the interrogation: they’re always watching...
“is this a real two-way mirror?”
—
the inside of the small interrogation room is just as one would expect. a clean metal table that’s cool to the touch, a few equally bitter metal chairs, and the famous two way mirror that only leaves you staring at yourself; it’s just about the most interesting thing in the room. the walls are bland and dull in hue. it’s meant to intimidate not comfort. the truth is expected to be coaxed from those within the four walls. with his less than ideal rambunctious natured childhood, it’s safe to say this isn’t samuel’s first rodeo. he’s found himself in rooms like this more often than he’d care to admit at young age for petty things, civil disobedience and the like. so what makes his stomach feel so uneasy this time around?
he took his designated place on the opposite end of the table, hands folding in on each other carefully. he has nothing to worry about. ultimately his summons for this interrogation has nothing to do with him and he’s aware of that. and yet his knee keeps a slightly nervous bounce as he begins to fiddle with his fingers. any normal person would be a little nervous in police custody, sam tries to remind himself. this is about daisey’s death. the murderer now assumed to be nathaniel ballantyne. only it takes but a few nudges before someone’s yelling jenga! and the entire thing collapses. a killer’s blackmail. the thirty. his secret.
Part One ( You. )
Do you have any criminal history? Anything big or small that you want to make us aware of?
a gentle smile finds its way to pink lips as his nervous ticks dissipate. he’s been conditioned for moments like these with lessons taught by parental figures and the like. he also knew those minor incidents in question were cleared. at the very least buried deep enough so that no one else should find them. after all a diplomat’s son is not meant to be problematic. “no.” he answers calmly. there are no records and there’s certainly nothing he’d want to make them aware of. certainly not if it meant those back home could gain a whiff. they’d be all over him in a heartbeat and he may never see ashmont again. “no I do not.” this time it’s spoken with clarity as his slender frame leans into the table so he can be picked up by the microphone.
How have you spent the few weeks back at college? What have they been like?
all of the events dating back to the beginning of the school year came flooding back to him. oz’s party. the threatening message sent by daisey’s blog. a message that he hadn’t taken seriously enough to begin with. he refused to believe that the contents of said message were true. however it was not merely the discovered fact that daisey is dead, but more importantly that someone knew his secret. at the time it felt impossible. arrogance claimed him for a few weeks and one by one the dominoes began to topple over. those within the thirty were exposed and they were scared, distraught, shamed. he could see it in their faces. in the eyes of their loved ones. in their actions. it was real and only getting worse. the killer was quite literally painting the town red.
his arms retract from the table, lifting hands first, palms to each other, before they settle onto his lap. slender shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug. “the past few weeks have been stressful” he admits with a slow drawl. “it was very nice to see everyone again at first...and then daisey went missing...and” there it is, the fork in the road. it’s a moment he could just take. like that. how would they know? what else would he have to lose? “..then she was found.” but he already decided his path. long before this summons. it’s still a thought though, one that lingers at the back of his mind. what did he have to lose...
“it seemed like everything was returning to normal..at least..as normal as it could be and the art gallery happened...” an event that he’s still extremely upset about. “and now you know... we are placed on this curfew.” it’s unintentional but a hint of spite laced it’s way into his voice upon mention of the curfew. “so yes..” pick your battles sam. “it has been stressful.”
Part Two ( Daisey. )
How did you know Miss. Rutherford? What was the nature of your relationship?
these are routine questions. he’s well aware but in some instances it felt like a waste of time. “the rutherfords are my host family for the exchange program.” and how lucky he is right? that this occurred by random chance and everything is going smoothly. wrong. he couldn’t have taken a bumpier road. it’s not their fault though, no one asked for this. “that is how I got to know daisey.” the woman of the hour that seemed to last forever. sam was fond of daisey so he didn’t always mind being at her beck and call. some instances proved to more hellish or inconvenient than others but growing closer to her was satisfying. she pulled him in like a shiny piece of gold. “daisey and I were friends.” sure he could call it that. it never got the chance to flourish into something else so they remained in the realm of friends. “I got to know her over the past year because I was living with her family.”
Do you remember where you were the night Daisey went missing? If so, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?
the infamous friday the thirteenth. once feared due to killers like of jason or freddy and monsters among the things going bump in the night. daisey was murdered that night. the irony of it all almost makes his mouth twitch in amusement, how twisted is that? he begins to wonder if it was a planned attack but his expression remains stoic. there’s no reason for falsely incriminating himself because his thoughts ran wild. “yes. I was at the party oz threw after the homecoming game.” the artist reclines in his seat, taking a moment to realign that night. the details don’t take very long to reach the forefront his mind but he allows the pause. “I do not remember exactly what time I arrived, I had already been drinking before I got there with a few other people. I remember dancing and just generally talking to people.” dark brown curls bounce slightly when he shakes his head. “ah, I went outside for a little and spoke with zar.” his roommate now. accused of man-slaughter by daisey’s killer. more irony. “I went inside again a while after that...I helped someone prank honey.”
it’s then that he allows a smile to break on his features. “it was pretty good. we put mayonnaise in this mixture of water, vodka and tequila.” what was not half as amusing was when his partner in the ordeal got punched in the face. at least..it wasn’t amusing for them. “I think it was probably close to two am when I left I...ran into a friend. well.. we are not really friends anymore” and who’s fault was that? sam’s the one truly pushing sutton away. “but I did not want to be there anymore after that.” the final detail that comes to mind forces his jaw to clench. looking back at it now it’s another regretful decision. “I hooked up with angel that night too...” now he hates to admit it, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. angelic flores, the recently revealed mother who had no problem abandoning her poor child. it’s not an action he can ever see himself standing behind. “I think I got home around three or three thirty? I can not remember.”
Did you notice anything strange about Daisey’s behavior the night she went missing? Did you notice anything suspicious about anyone else you ran into that night?
“it was not particularly strange...” he admits, because in truth it wasn’t. daisey drank at these things. she got high sometimes. it wasn’t new but perhaps it felt different. he can recall the hazy smile that splayed across her visage. the lazy uncoordinated movements that stood out from the crowd. daisey had a way of doing that. standing out in a crowd, even when heavily intoxicated. “she was under the influence of something. I do not know what, I hadn’t been with her much that night. I think it was probably close to one am? I know it was past midnight because it was after I came back inside. I had gotten a call at around twelve thirty that I missed I tried calling back, but they did not answer and I saw her maybe....ten or....fifteen minutes after? she was in the main area, I was on my towards the stairs, I heard her saying something but it wasn’t clear at all. I thought I would see her again at home but...” another shrug finishes his sentence as that was truly the last he saw of daisey rutherford alive.
Where were you the night Daisey’s body was recovered?
where he always was. practically every friday night, the tourist found himself at the bar with one of his good friends. “I was at the bar with vi. we usually go there every friday. I think that night I had finally gotten a part of one of the card tricks she was showing me. It was exciting because I usually mess something up. it is a very hard trick. she is very good at it, but I got the first part down...and we haven’t really revisited the trick since..”
How familiar are you with the Ashmont woods? Have you been there often? Have you recently ventured out here? If so, why?
this question snags his attention, thick brows pull together as he leans forward curiously. he hadn’t heard anything about the woods yet. what sort of drop of information is this? a red herring or is it a matter of importance “I have probably only been there once when I around when I first arrived. once or twice.” that’s all he could honestly remember of them. the woods weren’t particularly a place of interest for him. “I have not been there recently no..” why sits at the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked but the police weren’t there to answer questions.
Part Four ( Weekly Events. ) (* switched bc he felt like bein a lil shit at the end)
Did you attend the illegal bonfire? Do you know who organized this event?
“no.” his answer is simple and straight forward. he did not attend the bonfire out of caution for the repercussion should anyone have gotten caught. he did not expect this outcome but he’s glad he hadn’t gone regardless. his head begins to shake in response to the second question but then he’s reminded of a conversation in passing. “I do not think I know exactly who organized it. I remember speaking to danny, he mentioned it, but I do not know if he helped organize anything.”
Did you notice any suspicious activity if you attended the event?
“I did not..because I stayed at home” in apartment six all night. “bath bomb, the cat” he clarifies, his favorite of the apartment’s animals “stared at the wall for a little before chasing her tail and falling over. I do not know if that counts as suspicious activity. she falls over or jumps from high places a lot.”
Do you know Nathaniel Ballantyne? If so, what do you know of him?
nathaniel ballantyne. the ashmont police department’s person of interest. sam can’t say he knows the man well enough to make an accurate judge of his character but the opinion heavy information he does hold doesn’t sit well for nate. “not really.. I have met him a few times..” here’s his second fork in the road. he could sink nate and potentially assist his blackmailer or hope to god that nathaniel and the ominous killer are one in the same and they actually catch him. weighing out the options they both seem one in the same and the win-lose ratio has already been tossed. “I have never gotten particularly friendly vibe from him. he has always kept to himself.” in the dark of the lamar library. “actually,” sam straightens as that visual re-enters his mind from that night. it was brief but it was odd. “I remember something else from the party. I was walking around upstairs and I walked into the library and he was sitting in front of the window by himself in the dark by a game of chess. it was very strange. I couldn’t tell if he was waiting for someone or...something. I did not stay for long. I...had a weird feeling.” he admits partial truths. samuel thayer was not afraid of the strange, seemingly gentle, giant. he can only hope he picked the right road.
Do you know anything about his connection to Daisey Rutherford?
“I know that they obviously knew each other. daisey... was engaged to his brother..uh..I remember they had this thing...like..a sort of rivalry about school or something. I know daisey complained to me about something like that once..” oh the earful of complaints that girl had. some spoken directly. some overheard. the rutherford manor was large but they resided in close enough quarters. “I do not know...I can’t say that I know him well enough to point fingers, but...” his inhale of breath offers a pause before he continues. “I think that reasoning holds the same both ways. I can’t say that I know for sure that he would not do anything.”
Part Three ( the Investigation. ) (* switched bc he felt like bein a lil shit at the end)
Do you have any people you feel the police should look into? Please, let us know who and why.
“just nathaniel I guess...why else would he run?” his lower lip catches between his teeth. admitting it now felt wrong but there’s no turning back. it’s his simplest line of thought and his only way to help. “I do not know...” a stressed sigh over takes him as both hands reach up to smooth over his face. they remain on his cheeks for a moment. his decision has been locked in.
Do you have feelings towards the investigation? Any comments?
“I do have a few comments” and there he goes. still clasped together his hands return to the table top and his gaze locks with detective grant. “I do not understand this curfew or the buddy system. if anything it is only scaring everyone even more. you can not just treat us all like we are children. do you know it’s the children with over protective parents that act out the most?” now he is speaking from personal experience? “I think this is only going to cause more chaos. please consider getting rid of it or making it later..”
thank you for your cooperation.
after what felt like an eon, the interrogation was finally over. he could breathe once more. it wasn’t until he had risen to exit the room that he realized how stuffy it felt. the tension that had risen in the air. it’s just as he’s leaving that he makes his final remark. “is this a real two-way mirror?”