DEAD MAN'S JUSTICE - A Place of Evil (Stone & McLeish Thriller Series of Stories Book 2) Read Free Page B

ordered to the uniformed officers next to Stone and they duly snapped a set of handcuffs onto his wrists that he’d been told to hold out in front of him.
    Stone had been on U.S. soil for less than an hour, he hadn’t even had time to call Karla or his daughter. By now he would have been in a rental car heading towards the hotel he’d booked in Brooklyn in readiness for the funeral. Instead, on this cold December day, he was staring at a characterless two-storey grey concrete and brick precinct building. To the right, high on up a flagpole flew the stars and stripes, a beacon of strength and pride. Two things Stone didn’t feel at that moment handcuffed and wrongly accused of murder, strong nor proud.
     
    The car turned off Baisley Boulevard and into the precinct car park. Ramirez slid into an empty parking space in front of the side doors to the station. He braked sharply. Finch lurched forward. He looked sideways at Ramirez but as usual said nothing. They all got out and started to walk towards the entrance steps. Ramirez stepped out in front of Stone to block his path and looked him straight in the eye.
    ‘You might just regret not getting that lawyer Stone.’
    Stone would not be provoked. He stuck to his plan and said nothing. For at least ten seconds the matchstick was motionless, the smirk was taking a breather. Ramirez eventually stepped aside allowing the officers to escort Stone into the building.
    ‘Take him in Finch, book him, and then throw him in the box.’
     
    Fifteen minutes later and Stone was sitting alone in a dark and miserable interview room. He was handcuffed to the bracket on top of a scratched and cold metal table that was bolted securely to the floor. On the right side of the table was a black box recorder with a time clock and a red light showing on the face. His chair was also bolted down, as were the two identical chairs opposite his. The windowless room felt dank and the walls were faced with a sort of wood grain veneer that was peeling away at the corners and in some parts was missing altogether. The surfaces were riddled with graffiti messages written by the innocent and wrongly accused like Stone. The guilty ones didn’t seem so keen to write on the wall. Above Stone’s head was a single fluorescent light about four feet long which flickered every once in a while and each time it did he could see his reflection for a split second in the wall to wall mirrored window opposite him. Behind the mirror he was sure there were people, maybe even the smirk, watching his every move and expression. Stone steepled his hands and closed his eyes, he zoned out trying to calm his breathing and shut out his anger and frustration.
    The silence was shattered when the door burst open and Ramirez walked in followed by Finch, and behind him, who almost needed to walk sideways through the door, was a uniformed officer who stood guard. The officer folded his arms. He had quite a friendly lived in face atop broad shoulders and a barrel chest. Gun or no gun, it was hard to imagine anyone getting in or out of the room unless he wanted them to.
    Ramirez sat down opposite Stone, and Finch slipped quietly into the seat next to him carrying a file, which he placed on the table. Ramirez reached across and hit a button on the recording machine with his right hand and spoke into it before he turned to face Stone.
    ‘For the record we are in interview room one, it is 2.45pm on 18th December. I am Senior Detective Eduardo Ramirez. With me is my partner Detective Michael Finch. The interviewee is one…’ Ramirez picked up the case file and read the full name across the top. ‘Bradley John Stone. In attendance also is Officer James O’Reilly who will be present at all times. For the record it should also be stated that Mr. Stone has waived his right to have representation.’
    Ramirez obviously reveled in his job, probably watched all of Robert De Niro’s movies and had the smirk down pat to prove it. Finch on the