Since I was the last one to see Frankie before he disappeared, I knew the police would have to question me. I don't mix well with interrogations, they raise my anxiety levels to the roof.

The officer sat opposite me was relentlessly staring at me. He appears to be really tall from afar, but when you get closer, you can see that he is an average five-foot-something; he just appears taller because he has got that menacing look about him, the kind of look that makes you feel insignificant with just a twitch of his eyebrow. His narrow temples are dusted with a light grey, but the rest of his head displays a full, bushy, jet black mane. His face is rigid and rough with experience-life experience, crime experience, military experience. He has that kind of face that suggests to you that he might be a dirty cop, a criminal on the inside.

He smacked his lips together and took another look at his notes.

"So, Nathan-" He began.

"Nate." I corrected, I severely dislike my name. It sounds girly to me and Nate is the only possible way for me to be able to not physically cringe when someone says my name. Most cops know to address me as Nate by now, but I guess the abominable gummy bear over here doesn't.

The cop slowly and menacingly lifted his head up and clenched his jaw. He stopped the recording and dangerously but calmly placed his hand on the desk. The man flashed a sarcastic and slightly angry smile. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation for his reaction. Whilst I feel like I'm on the verge of a full force anxiety attack, I keep my cool about me. An interrogation ain't an interrogation without a little bit of sarcasm and mock humor, right?

"Nathan. I am not here to play your silly little games." – "I know you, and I know your family. So if you want to walk out of here a free guy, you keep your fucking mouth shut and speak when spoken to. Okay?" He spat, but somehow kept a sarcastic smile on his face as he started to chew on the end of his blue biro pen, after keeping eye contact with me for a few seconds he turned the recording on for a second time. I figured I should just go along with it, I didn't need to be charged with suspected kidnapping and probably murder at the age of fourteen. You get the chair if you're found guilty for first degree murder, kid or not.

The officer looked down at me and sat up straight in his chair.

"My name is G.S Davis, I work at Tulsa General Police Station. My role today is to interview you in relation to the offence you've been arrested for. I will be making notes during the interview purely for my reference." He started. I was already sick of his voice.

"Can you give your full name and date of birth please. And can you confirm for the purpose of the tape that there are no other persons present in the interview room." It wasn't really a question, more of a demand.

"Nathan Lewis Shepard, February 23rd 1951. And uh, yeah there's no one else in here…" I answered sarcastically, this was just annoying now.

"I now need to caution you, and it is important that you understand what the caution means, so you do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?" He seemed tired, I think he needs a new job. I nodded.

"Nathan. Where were you on the night of Francis Monatello's disappearance?" He asked, putting extra emphasis on my name this time. The fucking bastard. If I know one thing, it's that I had nothing to do with Frankie going missing. I mean, yeah him and I weren't exactly the best of friends but I didn't have it out for the kid that bad. He isn't even thirteen yet for pete's sake.

I hesitated for a moment to think. "I was at a friends house." I replied simply, which wasn't a lie. So what if we were smoking pot, it's just unnecessary information. I put my left ankle on my right knee and slouched even further into the uncomfortable chair. You know the chairs that they have in the cafeteria at school, the metal ones. But I guess that depends what school you go to.

"Who was this said friend?" His badge read 'Private G.S. Davies'. I bet that made him feel real important, trying to scare innocent kids into confessing to a crime that they didn't commit just because the police force is full of fucking idiots who can't even solve who had the last doughnut at lunch last week.

"Brent Austin." I said coolly, he sure as hell didn't scare me. He could tilt his head and flex his 'muscles' at me all he wanted. I have two older brothers that would kick his ass into next week if I just said the word.

"Understood…" He drawled. "Had you spoken to Francis on the night he went missing? – If not, when was the last time?" The man solicited again. I was pretty tired, I didn't have time for this shit. He knows full well I had fuck all to do with Frankie going missing. They just need someone to place the blame on, and judging from not only mine but my families reputation, It would be quite believable. Frankie and I got into a scrap a couple of months ago but it was nothing major. I was stoned and he was being all pissy about something, I back handed him around the head a couple of times and told him to take himself home before he gets himself hurt.

Frank was a pretty cool twelve year old. He was pretty short for his age and he had platinum blonde hair accompanied by bright blue eyes. The kid was the type that people actually stopped in the street to admire how innocent looking he was. The main thing I can pinpoint about him is that he was always wearing a white, blue and red checked flannel shirt with a plain white t-shirt under it. I don't know where the kid is, I like to think he found a way out of this gang life but deep down I know something bad happened to him. That poor little guy, man.

"No, I didn't speak to him on the night he went missing." – "We spoke once or twice and we'd always smile when we passed each other in the street. We were buddies, Frankie and me. But far from friends." I shrugged and rolled my eyes when I got scowled at. It didn't look like I was going to get charged for this which was good. No doubt would Brent be in for an interrogation session with Mr Stumpy, good luck to him with that. Brent is the cockiest son of a bitch I have ever met, you'd have a better chance of not losing the will to live if you were to talk to a brick wall or something. He's a tough cookie, he's a couple of months older than me so he's going to be turning fifteen in about three months. He has wavy dark brown-almost black hair which he spikes up into a quiff with hair grease and tough green eyes. He acts the fearless outgoing tough guy but deep down he's the same scared little boy that watched his big brother jump off the bridge that connects Tulsa to the city.

Brent had an older brother called Peter-Jae who threw himself off a bridge when he was sixteen because he was going to be sentenced to the electric chair for first degree murder of a Soc called James Willmannor. Everyone knew it was manslaughter but James' family hired the best lawyer in district to prove him guilty of murder and that they did. Brent was seven at the time so it was almost 8 years ago now.

"I know you think you're being smart but you need to understand that you are a suspect, Nathan." He shuffled his papers and leaned slightly closer to me. I had to fight the urge to laugh.

"I already told you! I didn't do anything!" I was getting pissed off now, I wish they'd just give up and frame someone else. I mean c'mon, why would I want to do Frankie over?

"Bullshit, we know you had something to do with this." He snickered and took a sip of his cold coffee. The sight of him was making me feel fucking sick.

"Well then you don't know shit." – "I'm telling you now pal, I didn't do fucking anything, alright?"

"That sure as hell isn't what it looks like, so you can either start talking or we can pin the charges on you. And god forbid, but if Frankie is found dead you will be held responsible." He narrowed his eyes at me and I sat up in my chair, crossed my arms and remained silent. I refused to answer any further questions. This jackass knew I didn't do it.

"I'm now handing you the notice that explains what happens to the tapes. The time is now 2230 hours and the interview is concluded and I'm now switching off the tapes." He signaled for the other officer to come into the room and he downed the rest of his his coffee before angrily slamming and smashing the cup onto the table.

"Find a cell for this piece of shit until the morning." He stood up and scowled at me, I smiled widely and waved.

As I was being handcuffed he continued to stare at me. "I think you have anger issues." I laughed at him, I turned to the officer cuffing me "Do you think he has anger issues? I do." I could have sworn I saw the cops lips twitch up into a slight smirk whilst the other one looked at me completely deadpan.

xxx

I got out in the morning, free of charge as predicted. I walked up the five flights of stairs to Curly's, mine and Tim's apartment. We moved out of our house when Angela moved in with Aunt Maya down south and mum and Shawn went on a 'holiday' which they haven't returned from after two years. The apartment block does have a lift but it is so full of dirty old newspapers, dead birds and poorly drawn graffiti, I'm not even sure I want to spend the mere two minutes in it.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Is what I was greeted with when I walked through the front door, Curly is such a mother hen.

"Chill, dude. I got hauled in because of that Frankie kid goin' missing, I got a bit pissy with the cop and got kept for the night. No biggie." I shrugged, Tim was sat with his legs resting on the coffee table and was looking at me whilst smirking and shaking his head.

"Sometimes I think you're too much like me, kid." He got up and ruffled my hair and lightly punched me on the shoulder in a brotherly type way. Things have been looking up recently since we got out of that depressing house, I think all of us were near breaking point staying there.

"So what'd they try framing you for this time, short stuff?" Curly asked, sitting backwards on one of the wooden kitchen chairs, smoking a cigarette, keeping his emotionless deadpan face on him the entire time. Only grinning when I rolled my eyes at the nickname.

"They thought I fuckin' killed the poor kid, just shows what a reputation can get you into." I smiled, aiming that at Tim who playfully kicked me.

"The fuzz must be gettin' pretty desperate if they're framing fourteen year olds for things as bad as murder now. We best keep our heads down, Curly." – "And by that, I mean don't go shoutin' your mouth off to every Tom Dick and Harry about how much shit you've been causing lately." Tim growled at Curly, I snickered but got a scolding look of my older brothers.

"Aw c'mon Tim, stop treatin' me like a little kid. I ain't fuckin' stupid." He was getting bitchy now, this really never ended well.

"Oh yeah, that's why you climbed a fuckin' telephone pole and broke your arm is it?" Tim looked at me and winked.

"That was six months ago!" Curly whined but laughed. Curly looks a lot like our dad, he has dark hair with dark eyes and freckles. He's also reasonably tall, an inch or two smaller than Tim though. He's gonna be turning sixteen on October the seventh, that's still about four months away though.

"Nate, you know that kid Mikey something , right?" Tim asked. Oh I knew Michael Wade better than he knew himself. And the realisation of that is that he is probably the biggest prick going. I've had endless amounts of fights with him even though he's older than Curly. He's one of the little brothers of the Brumly boys, one of the three greaser gangs in Tulsa. He's only about 5'6 but he's still taller than me, I'm only about 5'3 hence the nickname short stuff. Mikey has light blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that falters across his forehead. He's an asshole.

"He's lookin' for you, apparently." Tim smirked at me, I admire the confidence he has in me when I have none in myself.

"Fuckin' great." I sighed and flopped down onto the sofa. I needed to go to sleep. Police cells aren't really that good for getting a good nights kip.

My life sure is a roller-coaster.


I'm in two minds if I should continue this story into a full fic or not, I need opinions guys. Thanks!