Page 37 of Sweet
I grimaced, reaching back into the bag to pull out a piece of hard candy. I fumbled with the loud plastic wrapping, tossing it at the tall, old man before popping the candy into my mouth. “What?” I snapped. “Gonna bust me for eating candy?” I smiled, enjoying myself a little too much.
The detectives were already visibly annoyed with me, and we were just getting started.
“Alright, let’s back up a bit.” Detective Freeman opened a second file, this one thicker than the first. “Felix Phillipe Osvaldo.” My smile fell as he continued to read aloud. “First born to Cuban immigrants, Ignacio Dominguez Osvaldo and Dulce Marie Osvaldo…born here in the United States…ahh, Scorpio. I guess that makes sense with your history.” He flipped to another page, skimming the unimportant details. “Let’s see…Mom died while Dad was in Cuba. Her murder remains unsolved as you were the only witness…says here you were just seven at the time. Wow. That must’ve been a traumatizing thing to experience so young.”
I crossed my arms, refusing to give him any inkling of satisfaction with my reactions.
“Right.” His eyes returned to the file. “Dad remarried not long after, followed by the birth of your younger siblings—” He stopped. “Ah, Haze and Indigo Osvaldo. Both of whom are currently wanted for murder…among other things.” He then turned to the other detective who finally spoke up.
“Pretty tragic childhood if you ask me.”
I cocked my head to the side and grinned, sucking on my candy. “I didn’t.” He glared back at me, his face turning a faint shade of red.
This is too fucking easy.
Detective Freeman flipped a few more pages. “You think this is funny? Is murder some kind of joke to you?” I shrugged, unbothered. “Yeah, you would think that wouldn’t you, Gunnery Sergeant Osvaldo.”
My entire body tensed at the mention of my military rank.
“Ahh, I struck a nerve there, didn’t I?” The tall detective smiled. “I must say, when we ran your prints, I didn’t expect to come across such an impressive military background.” He continued to read. “Let’s see…enlisted in the Marine Corps fresh out of high school, serving a four year Infantry enlistment. You caught the attention of higher ups during your time in boot camp for excellent marksmanship, getting sent for tryouts for Scout Sniper after earning the rank of Lance Corporal.”
I clenched my jaw, dropping my arms into my lap as he continued to read the extensive details of my military service.
“You then excelled tryouts with flying colors, being personally selected by your battalion and joining the Scout-Sniper Platoon after completing all the required training. You then served back to back deployments overseas, successfully completing numerous missions with your unit before reenlisting for another four years. You were then attached to a MARSOC unit as a Scout Sniper, quickly earning the rank of Gunnery Sergeant with a pay grade of E-7.” He looked up. “That’s prettyimpressive for someone barely in their late thirties.” I didn’t react.
The detective sighed, flipping to the page I dreaded most. “Aside from a couple write-ups for your temper, it seems things were looking up for you. But then, in your last year of enlistment, your convoy drove into an IED during a mission. A piece of scratch metal nicked your brain, resulting in a TBI.” He looked up, examining me from across the table. “Ahh, that must be the scar.” He pointed to my temple. “After initial recovery, you were then placed on light duty for a good year until you were med-boarded out and forced back into civilian life.” He slammed the file shut. “But what I find the most intriguing about you, Felix, is that after your return to civilian life, there’s nothing. No list of employment, no address or phone number on file…not even a parking ticket. You’re like a ghost.”
I leaned forward. “Boo.”
He grimaced. “Very funny.”
Detective Brookes inched closer as well, tapping the opened evidence bag. “These gloves—your gloves—came back positive for gunshot residue. The driver of the black SUV was found, a bullet embedded straight into his skull, murdered by the same gun found at the scene of the wreck. Care to explain any of that?”
I slouched back in the wobbly chair. “I wore those gloves when I was at the gun range not too long ago.” I grinned. “Don’t believe me? Check their security footage.”
Detective Freeman stared at me. “You mean the same gun rage that an innocent man was attacked in?” He pulled out another file. “Apparently, he was pistol-whipped by a Hispanic male, mid to late thirties, with green eyes.” He pulled out a poorly drawn police sketch.
I picked it up and burst out laughing. “This could be anyone.” I held it up to my face, mimicking the expression. “Well? What do you think? Uncanny, isn’t it?” I mocked, crumbling the sketchup. “Like I said, could be anyone.” I tossed it at the fat detective, watching as it bounced off his double chin.
“Where were you a few weeks back?” My eyes shot to him, already knowing where this conversation was going.
He pulled out yet another file. “A man who worked at The Red Eye came in to file a report as well. He said, and I quote, ‘a crazed Hispanic male in his mid-to-late thirties who attacked me for no reason, dragged me into the alley where he proceeded to beat me, eventually sawing my right ear off.’ Damn near identical to the last complaint we received. According to the man’s statement, he was only able to escape when a young woman arrived.” My body tensed immediately. “Both descriptions are a dead ringer for you. But I’m curious…who’s the young woman, Felix?”
I spat the candy at the detective, watching as it hit his glasses with a loudtinkthen rolled onto the table and then the floor.
He simply sighed, then wiped his lenses. “That could be taken as assault, you know?”
I smiled. “Assault by candy, yeah, that’ll stick.”
The fat fucker next to him spoke up. “What about the young woman who went missing last year?” He slid a photo of a red-haired woman toward me. “Her name is Mary-Jane, and she’s been missing ever sinceyoursister, Indigo, moved out of their shared apartment. Not long after her twin, Haze, went on the run. He’s still wanted for the murder of Carter Hayes, the kidnapping and torture of Mary-Jane, and now her disappearance and suspected murder.”
Fucking twins.
Detective Freeman cocked his head. “It seems to me your whole family is mixed up in a tangle of crime. Murder, kidnapping…what’s next?”
I leaned forward again and smiled. “My lawyer.”
The two detectives exchanged a look as the door to the interrogation room swung open.
