Free Coding Isis by David Roys

suspect. The evidence had been laid before him by Naylor and he knew he was starting to look guilty and when they swabbed his hands, they would probably find residue from his shooting session on Sunday afternoon. It was time to get some professional help. He needed a good lawyer and was pleased that his father-in-law was one of the best. Michelle’s father, Bob Whittaker, was a senior partner at Whittaker and Brown, one of D.C.’s premier law firms. Chris called Bob and asked him to come over to the station and to call Michelle, tell her he was OK and not to worry. Bob was with a client, but said he would be over in less than half an hour. He got the impression that he had decided to drop what he was doing and get over. Family comes first.
    Chris sat on a bunk in a holding cell. The room was twelve feet by six with a toilet, sink, and a single bunk bed with springs that creaked and groaned as he sat. The room smelt sterile, like a hospital, with a slight hint of coffee and cigarettes. He hadn’t been arrested, but he figured it was just a matter of time. He should probably just get up and demand to be let out, but he didn’t want to push things. That may be all Naylor was waiting for to place him under arrest, and Chris really didn’t want that additional complication in his life. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. He went through the events of the last few days and could see why Naylor was pushing him hard. He probably had the closest relationship with Jasmine out of everyone in D.C., but he knew that that didn’t mean much. She was a loner, and she was desperate to learn from him. He was the last person, as far as he knew, that had seen her alive. All fairly innocent so far, but then there were other things. The email, the phone message: they made it look like there was more going on than there actually was. Why the hell did she have to start sending emails like that? Why now? It’s not like they were having any kind of relationship. Chris thought about his gun and the session at the gun club. They would soon figure out he had been shooting a handgun within the last forty-eight hours. He had a legitimate reason, and the records at the gun club would show that he was there, shooting targets. Unfortunately they would also show that he had been there the following day for a brief visit, to collect his phone, but he knew how it looked. The cops would think that he had gone to the club and collected his weapon, then after killing Jasmine had returned it to the club the following day. The only thing in Chris’s favor was that he was an intelligent man and only a stupid person or a madman would kill their own student with their own handgun and then put it back in their locker. He really hoped Naylor was smart enough to figure that out.
    The cell door opened and in walked Bob. He looked sharp in his expensive, tailor-made suit and Italian leather shoes. He wore a Rolex wristwatch that cost more than Chris’s car. He held out his arms wide. Chris stood and gave the man a hug.
    Chris said, ‘Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.’
    ‘It’s OK Chris. I’ve called Michelle, she knows you’re fine. She’s a bit worried, but she’s happy that I’m here to help you. Now listen to me, you haven’t been arrested, at the moment you’re simply helping them with their enquiries. We’re going to have a chat with Detective Naylor, I don’t want you to say a thing. Let me handle this. We’ll be home for dinner, and then I can see how you’re looking after that beautiful wife of yours. OK?’
    Bob’s smile was reassuring and Chris began to feel better, no wonder he was so good at his job. Finally, Chris felt his world was starting to make sense again. He said, ‘You make it sound so easy, but there’s a lot of evidence stacking up against me.’
    Bob took a long and serious look at his son-in-law. ‘Did you kill that girl?’ he said.
    ‘No. No I didn’t,’ said