Page 11 of Wild Tempest

The apartment had an open-concept kitchen, a decent-sized living room, and a small balcony with vertical blinds. A black leather sofa, cheap mass market art, and a 65-inch flatscreen occupied the space. Beer bottles, empty fast food containers, and a game controller littered the glass coffee table

The bedroom door was closed.

JD and I held up on either side. Erickson kicked it open, and we swung our barrels into the bedroom.

Trevor sat up in bed, looking dumbfounded, wiping the sleep from his eyes. I think he was trying to process whether this was a nightmare or reality.

"You're under arrest for aggravated assault!" I shouted. "On your stomach. Hands behind your back!"

Trevor's eyes flicked between us as the tactical team surrounded the bed, barrels of angry rifles staring him down.

Without many options, Trevor rolled onto his belly and put his hands behind his back.

JD slapped the cuffs around his wrists. He ratcheted them tight, then yanked the perp out of bed. Jack escorted him out of the bedroom and sat him on the couch in the living room while we searched the rest of the apartment.

"Can I at least put some clothes on?" The boxer briefs left him a little underdressed for the occasion.

"You'll get a whole new wardrobe, courtesy of the county," Jack said.

I found his pistol in the nightstand by the drawer, along with a box of ammunition. I snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves, collected the weapon, emptied it, and bagged it as evidence.

We searched his closet for bloody clothes. On the floor, we found the outfit he wore the night of the incident. There were grass stains on the shirt and shorts, along with dirt from the scuffle. There was also dirt in the tread of his shoes. All that evidence would confirm he was indeed on the island. Along with the video, he was going away for at least a little while.

The murder charge would be harder to make stick without bodies. Maybe with enough pressure, he’d tell us where they were.

We collected laptops, tablets, and his cell phone.

Jack read the scumbag his rights and escorted him out of the apartment and through the complex. He stuffed him into the back of a patrol car that waited at the curb. Trevor was taken to the station where he was processed and printed.

We wrapped up at the scene, and I was surprised Paris and her crew weren’t there to capture it.

At the station, JD and I filled out after-action reports in the conference room, then paid Trevor a visit. By this time of the morning, we were all bleary-eyed.

"I understand why you lied to me," I said, trying to sound sympathetic. "I mean, you went out to that island, and you murdered the three of them. What else could you say?”

Trevor glared at me. "I didn't murder anybody.”

"So where are they?”

"How should I know? They were there when I left.”

"We found 9mm shell casings, bloodstains, and we have video footage of you assaulting the filmmakers.” I leaned in and muttered, “I gotta be honest with you, it's looking pretty bad right about now. How about you tell me what you did with the bodies, and I'll see what I can do about getting you a reduced sentence?"

His jaw tightened with frustration. "I'm telling you, I don't know where their bodies are. I didn't kill anybody. They were alive when I left the island.”

"And you expect me to believe that?”

"I don't care what you believe. It's the truth."

"You better start caring. Because your ass is going to prison for a long time.”

"I want a lawyer."

I sighed. "It's not going to do you any good."

That was the end of the interview.

My chair screeched as I pushed away from the table. JD and I ambled toward the door. After a quick knock, a guard buzzed us out.