your ti-"

"Lawyer," whispered Henry, not taking his attention off the box.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want my lawyer," he repeated, a bit louder this time.

"You don't need a lawyer, Mr. White. You aren't being detained. This ain't interrogation, either. Just wanna put you up to date with the investigation. Is that okay with you?"

Henry remained silent. Graham waited a few seconds for his response. When he was sure none was coming, he continued, going through his notes for reference.

"We believe your wife was killed by accident by William Wolfe. An inspection of the vehicle revealed that the brakes were cut by a sharp object." Graham produced the case file from his messenger bag, placing it on his knees. "It's all here if you wanna take a look."

Again, Henry was unresponsive.

Graham placed the file on top of his bag on the floor, shifting forward on his seat. "We contacted the Park Plaza hotel and they provided us with the security tape for the night of the event. In it, we can clearly see Mr. Wolfe approach your car, disappearing under it, and re-emerging after a brief period of time. Using this information, we got a court order to investigate Mr. Wolfe's residence. Inside, we found a pair of pliers with his fingerprints all over it. Are you still with me, Mr. White?"

For the first time since they left Geber Laboratories, Henry made eye contact with Graham. His eyes were out of focus and opaque, seemingly sunken by heavy black bags under red and swollen eyelids. For a moment, Graham doubted someone was listening behind those eyes. But he was quickly reassured otherwise.

"Yes. Can you please turn off the lights? I'm having a pounding headache."

Graham quickly stood up, flicking the light switch off and killing the illumination in the room. Only a faint glimmer coming from under the door and the occasional flicker of a defective bulb kept the duo from complete darkness.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you. Please, continue."

Under the shroud of darkness, Graham had a hard time reading his notes, so he used his cell phone for lighting. "We have testimony that Mr. Wolfe acted suspicious at the time of the tape, as well as other testimonies. We strongly believe that Mr. Wolfe was trying to kill you, but his plan backfired. Instead of you, he managed to kill Mrs. Geber."