As we drove past the motel, I glanced at it and wondered what the hell Morven was up to now.
The station was small. There were six desks at the front and two rooms in the front. “I’m guessing you’re the only detective,” I said as we walked in. Everyone inside stopped and stared at me.
“That I am,” he sighed and opened one of the doors. “I know it says interrogation, but the other room is currently being used.”
I doubted that very much.
Sitting on one side of the table, I glanced at the camera in the corner. Blinking red. That meant it was recording. So far, this seemed to be legitimate.
Detective Warnos was a tall and slender man with salt and pepper hair and round wire-ripped glasses. In his tan-colored suit, he somehow just looked like he followed the letter of the law.
“So, Mr. Ry
