Chapter 3 That's A Lie

The team brought Nolan into an interrogation room and sat him beneath a lamp that shone straight into his eyes.

Beyond its harsh circle of light, the room was almost black. Vincent sat across from him with two other interrogators in uniform.

"What's your name?"

"Nolan Shaw."

"How old are you?"

After thinking hard about it, Nolan answered, "T-twenty."

"You're sure you didn't see a merman, sir?" one of the interrogators asked with a stern look.

"I didn't see one." Nolan picked at his fingers.

"Who was with you in the room yesterday?" the interrogator asked.

"Some gentleman."

"What were you doing together?"

With a hard swallow, Nolan responded, "Having sex."

For a moment, the interrogator could only stare at him.

Human shame meant nothing to Nolan. His blunt answer made him seem naive.

Vincent had no patience for talk about sex. He wanted answers and had no interest in Nolan's private life. "How do you know him? Did anything about him seem strange? What's his name, and where does he live?"

The questions told Nolan that their suspicion was turning toward the man.

He faced Vincent across the interrogation table. "I have no idea who he is."

Fear had Nolan in its grip.

Once a merman mated with a human, he needed that person's scent. If he went too long without it, he could have trouble breathing. And if they didn't mate again, his tail would come back.

That man, though, was the senior commander here. Getting close to him was out of the question.

Nolan might need this man to stay alive. The thought made his scalp prickle.

"I don't know who he is. I don't even know his name," Nolan muttered. "I'd been drinking."

He kept his eyes on Vincent. "He forced me. Then he left me 8, 000 dollars. You saw the money yourself, sir. I guess you'd call it payment for sex. He gave me the merman scale, too."

Every answer was meant to pull suspicion away from him.

If lying kept him alive, Nolan would lie.

Vincent got up and came toward him. His tall frame blocked the light as he drew closer, one measured step after another. "He gave you the merman scale?"

"Yes." Nolan drew a shallow breath, and his chest rose.

Vincent set both hands on the edge of the interrogation table and leaned in. Their shadows met across it. He spoke gently, but Nolan felt as if a wolf had cornered him and was waiting to draw blood.

"Then why didn't you call the police?"

"He was scary."

"So you were too afraid?" Vincent tapped a finger on the table in front of Nolan.

"Yes. I was." Nolan clutched the table's edge and tried to steady himself.

"Why would you think he was scary?"

"He said he'd come back and bully me again if I called the police."

"That's a lie," Vincent blurted out. He slammed a hand on the table, and the crack rang through the room.

"I'm not lying!"

"You were scared of him, so you stayed quiet?"

"He had a gun. That's why."

Nolan met Vincent's eyes. His palms had gone numb. "And I... I want to stay alive."

Vincent fired one question after another, giving Nolan no time to breathe. His presence seemed to fill the small room.

Less than half a minute had passed. Nolan felt as if the exchange had taken half his life.

He balled his hands into fists. A commander like Vincent could find out who had been at the hotel room with him. Nolan needed some way to get ahead of that. The commander didn't remember him, but perhaps he could make the man feel guilty once he learned the truth.

Without warning, Vincent seized Nolan's arm and drew a vial of blood with practiced ease.

"Run a genetic test on this," Vincent instructed, handing the vial to a nearby lab technician. "I want the results in five minutes."

"Yes, sir."

"Find out who he went to the hotel with last night, too," Vincent added.

"We'll have the results shortly, sir." The technician took the blood and left.

The room went quiet again. Nolan stayed at the table, his hands red from how tightly he'd clasped them.

Vincent kept his eyes on Nolan. "You know what happens if you lie to a commander?"

"I do," Nolan answered, though his voice shook.

"You said he forced you. If we find him, do you want to press charges?" Vincent asked.

"And if I do... what happens to him?" Nolan asked. His fingertips trembled.

Vincent looked down at him. He didn't make a show of being cruel or try to intimidate people. He believed he was mild-mannered. But most people gave him his cold reputation.

A lot of them feared him. Nolan did, too.

"Only Protection & Control Bureau personnel can carry guns in Dwarlen. If one of our people did this, he'd face serious consequences," Vincent explained evenly. "Prison at the very least. He could even be hanged."

Uncertainty crossed Nolan's face. "Even if he's high-ranking?"

Vincent answered at once, "He doesn't outrank me."

A frantic knock at the interrogation room door cut Nolan off before he could reply.

"Sir, we f-found..."

The technician's eyes darted around the room. He seemed to have uncovered a shameful secret and couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't dare to act like a coward in front of Vincent, but his legs were shaking.

"Why are you stammering?" Vincent had no patience for timid subordinates. His voice turned sharp. "Say it."

Nolan watched them both.

The technician gripped the test results and moved closer to Vincent, as though he meant to whisper the answer.

Vincent held up a hand to stop him.

The look he gave the technician was cold. At the Bureau, everyone knew what that look meant. Vincent was close to losing his temper.

He rarely said much when he was angry. Even so, no one at the Protection & Control Bureau wanted that stare turned on them. To them, it felt worse than having a gun held to their forehead.

The technician shut his eyes, bowed his head, and mumbled his answer. "Sir, the person who got a room with him last night... was you."