Knight sat down in the chair opposite a man in a suit. The man took off his jacket and draped it on the chair, obviously ready to get down to business. Blake was on the opposite side of the one-way mirror, along with someone from the DA’s office and another detective.
“All right. What happened?”
Knight told him. He was attacked, almost knocked out, and suddenly something came out of no where, and he was able to shake off most of the attack and took off. He didn’t see what attacked the man.
Yes, he knew the men. He knew that neither of them liked him. He knew that Tyler was high that day. When asked how, Knight said he used to ride with some gangs and he knew from seeing others. No, he didn’t know from experience. He did not use drugs. He wasn’t drinking.
He was aware that he was a registered hero. He understood that the hospital had him registered as a regenerate. That’s why he could get up and run.
The coroner’s report said that an animal tore out the throat of Mickey – and he plopped down the picture from the crime scene to show it. Knight’s reaction was to gulp and look up at the detective.
“Isn’t your partner a shifter?”
Blake had warned Knight that this question would come up. Mal had not made a secret of his shifting abilities, in Caprice or in public. Knight said, looking the detective in the eye, “He was pro’lly workin’.”
“Probably.”
“He works f’r Flux-Carson. Y’ c’n call them an’ check.”
“We will. Why did you leave?”
“I din’t wanna go t’ the hospital again. I don’ like hospitals.”
“As a hero, wasn’t it your duty to help citizens, even if it is your boyfriend doing the job?”
“Mal wasn’ there,” Knight said firmly.
“But you don’t know who was.”
Knight clammed up. “Call Flux-Carson. I’ll wait.”
“We’ll call them.” More questions came at him, rapid-fire. Did he know when he was going down that alley who would be there? Why did he run? If he ran, how come there were no bloody prints at the scene, but bloody paw prints from his boyfriend leading away? Knight was getting angry at their accusing Mal, hoping against hope that Mal had been working.
With Knight’s help, they established a timeline, and went through it again, minute by minute. He didn’t punch a clock, but they established the time to be 7:18 and worked from there. Over and over Knight said his story, not knowing what time, or how long he was out, not seeing what or who had done the deed.
Finally, there was a knock on the mirror, and the detective looked up. He walked over to the door and shut it, leaving Knight alone.
Knight kept both hands on the table, staying firm, but inside he was shaking. Fine if he could beat the rap, but not if it meant Mal was there. Something else, someone else had to be there, a mysterious benefactor of some sort that happened to be a leopard…
The door opened and the two detectives came in, along with his lawyer. “We’re going to release you, Mr. Carlin,” said the new detective, “But don’t leave town.”
“You or your boyfriend,” said the other detective.
Knight nodded, stress rolling off his shoulders. “We won’.”
Blake put a big hand on Knight’s shoulder. “C’mon.”
They walked out in silence. Blake muttered when they got outside, “Now I might have to represent the both of you.”