Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(11)
There was nothing she could do about that now, or even in the foreseeable future. Best to focus on the here and now and close the case so Kellie would go away. The less time spent together, the better.
She confirmed for the record that Michael Lambert had denied having a solicitor present and marvelled at his obvious cockiness. He didn’t seem the least bit afraid he was under the suspicion of double homicide. This made her wonder why. He wasn’t a hardened criminal and should’ve been at least sweating from nerves. His lack of concern was intriguing. He wouldn’t be as easy to crack as she’d first thought.
Michael’s face was swollen in several places and after the first aid officer had a cursory glance, he’d been placed in the interview room. That had been hours ago. She would’ve interviewed him earlier but she and Darryl had been subjected to legal prattle about her altercation before being called to immediately report to the boss’s office.
Darryl sat beside her and allowed her to take the lead. He would remain quiet unless he thought he could be of assistance. Until then, he stared with cold brown eyes at Michael in a bid to unnerve him. It worked on most criminals and they played off one another depending on the personality of the suspect they were interviewing.
She glanced down at the file she held in her hands. After apprehending the son-of-a-bitch, she and Darryl had fingerprinted the little prick and ran them through NAFIS—the National Automated Fingerprint Identification System. They had discovered that young Michael Lambert was a career felon, starting small at age nine, stealing chocolate bars from convenience stores. He had since moved on to bigger and better things such as double homicide at the tender age of nineteen.
“Mr. Lambert, can you account for your whereabouts last evening, between eleven and one a.m.?”
He stared mutinously at her.
“I don’t believe you’re grasping the gravity of your situation,Michael. Your car and therefore you have been placed at a double homicide. So do yourself a favour and answer the question.”
He smirked but remained stoically silent, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to show his defiance. The move was ruined when he winced from the injuries she had given him.
“You think you’re going to walk away from this? Two men are dead and someone has to pay for it. If it wasn’t you, now is the time to speak up and tell us a name. Otherwise, your bruises will be the least of your troubles.”
He narrowed his eyes at the reminder that he’d been bested by a woman. He may have thought of himself as a gangster wannabe, but they both knew the truth. He was a poser and he’d gotten lucky last night.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
Amelia nodded. “Ah, he speaks.”
“You got nothing on me, and you know it. Nothing more than my car allegedly at the crime scene. I say it wasn’t. Your witness can argue it until he’s blue in the face, but it don’t change nothing.”
He smiled at her as if he had her beat. The glint of fear in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t as emotionless as he wanted to be and in way over his head. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. She would’ve been more sympathetic if he hadn’t have come at her with a knife. His behaviour told her more than his words. There was someone else out there pulling his strings. Lambert felt safe, as if untouchable under the man’s protection. She knew only a few men exerted that amount of power.
He might skirt the assault charges, a fact that grated but she would get him on murder. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he would not go unpunished. She hated the fact that he’d been right about the evidence against him. She would find it hard to push for a conviction.
The only thing that could save him now would be to offer up the man behind the scenes. The coward who made teenagers do his dirty work.
“Doesn’t change anything,” she corrected him, and his eye twitched in anger.
“Fuck you.”
“You really shouldn’t have given up school, Michael. You might’ve had a more extensive vocabulary if you’d have stayed.”
Lambert rose to his feet in one swift move and lunged at her. She deftly grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back hard enough that she heard the tendons strain and slammed him face first into the table. Blood spurted from his nose and he started mewling.
“Detective Donovan,” Kellie said sharply. Amelia glanced up and saw her furious expression. “A moment outside. Now.” She turned and opened the door to the interview room, waiting until she and Darryl had stepped through before closing it behind her with a distinct click.
“What now, Kellie?” she asked, suddenly exhausted. The little prick had been getting on her nerves.
“He was deliberately pushing you and you played right into his hands. He’ll walk because of your actions in that room. He may be a punk but he has rights and you’re violating each and every one of them.”
Amelia blinked at the red haze clouding her vision, hating how she was right. “You’re protecting him? He’s a murderer.”
She couldn’t believe it. It was bad enough to be told his assault on her wouldn’t be charged, a lack of witnesses and the fact her injuries were inconsequential in light of his. But now a woman she’d considered a sister was against her. Was it any wonder she was pissed?
“Alleged. But it’s not him I’m protecting…it’s you. If he had any brains at all, he would press charges against you. Police brutality while in custody. Your career would be over in a second. No wonder you have IA breathing down your neck, if that’s the kind of shit you pull on a weekly basis.”