"So, when was the last time you said you saw the deceased?" the detective asked as I unconsciously spun the small styrofoam cup against the Formica table. They were kind enough to bring me coffee, or at least what they're calling coffee, but I've been in this room for hours at this point. They took Lex to a separate room. I specialize in true crime. I know how this works.
"I saw her yesterday before I left to go to my, uh, boyfriend's house."
"Mr. Wells?"
I clear my throat trying to identify the best way to phrase this. "Uh, no. Different boyfriend. It didn't work out."
"And where is this boyfriend?"
I bit the side of my cheek before clearing my throat a second time. "In custody, actually. Your custody. Trent Reskin."
The officer haphazardly scribbled down his name in his notebook, but no look that crossed his features indicated to me that he had any idea who Trent was. Which is fine, honestly. I'm not sure how I would even begin to explain that mess.
