His clothes had been taken for evidence and replaced by what looked to him like baggy orange hospital scrubs. The interrogation room was like most he had seen, except brighter and cleaner. A woman in a gray pants suit stood against the far wall as the corrections officer, or C.O., led Matt to a table in the center of the room. He could smell the coffee that steamed in a paper cup in front of him.
The gray pants suit walked to the table as the C.O. closed the door. She pulled out the metal chair. It made a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. They both winced. She glanced at the coffee and said, “I hope you take it black. I’m Detective Haskie. How’s the head?”
Matt shifted in his chair. His was bolted to the floor. “I’ll live.”
“You’ll live.” She smiled. “That’s an interesting response since the other guy didn’t.” Haskie flipped open a light green folder and consulted a stack of papers. “How well did you know the victim, Mr. West?”
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