Outwitting the Killer
He sat beside me during the interview, his fingers tightening on my shoulder each time I spoke, like reins jerking a horse’s head. When the detective’s gaze landed on him, his voice softened, his head turned reverent—holier than the collar he wore. The second she stepped out, his eyes found mine and held them hostage. I didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Just counted the seconds until I could breathe again. Now, only a handful of mourners lingered near the grave. Damp…