Chapter Twenty-Two Three/Time, part one.

(Don't worry, this isn't another stupid two-part trial thing, but I'm not sure what else to call it besides "part one." This is a chapter that I was nearly done writing when a different idea, a better idea, sparked in my head for how to end this thing. So, I offer you readers a choice. I've decided to post them both.

Part One: That's this one. It's incredibly straight-forward and has no action whatsoever. It tells you how the clues tie up and stuff.

Part Two: That's the next chapter. That one is more fun. It doesn't quite follow the clues, but it adds more clues that are far more obvious.

Personally, I reccomend reading part two and then part one.)

Connor Bradshaw entered the interrogation room, sweating profusely and nervously, his teeth chattering, his hands shaking. He sat down in front of Warrick, Nick, and Greg, taking out a tissue to blow his nose, which was running. They had never seen an innocent person shake like this before, unless it was a child, but there's a first to everything. They weren't here to prosecute him, they had no evidence against him. But they weren't going to let him know that.

"So, Officer Bradshaw," Nick said in his best serious voice, "it seems as though you've been fooling off on your job."

"Fooling - fooling off?" stammered Bradshaw, his eyes darting around the room. "Don't know...don't know what you mean."

The three of them gave him a hard look. "Your interview," Greg continued, "states that you heard a gunshot while you were out of the room."

"Yes, I did," Bradshaw confirmed, slightly less nervous.

"So why were you out of the room?"

Bradshaw breathed a sigh of relief, genuinely calmed by this question. "Is that all?" He laughed modestly. "I thought you were gonna..." he laughed a little more. The three of them stared, wondering why he was laughing in such a serious situation, especially since he had been nervous a few seconds ago.

"Well...answer the question," Greg pressed.

"I went out twice," Bradshaw answered. "First, I went to get the food. It's my job to do that, Wolfie prefers to stay and keep an eye on 'em while I go out. And I came back in and I gave 'em the food."

"And that's how you slipped him the Lunesta," Nick said seriously.

"Er...yeah." said Bradshaw, turning red. "Look, I already told you I was sorry about that," he pleaded to Greg.

"Relax, we're not persecuting you for that," Greg answered. The officer breathed another sigh of relief. "What was the second time?"

"Food again," he said. "Me and Wolfie were on duty a long, long time. From after the trial 'till early in the mornin'. That's when I heard the gunshot."

"But wait...the murder occured at night," said Warrick. "Weren't you taken off duty when Roger was taken into custody for the murder?"

"No, it didn't," said Bradshaw. "It happened that morning."

The three of them sat up, confused. "What do you mean?" shouted Nick. "Of course the murder happened at night, that's why no one's sure who did it. It was dark-"

"I think I know what I'm talking about," said Bradshaw. "Don't you people read the newspaper? 'David Mason, found dead in his cell the morning after his trial,'" he quoted. "What's you CSIs assuming it was at night?"

"You said it yourself!" said Greg, noting the interview. "I asked, 'were you on duty at the time of David Mason's murder,' and you said 'that was a bad night'!"

"Did I?" said Bradshaw, although there was no nervousness in his voice. "Well, I wasn't lying. It was a bad night. That guy wouldn't shut up. But he wasn't killed until morning."

"But it was dark..." Nick protested, but was interrupted.

"Of course it was dark," said Bradshaw, "there's no windows in there, it's a closed-off room, and the light's been acting funny. It was dark even when the sun was out. You've been in that room for your investigation. Tell me it wasn't dark."

But they couldn't tell him it wasn't dark, because it was. They had all dismissed the fact that when it said he was found dead in the morning, it actually meant he was killed in the morning. All three of them were simultaneously mentally slapping themselves for such a bad assumption.

"Thank you for your time," Warrick muttered, and the guard got up and left the room.

"Fat lotta help that was," Nick said when the door had closed behind him. "All we learned is that we're not fit for this investigation." He sighed, wishing that they had solved the case and were on to a more simple one, one that didn't involve people he had met, people whose cases he had been personally involved with. He buried his face in his hands, wondering if they should even bother bringing in Larson Wolfe, when a cry from Warrick answered his question.

"Bring in the other suspect!" he called, and both Greg and Nick looked over at his triumphant face. 'Suspect' is not a word one usually uses when referring to cops, and they hadn't used it when referring to the other cop. Which could only mean one thing: he had figured something out.

The door opened again, and this time, a skinny man walked in, completely calm as though he did this every day, answers planned in his mind. He sat down. Warrick's eyes narrowed.

"So, how are you?" Wolfe asked folding his arms. "Investigation going well?"

"No," said Greg honestly, forgetting he was interrogating someone. Nick elbowed him in the ribs to remind him of this fact, and he fell silent.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, "but I don't know why you're bringing me in. I already answered all your questions."

"You lied," said Warrick. Nick, Greg, and Wolfe looked over at him in surprise.

"I beg your pardon," said Wolfe. "I didn't lie. I even told you about my history with the suspects. If there's something else, I guess I just forgot to mention it."

"Oh," said Warrick sarcastically. "And I suppose you also forgot that you weren't the person who fed the suspects that evening. Or...that morning."

Nick's eyes widened. Suddenly he understood everything. It was so clear at this moment that he felt stupid for ever suspecting the murder to be a suicide. He wanted to shout out everything he knew about the case, but kept quiet as to not tell the suspect his ideas, saying nothing except muttering three words to himself. "Time is everything," he whispered.

Wolfe's face remained relatively calm, but he couldn't hide the fact that the color had drained. "Oh, I guess I wasn't," he said. "I've done guard duty so many times, I've lost track."

"Bullshit," said Nick, restraining himself no longer. "Our evidence says that you stated that Roger Mason stole your gun when you went in to feed him. Were you mistaken on the fact that he stole your gun, too?"

"No!" cried Wolfe at once. "Of course not! I guess he must've taken it at some other point..."

"He didn't have the chance at 'some other point,'" said Warrick. "The clock says you and Bradshaw checked in after the Mason brothers were securely locked in their cells. And we've been in there. He couldn't have reached through the bars and grabbed it without you noticing."

"The coroner," Greg added, enlightened, "stated that the bullet wound was straight on, like someone had shot him at close range and knew exactly what they were aiming for." He stood up, also understand, at last, who the killer really was. He pointed at him."You..." he said, his voice shaking. "You killed him. You killed him and you framed Roger for it."

Wolfe gave a sinister smile that reminded Greg strongly and ironically of the person who was certainly not innocent, but he was still the person he murdered.

"What did you expect?" he said. "Neither of them deserved the jobs they got, and they didn't appreciate them enough to keep them. They should have both gone to jail, but the judges...they were talking about dismissing Roger of the charges. I couldn't allow that. Not after all they'd done. And all they'd done to me. They abandoned me. And I got this stupid job. A criminal baby-sitter! That's what I am!"

He threw his badge down on the table and stood up, ready to be arrested. Tom escorted him from the room in a pair of handcuffs.

"You know what this means?" Greg said. "Catching David's murderer?"

Warrick nodded. "We drop those charges on Roger," he said and the three of them smiled.