“Now, want to tell me about what happened last night?” Montgomery checked his watch. Substantial and gold. “Or, I guess, more like early this morning.”
Anything I said would be twisted and used against me. Although it hadn’t been mentioned, I was sure a recording of some sort was being made. The less I said, the better. But total silence would be construed as failure to cooperate. Reported to my parole officer.
“Not much to tell.” I stared at the scarred surface of the table. Was that irregular dark stain blood?
“Come on,” Montgomery urged. His dark face radiated false concern. “If you tell us what happened, maybe we can clear all this up quickly.”
And move on to charging me, I thought. I shook my head.
“You report for work. Mitch gets all up in your face. Calls you a sex offender. We know that much from talking to other people. Let’s hear your side of it.” He leaned his face closer to mine. I could smell his minty breath.
I had nothing to add. “You know as much as I do. More, probably.”
“Must have made you mad,” Montgomery suggested.
“No, sir,” I replied.
“Aw, come on. Sex offender? Would have made anybody mad.”