"Do you even care that your friend is dead?" he asked. He had calmed down, but the condescension in his tone was yet to be gone.
"Yes."
"You don't sound like you are." For a couple of seconds, they stared at each other. I could see the dip of the detective's head and his gaze fell to the table. I sighed.
He had lost eye-contact again. William was still looking at him while he had broken contact. He had given William the ego-boost that he needed to increase his psychological run. He wouldn't exhaust himself any time soon.
The questions turned to things the police had found in his apartment.
"What about the pair of women's underwear in your apartment that was cut out like a mask?"
What? I paused and had to think about this for a second. Who's underwear was it? If it was Irene, the maximum they could pin on him was stealing underwear and trespassing. It didn't prove that she was murdered by William.
