Free Played: “Sometimes you never know who is playing who, until the damage is done." by Bad-Boy Storyteller

replies, even more flustered than before.
    Cools, childless, considers it his responsibility to persuade people to think twice about coming in here and fabricating stories to get even with coworkers or unfaithful lovers, or to exploit another person’s misfortune. But with Amberly he is getting a good vibe: although she does too many drugs, she is a reliable source of truthful information. So he gives her a hand gesture that offers her permission to speak and says, “Let’s hear what you have to say.”
    “Well…I didn’t say that I wanted you to miss your daughter…not exactly. I just…I just wanted to—”
    “But I did come down here on my visitation day, did I not?” he asks sharply.
    “Yes, but—”
    “So whatever you have to tell me, tell me now!”
    “Okay, it’s like this. I was…I mean, I was only doing a favor for a friend. And then when I heard the story of Joshua calling the radio station last night…I think…I think maybe I made a mistake, but I did what she asked me to do. We do it all the time; it’s no big deal really…I guess, or not…I don’t know.”
    Cools begins to breathe more quickly and shallowly—partly because he wants to know what she does, but mostly due to his lack of patience for female psychobabble.
    “You do what all the time, Amberly?” he asks, pressing her.
    “You know, make sure no one gets hurt or into trouble with boyfriends, and then last night I heard the news…then I called my friend, Justin, and…and he sent me a clip with the radio recording of the thing that Joshua did…and then I knew I was in trouble, real trouble.”
    She starts crying, but he unsentimentally pushes her further. “Why do you think you would be in trouble, Amberly?”
    “Because…you see, Kimberly…she wasn’t there when you called. I…I was just covering for her. Kimberly had this other guy she sees, and you know, I didn’t know you were really a cop; the boyfriends get creative sometimes to find out things. So I told you she was there, but she wasn’t there. And that was the day Joshua did his thing on the radio…and now I think he did something, because the guy, you know…the guy she was seeing—he came into the bar later that same night, and he was looking for her, and nobody’s seen her since.”
    “Oh shit!” Michelle screams so loud it can be heard in the interrogation room, where Cools is now out of his chair, pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself.
    “How could I be so fucking stupid!” he spits out.
    “Am I in trouble…I didn’t…you know, I didn’t want to…I mean, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You have to believe me…I just—”
    That is all Cools hears before escaping into the hallway, where Michelle meets him, so shocked she’s speechless. He grabs her by the arm and makes his way straight for the stairway, so they can talk privately, incoherently cursing under his breath along the way. “How could…I took the word of a stripper named Candy—fucking Candy? I must have lost my fucking mind!”
    Once they’re on the cold staircase, securely away from any cameras or eavesdroppers, Michelle says, “So now I’m interested.” Cools looks to her for anything, hoping she can piece something together that makes sense. Instead, she berates him. “What the hell does this mean, Brad? Did that little prick kill his wife on radio and make fools of us? And then we gave him close to a week to get rid of the evidence? How is that possible? How?”
    “I don’t know Michelle, but we better talk to Captain,” he says, sensing a wicked storm of no mercy falling his way for the mother of all fuck-ups.” He leads a straight course to Captain Jackson’s office, foreseeing future headlines: Top Cop Lets Psycho Killer Go! Detective Cools Fooled by Local Stripper! Was Kimberly Still Alive?
    Thirty seconds later they burst into Captain Jackson’s office. Sitting across his desk is Detective Fredo, also known as JFK (Jack Fredo, the Kiss Ass).
    “Hey! Hey!