Chapter 29: The Real Drew

Drew sat at the table where he faced the door, wearing black shoes, jeans, a faded shirt that used to be dark green, and a pair of metal handcuffs that linked his wrists together.

His dark ashy brown hair was starting to gray, despite dying his hair to make himself look younger although he was twice my age, old enough to be my father. He stared at the table, chestnut brown eyes flickering occasionally to a talkative Kerry and the mirror but never saying a word.

He sat in the same chair I'd sat in only five months ago. He'd have never known that I was standing on the other side, seeing him in a different way. He wasn't just my next-door neighbor anymore; he was a murder suspect.

He hadn't so much as said a word to me since our last conversation.

'Drew, I think you're a great neighbor.'

'But you don't like me that way, huh?' God, he had sounded so disappointed. So crestfallen.

'I don't, but I'm sure there's a nice woman who will. You just have to be brave and keep looking.'

'I've stopped looking since…' Drew had trailed off, staring at me.

I gathered the same vibes from him that day as I had with Creepy Guy. That same unsettling feeling after catching that similar longing, unrequited look from across the room at Frank's.

I knew what he was going to say. 'I'd stopped looking since I saw you' or some lovesick poetic cliché that I'd heard one too many times back in high school and repeatedly through movie tropes. I'd tried to let him down easy, but it hadn't felt like he was getting the picture.

'You should keep looking.' I'd said in what I hoped to be an encouraging tone. Looking back, maybe I could've been more tactful, but tact wasn't my strongest suit either.

Either way, I'd purely meant it in a 'there's always Tinder' kind of way, not a 'Maybe you should go kill a woman because fuck rejection' kind of a way.

Maybe I was jumping the gun here, speculating without anything to go on. The prosecution had the highest burden of proof to show without a reasonable doubt that Drew was guilty of murdering those three women. As it was, there was no evidence linking him to any of the murdered women—no fingerprints, semen, nothing, at least according to Kerry. His confession was Homicide's smoking gun. If they had that, this thing was a slam dunk.

If Drew was guilty, that was.

I was speculating, just like Kerry and Mark. No more aware of his true actions than Internal Affairs' assuming Mallard had been of mine.

I stood in the observation room, watching Drew. He stared absent-mindedly at Kerry as she sat in the chair across from him, clasping her hands in front of her as though they were going to start this interrogation once again.

Was he capable of killing a woman? Was he capable of killing anyone?

The first interrogation had lasted three hours with no concrete progress. How long was this one going to last?

Two hours?

…Four?

"What do you know about him?"

I startled, hearing Mark's voice. I'd honestly forgotten that he'd been standing right next to me, watching Drew just as I had been. His attention now seemed solely focused on me.

"Not much." I admitted, turning my eyes back to Drew.

"You said he's a neighbor."

"He lives next door to me. To us. He lives in the house on our left."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew him."

"I didn't know he was your suspect. Neither you nor Kerry mentioned names. All I ever heard were pronouns." I reminded.

"Fair enough." Mark crossed his arms, leaning on his side against the wall as he said offhandedly, "What's your tie to him?"

"Are you asking if I have an attachment?"

"I'm asking if your plan to talk to the suspect is going to remain as objective as you'd originally planned before realizing who he was."

"The only difference between then and now is that I recognize him. Aside from that, we're practically strangers."

"You said you've known him for three years."

"That really doesn't mean much."

"What do you mean by that?"

I shrugged. "There's proof in the world where people who are related or have been together for literally years but don't know each other that well. They couldn't say what their birthday is, or whether they like their steak medium rare or well done. They simply don't know who the other person is despite the time they've spent together." (I nodded towards Drew.) "He's been my neighbor for three years, but I couldn't tell you his last name or if his name is really Drew."

Mark's expression subtly changed from standoffish to contemplation.

"How often do you interact with him?"

"Sometimes, I'd see him on my morning jog or I'd come home late from work—he'd make small talk. He'd offer to bring in my groceries, that sort of buy-in. He was awkward, but I never perceived him to be whatever you think he is now."

Mark clicked his tongue. "Just like you didn't perceive Grady to be a premeditating murderer."

I rolled my eyes. "If you'd recall, I said he wasn't the pragmatic sort."

"He stole a gun with the intent of killing you and your security guard. That sounds like something a pragmatist might do, don't you think?"

"I'd say getting the gun was more of an impulse than premeditation, like the impulse of buying gum at the check-out counter."

"Buying gum at a register and stealing a weapon to kill a security guard and a restaurant owner two days later are two very different impulses."

I gave him a look. "What do you want me to say? I'm an empath. Not a mind reader. I can't be expected to predict human behavior or what these people will do step-by-step."

Mark sighed, seeming to step away from that topic before asking in an all too familiar interrogative tone, "Why haven't you heard from him in the past five months?"

"I suspected it's because he tried getting my number."

"Excuse me?"

"It's not as sordid as it sounds. He's liked me since I moved into the neighborhood," I explained, gesturing to him. "One day, he made a pass at me. I told him that I wasn't interested."

"When did this happen?" Mark asked.

"Ooh, you sound jealous." I snickered.

He sent me a look before he said flatly, "Just answer the question."

"The morning after you and I first slept together."

"How did he take it?"

"He took it as well as anyone else might've taken rejection."

Mark said darkly, "Maybe not."

He watched Drew for a moment, observing him through the two-way mirror. Meanwhile, Kerry was on the other side, trying to entice him into a conversation that didn't seem to interest him.

"So, why do you suspect him?" I asked.

"A few witnesses saw him leaving the bar with the girls."

"Oh, well, so you do have something to go on, then. Who are your witnesses?"

"A few bartenders."

"'Bartenders'?"

"Each bartender recognized and identified him as having spoken to all three women at a bar on the night they were killed." Mark said dryly, glancing at me.

"Alright…?"

"They all have the same story," He explained.

"Which is?"

"They watched him talk to the victim, buy her drinks—"

"—Buying drinks for women and picking them up aren't indicators of murderous intent."

"Alexis, he left with the victim in each of these three circumstances."

"According to the bartenders." I emphasized.

"You don't sound too convinced."

"I'm just saying, how can a bartender remember every single face that walks in and pays for a drink? It's near impossible."

"If Leslie or Diana told you they remembered a face, would you believe them?"

"Lee is a people-person; she remembers faces. Just not names. Dee is the same way. But thanks for making this interview up close and personal."

"Three different bartenders specifically remembered him." He continued, indicated Drew. "All three recognized him."

"Did you put him in a line-up with other guys that might look like him?"

Mark scowled. "I know how to do my job."

"I'm not telling you how to do it." I said patiently. "I'm just trying to figure out what you all know so when I go in there, I have an idea what kind of person I'm dealing with. So…did you put him in a line-up with other guys that look like him or did you just show some picture to the bartenders, hoping that it'd jog their memory?"

"No line-up needed." Mark returned, albeit begrudgingly.

"Oh, yeah?"

"He made a lasting impression, evidently."

"That's interesting."

"Is it?"

"It is for me, personally, seeing how I've always found him to be somewhat forgettable and lacking in charm."

"And yet, you remember him making a pass at you, despite the fact that it happened five months ago."

"Yeah, because when he did, it was surprisingly smooth."

Mark said sarcastically, "I'm surprised you rejected him then."

"No surprise, really. His Beta puppy charm simply fell short after I spent a night with an Alpha." I assured, crossing my arms.

I smiled inwardly when Mark's grumpy expression softened to one of subtle flattery.

Men and their egos: They just needed reminding that we desired them just as they wanted us. Once they realized they reigned supreme to the other lions in the pride, they were sweet again, secure in their virility.

That gave me an idea.

"I think I know how to get him to talk."

"That is an ambiguous segue." He watched me take off my engagement ring and put it in my pocket, saying curiously, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to play the role of the femme fatale."

"And you're going to do that by…?"

"By pretending I'm not engaged."

"I'm not comfortable with that at all."

"Neither am I. But have you ever met a committed femme fatale before? They don't exist."

"Maybe I should go in with you."

"That's not going to help sell the charade." I glanced at Kerry, who peered over her shoulder at the mirror as if impatiently waiting for me to make my astounding entrance. "From the look of it, you two only have one chance of getting his confession before he walks away for good."

Mark took my arm just as I headed out to the hallway and pulled me into the room, pressing my back against the wall. I met his eyes, and there was something primal that looked back at me before something else took over.

"Do you trust me?" I asked quietly.

"I trust you. Him, not so much."

"I think you're just afraid that he's not going to confess."

"What he isn't going to do is not my highest priority for the moment."

"Oh?"

"It's what he could do." Mark emphasized as he caressed my face. "To you."

"So protective…" I smiled, taking his hand. "I'm kind of getting used to it."

He cautioned, "If you don't want to do this…"

"I know you're not going to be satisfied until you get his confession. Particularly since he lives right beside us."

He said half-heartedly, "Satisfaction isn't in my nature."

"Surrender isn't in mine."

After a few seconds of due consideration, he kissed me and I returned it. All his love and tenderness became communicated through that notion alone, and I found myself wishing I could take it a little further.

When it broke naturally, Mark's voice returned to that instructive tone he'd used previously with Kerry.

"In the instant you feel unsafe or no longer wish to continue, just leave the room."

I said confidently, "I'm willing to bet that he'll want to leave first."

"I'm hoping that's all he'll want."

"That's all he's going to get." I smirked. "I guess now you'll get to see my bad cop."

"Just be careful, sweetheart."

"You got it, boss." I playfully saluted him and headed into the interrogation room.

Once I stepped through the white metal box, Kerry glanced up over Drew's shoulder. He precariously turned in his seat.

"Hi, Drew." I greeted softly.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth once I'd said his name.

I stood next to Kerry, who said much too sweetly, "We thought bringing a friend of yours might help you feel more relaxed. At ease if you will. Maybe you'll start talking now."

"I'll talk."

Kerry appeared satisfied with that answer.

Until he spoke again.

"But only to her." Drew said stonily, gesturing to me with one hand but instantly doing so with both due to his wrists being linked by the handcuffs.

"That's fine. I'll just sit here and listen."

Drew glowered at her, his seemingly frail disposition faltering to something more demanding and harder to impress. "I want to talk to her alone."

"You're a murder suspect." Kerry said starkly. "You're not going to be left alone with a civilian."

"You don't have to leave the building. Just the room. You can listen outside, behind that mirror where I know your other cop buddies are listening."

I looked up at the mirror, knowing Mark was watching this stalemate as it progressed nowhere.

Kerry glanced between Drew and me, obviously seeing the familiarity and said suspiciously, "Do you two know each other?"

"Alexis and I are neighbors," Drew said happily as if this would reassure Kerry of his innocuous intentions. "If you don't believe me, ask her."

Kerry peered at me as if beckoning for a confirmation. I wordlessly nodded.

"We haven't spoken in a few months. Five, to be specific. I think we have a lot of catching up to do, wouldn't you say, Alexis?" Drew said smoothly, a contrast to his otherwise awkward nature to which I'd been accustomed.

"Regardless, I'm not leaving. Not even if you two were the best of friends."

"Then I'm not going to say anything."

"That's fine with me."

"Why don't you just leave for fuck's sake, huh?" Drew pressed irritably as he scowled.

Kerry smiled sarcastically. "That's the first real emotion I've seen eek out of you all day. Sounds like you have something to say after all."

He gritted his teeth and sneered at her, "I don't have anything to say to you, you little bitch."

"It's 'Detective'! Not 'bitch'." I corrected sternly. "Show her some respect."

A shit-eating grin replaced his snarl as if he'd heard a better offer than having me in the room with him. "Or?"

"There's no 'or'." I chastised. "Having manners doesn't cost anything, Drew. She's been nothing but polite to you this entire time, why don't you show her the same courtesy?"

"Oh, right…I forget that you have a soft spot for cops."

I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for the apology.

He smiled at Kerry and his voice dripped with sarcasm as he simpered, "Excuse my overtly hostile behavior, Detective. I'm extremely sorry for insulting you. However, with your permission, I'd ask if you would kindly leave us alone."

Kerry looked at the mirror then at me.

"We're fine." I muttered.

"Alexis—"

"—Just…" I gestured to the door. "It's fine."

Kerry bit her bottom lip before standing up and taking my shoulder, whispering in my ear, "The moment you feel unsafe—"

"—I'll leave the room. Thank you."

Kerry and I exchanged glances and I hinted towards the door. Mark would explain the rest to her, although I already knew he was shaking his head. We weren't two minutes into this charade, and I was already breaking one of his stipulations: Kerry was leaving me alone with Drew.

In the instant she left, Drew grinned widely at me. Admittedly, he creeped me out more than Creepy Guy ever could have.

I took a seat in the chair Kerry had previously occupied, my back to the mirror and the door.

"Alone at last." Drew drawled, his fingers drumming the table.

"Alone at last." I repeated. "Let's talk."