Jeffrey met Nick's gaze unflinchingly, his voice devoid of remorse. "I don't care. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I have no doubt that he's the killer."
Nick shook his head, frustration evident in his tone. "You're lucky you didn't wound or kill anyone. You realize you'll likely be removed from your position as sheriff, right?"
"I've already told you, I don't care!" Jeffrey's voice rose, his anger palpable in the small room.
Christian, sensing the need to redirect the conversation, interjected. "How did you even find Bradley Force?"
"His mother told me," Jeffrey replied curtly.
Nick's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice. "What, did you threaten her?"
Jeffrey's response was brusque, bordering on insolent. "It doesn't matter. I've said all I'm going to say. Do your job and put that bastard Bradley away."
Christian sighed heavily, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Jeffrey, Jeffrey, you should have thought about your wife Mary."
Nick reached for his mobile phone, dialing the duty officers. He requested that Bradley be brought to the interrogation room. Moments later, Bradley was led in, his hands cuffed and his gaze fixed on the floor. He swayed slightly as he walked, his demeanor unsteady. Upon seeing Bradley, Jeffrey leapt from his chair, lunging towards the younger man with murderous intent. The officers quickly intervened, forcing Jeffrey back into his seat. Bradley remained standing near the door, his posture tense and wary.
"I'll kill you!" Jeffrey roared, his face contorted with rage.
Nick's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and authoritative. "Jeffrey, if you don't calm down right this instant, I'll have you put back in handcuffs!"
Bradley's voice, when he spoke, was nasal and slurred, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, get this psycho out of here! He tried to kill me!" He jabbed an accusing finger in Jeffrey's direction. Bradley's appearance was as disheveled as his speech – his black jeans were torn and dirty, his blue T-shirt looked as if it hadn't been washed in weeks. The zigzag scar on his cheek stood out starkly against his pallid skin.
"And you, you bastard, killed my daughter!" Jeffrey shot back, his voice dripping with venom.
"Jeffrey, I'm warning you for the last time," Christian interjected, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Shut up, or I'll have you removed from this room immediately."
Bradley's next words came out in a panicked rush. "I've already told you, I didn't kill your daughter. We were friends, we hung out together!"
"Shut your mouth!" Jeffrey bellowed. "My daughter would never have associated with a dirty lowlife like you!"
"That's enough!" Nick's shout silenced the room. The interrogation had devolved into a circus, with Nick cast in the unenviable role of ringmaster, desperately trying to maintain order and extract some semblance of truth from the chaos.
"Sit him down and remove the handcuffs," Nick instructed the officers, gesturing towards Bradley. They complied, seating Bradley at the edge of the table opposite Jeffrey. Bradley kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the table's surface.
Christian, eyeing Bradley's disheveled state, couldn't resist a barbed comment. "You look awful, to put it mildly. A homeless person would look more presentable."
Nick shot his partner a warning glance before turning his attention back to Bradley. "Look at me, Bradley. Tell me where you've been for the past two weeks. We have a witness who saw you with Rose at the bar on the night of her murder. It's a strange coincidence that you disappeared without a trace after that."
Bradley raised his head slowly, his bloodshot eyes darting nervously around the room as he rubbed his nose. "We were just hanging out that evening, that's all. And these past two weeks… I've been drinking. Because I found out Rose was dead. My mother told me – she saw it on the news."
Bradley's words came out in a slurred mumble, punctuated by frequent pauses to wipe away the saliva that dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
"What are you mumbling about, you freak?" Jeffrey interjected, his voice dripping with contempt. "Tell the truth! Admit that you killed Rose!"
"Jeffrey, I swear to God, if you don't shut up right now, I will have you removed from this room," Nick warned, his patience finally reaching its limit. He turned back to Bradley, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady.
"Bradley, we also know that you and Rose were arguing that evening, and then had some kind of physical altercation. After which, she left and was later found dead. How do you explain this? What happened between you two?"
Bradley's hand shook violently as he pointed an accusing finger at Jeffrey. "We fought because of him!"
"Because of me? What nonsense are you spewing, you degenerate?" Jeffrey snarled, his voice low but dripping with venom. Nick shot him a warning glance that could have frozen hell itself. Jeffrey lowered his head, and Bradley seized the opportunity to continue:
"Rose told me you'd never approve of us being together. So I lashed out, told her to go crawling back to daddy. She stormed off, and I split about two minutes later. I was a mess, so I crashed at my friend Sarah's place – her house is just a stone's throw from the bar. You can verify it with her. I'll jot down the address for you."
"We'll look into that," Nick said, his voice measured. "But until your story checks out, you're not going anywhere." He paused, studying Bradley's face with the intensity of a raptor eyeing its prey. "Now, there's one more thing I've been itching to ask… That nasty scar on your cheek – where'd you pick that up?"
Bradley's lips curled into a sneer, his hand unconsciously rubbing his nose.
"Some punk gave it to me back in high school. Ancient history."
Nick remained silent, his gaze ping-ponging between Jeffrey and Bradley, weighing their words, their body language, searching for the truth hidden beneath the layers of hostility and fear.
"Are you planning to press charges against Jeffrey Saltano for attempted murder?" Nick asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.
Jeffrey glowered at Bradley, his silence more menacing than any threat.
"Nah, I'm not pressing charges. Let the old man go," Bradley said, waving his hand dismissively.
"I swear on my life, I didn't kill Rose. I loved her, man. I really did."
"Well, in that case, Jeffrey, you're free to go," Nick announced, striding to the door. He called out to the officers behind the two-way mirror, his voice clipped and professional:
"Escort Bradley back to his cell and get that address from him. I want it verified ASAP."
Christian, who had been a silent observer throughout the interrogation, stepped forward. "Jeffrey, anything else you want to get off your chest before you go?"
Jeffrey's face contorted with barely contained rage. "I've said all I'm gonna say. You deaf or something?"
"I don't buy a word of it," he spat. "My daughter would never have stooped so low. I knew her better than anyone."
With that, Jeffrey stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a finality that echoed through the room. Bradley was led away, leaving Nick and Christian alone with their thoughts and the weight of an investigation that seemed to grow more complex by the minute.
6:00 AM
Nick turned to Christian, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep but burning with determination. "We need to run down that address, see if Bradley's story holds water. If it checks out, he's got himself a rock-solid alibi."
"I'm on it," Christian nodded, already reaching for his phone. "I'll dispatch a couple of uniforms right now."
Two hours later
The confirmation came through like a sucker punch to the gut – Bradley's alibi was airtight. With a heavy sigh, Nick gave the order for his release. Half an hour later, he found himself standing by the window of his office, a silent sentinel watching