Page 54 of Kiss Kiss Bang
Joey picked up his phone and called the detective handling the case. The photos were too blurry and even though the facial recognition was really accurate, with just that alone, it wouldn’t be enough to hold him. But if Olivia could positively ID him then the charges could stick.
After he hung up, he turned to her. “Get dressed. We’re going to take a little trip to the police station.”
“I hope it’s him.”
“Me too, darlin’. Me too.” He kissed her cheek and went outside to get Sophie while Olivia got ready.
* * *
In the car, Joey suggested that Annie watch Sophie at ICS while they went to the police station. He wasn’t comfortable with Sophie being in that “environment” and Olivia wasn’t comfortable answering the thousands of questions Sophie would undoubtedly have, so she agreed. It was such a thoughtful gesture, she fell a little bit more in like with him.
But now, as they waited behind a one-way glass window, just like on television, for the detective to bring out the perp, she began to panic and felt nauseous. She thought herself a strong person and was surprised at how scared she actually was, even knowing full well that she was safe behind glass, in a different room, with Joey, in a police station—how much safer could she possibly be?
“Okay, Ms. Russo, you ready?” Detective Smith asked.
She took a deep breath and nodded.
“We’re going to bring out five different men, facing away from you since you saw the blurry photo from the camera. We do this so that you’re not prejudiced by what you saw earlier or by having just the one guy we arrested here. They’re all going to say: ‘Pretty little thing, that Sophie.’”
It was the sentence that she kept replaying in her head over and over again. The words that she most clearly remembered him saying and would never, not until she took her last breath, forget the sound of. The thought of hearing it again sent chills down her spine.
“You okay?” Joey asked, but again she just nodded. Words had escaped her and she thought if she opened her mouth she’d throw up.
The door in the room was opened and five men who looked relatively similar, at least from the back, entered. All Caucasian, around five-eleven, about two hundred or so pounds, all wearing blue hoodies and a baseball cap.
“Anything recognizable, other than what they wore?”
“No.” She shrugged. “They all look the same from the back.”
“Okay. Number one, say the line.” Number one walked forward, pressed an intercom button, and spoke the words. She shuddered at hearing them said.
“Number two,” the officer said, and the second man repeated the process. She squeezed Joey’s hand when he spoke those words.
“Number three,” the officer said. And the third guy took the step forward and repeated the process but this time, as soon as the first word had left his mouth, with the cadence of his voice, something passed through her. A memory of a long time ago. She jolted out of her seat. “Tell him to say it again. Slower this time.” The officer pressed the intercom and instructed the guy to repeat the statement slower. There was something with his voice, something that she couldn’t pinpoint, and a weird feeling overcame her.
“It’s him.”
“You’re sure?”
Was she sure? She didn’t want to send someone to jail on a hunch.
“Why don’t we finish with the other two, Ms. Russo?” Then he called number four and then eventually number five. Joey and the detective stared at her and she was chewing her nail. “You sounded confident about number three for a moment.”
Her leg bobbed up and down. “His voice sounds familiar. Remember I said the guy’s voice sounded familiar?” She looked at Joey. “But I . . . I don’t know.”
She needed to think, quietly. But Detective Smith had the five men repeat the sentence. He asked her to close her eyes and really concentrate but again, when they got to three, her hair stood on an end again, the way he drawled out the syllables and there it was a slight New York accent.
“You still okay, Ms. Russo?”
“I’m fine.”
“Baby, are you sure?”
“Positive. I still feel like it’s number three.” She ran her hands up and down her arm. “Well, number three, the one you ID’ed, is the same guy we caught this morning.”
This was good. That meant that it was a match, according to what Joey had explained. “Now we need a motive. Any idea who he is? What’s his name?”
“He wasn’t carrying any identification on him and isn’t being cooperative. We’re checking all the databases.”
