[Written in Dún Laoghaire, Ireland, following up on the last entry]
The officer stared down at him. He had stood up sometime during the interrogation – to intimidate him, Shane presumed. He seemed more agitated and frustrated by the minute. Not because Shane denied anything; because he so casually confessed everything.
“You’re not denying that you are responsible for your family’s death, then?” Shane raised his head, and his dark green eyes, like moss that was growing on old rocks by the sea, saw in the officer’s eyes a reflection of what he thought to see in him.
A monster, not a human being.
A man that had killed in cold blood and wouldn’t even think about the horror he had brought upon others. Only in the last point, the policeman was wrong.
“I wouldn’t think of it, sir. I really cannot agree with your haste, though. It seems highly inappropriate to interrogate a suspect while he’s still in mourning.”
“What the hell do you mean, in mourning?”
Shane shook his head and clicked his tongue reproachfully. “Well, it was my family that died under those horrible circumstances, don’t you agree?” He was met with a disbelieving stare as the officer took an involuntary step backwards.
“But you killed them.”
They locked their gazes in a duel that seemed to him like a predator watching its prey, ready to launch forwards for the final kill. The only problem in this all too natural process was that both believed to be the predator, and only one could be.
Shane didn’t mind. He could sit here all day; he didn’t have any pressing business to attend to. The officer, on the other hand…
“Do you have a wife, sir?” he asked calmly. “Maybe even a little daughter?”
“None of your fucking business,” he snapped.
“I thought so. How old is she?”
The officer slammed down his coffee mug – black, with precisely two sugar cubes – and seemed to decide to divert from the subject. “Your sister. How is she involved in all this? Why did you let her live?”
Shane shrugged. “I really believe that is the wrong question. Would you rather I had disposed of her, too?”
“Not the point.”
“Indeed. If you must ask, she was not involved at all. I simply got bored before I came to her room.”
The officer shuddered. “Bored.”
“Oh, yes.” The lie dripped off his lips like honey, and the so-called superior followed its seducing scent, lapping at it like a hungry bear. It made things easier.
“I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this.”
“I don’t know, officer. I’m having a splendid time.”
An exasperated sigh. “Fine. One last question, though. Why did you kill them?”
Shane raised his head again, and a malicious, dreamlike smirk crept onto his lips and lingered there for a moment.
“Because I could.”