Chapter 43: The Man Who Vanished
Only one overhead light illuminated the tiny space, creating sharp shadows on the table. Rain had begun as a light drizzle outside and was now tapping lightly at the window like fingers drumming a warning from a distance. Across from me sat David. His eyes, a shade of dull blue, flicked to the table and back up to meet mine. His fingers twitched intermittently, restless, nervous.
But fear alone didn't make a man guilty.
I put my gloved hands on the cold metal surface between us and leaned forward a little. Wet from the heat that was already seeping in from the outside, my coat weighed heavy on my shoulders. There was a slight fragrance of sweat and wetness in the air.
"David," I said in a composed tone. "Let's talk about the lighters in your locker."
He scowled. "The lighters?"
I nodded slowly. "One half is full, the other is intensively used. Would you mind explaining?"
He paused. He shifted in his chair, his tongue darting out and moistening his lower lip. His voice was tense. "Yeah... yeah, I can explain that," he said. "I... uh... started smoking."
I tilted my head. "Smoking?"
"Yeah." He rubbed his palms together, then gestured vaguely with his left hand. "Started right after Chief Ryan died. After the fires started. I needed... something." He laughed dryly. "I know it sounds stupid, but the stress was getting to me. I kept flicking the lighter out of habit, even when I wasn't smoking."
The explanation made sense. I jotted it down in my notebook, but kept my eyes on him. The nervous energy remained—but it wasn't the kind of tension I'd expect from a liar.
My Psychological Insight skill hummed faintly in my mind as it leveled up, like a distant engine revving up.