Accused Of Murder

This was not what I expected. I didn't expect to wake up in a holding cell in the local police station. I especially didn't expect to be accused of murder.

"You've gotta be kidding me. You actually think I killed someone, Carlos? What a load of bullcrap," I hissed, slamming my hands onto the table in between us. I watched Carlos flinch, a feeling of satisfaction crawling through my veins.

"I'm sorry, Emery. But, everyone thinks you did it. You have been in this station more times than anyone could count." I let out a scoff and flopped back into the chair behind me, crossing my arms over my chest.

"The only reason I've been in here so many times is because your coworkers seem to think they can pin the blame on tiny little things. Like spray painting a building." I tossed my feet onto the table and leaned the chair back on two legs.

Carlos let out a sigh and rubbed a hand down his face. "That's because you did spray paint the building."

"That's besides the point," I stated,

waving my hand with a bored look. "The point is, is that you decided to force me out of my house, giving Lou an absolute heart attack by the way, and shove me in a holding cell. And now you're interrogating me. What proof do you have that I was the one to actually do it? Was it because it was by my home? Because you found my fingerprints on the body?" I let the chair slam to the ground and reached to wiggle my fingers in his face.

Carlos slapped my hands away, an angered look slipping past his indifferent look.

A smirk twisted into my face.

Success.

Carlos always talks more when he's pissed.