Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(44)

“Lucky us.” Stella reached for the doorknob.

Spivak had been sitting in the cramped, windowless space for thirty minutes, stewing. His cuffed hands were fastened to the back of the metal chair. His hoodie had been taken with his personal effects, and sweat had soaked through the armpits of his T-shirt.

With an exaggerated sniff, Lance pulled out a metal chair and sat. “The smell of fear in the air.”

Belligerence—and intelligence—shone from Spivak’s eyes.

“If I take the cuffs off, you’re going to behave, right?” Stella wanted his cooperation. Most criminals were smart enough to restrain themselves while being videotaped by a ceiling-mounted camera.

The look Spivak shot Lance could have burned brick. Spivak nodded, and Stella circled behind him to release his hands. He rubbed his wrists, and Stella spotted scars in the crook of his elbow. Track marks?

She sat in the chair across from him, read him his Miranda rights, and slid an acknowledgment across the table for him to sign.

“I know my rights.” Ego lifted his jaw, but a line of sweat trickled down his temple. “I’m not signing anything.”

They’d intentionally shut off the air-conditioning vent in the room. Discomfort could loosen a tongue.

Stella pushed the paper aside. She raised her voice and spoke to the camera. “Let the record show that Mr. Spivak was read his rights and stated verbally that he understands them.”

Spivak’s mouth flattened as he realized his mistake. His eyes flickered to the camera.

Stella slid the file in front of her and opened it. “You have quite the record. You’ve been charged with assault, domestic violence, and statutory rape.”

“I was never convicted of anything except the rape, and I was railroaded on that.”

“You like little girls, Noah?” Lance cocked his head.

“She told me she was eighteen.” His face went smug.

Stella checked the file. “She was thirteen.”

“She looked mature for her age.” Spivak clasped his hands. “Must be the hormones in our food.”

“Where do you live, Mr. Spivak?” Stella asked.

With one blink, his eyes went dark. “With my parents.”

Stella leaned forward, interlocking her fingers and resting her forearms on the table. “Why were you outside the church tonight?”

“Contemplating God’s grand plan.” His eyes shrank to mean slits. “Why did he put us in the same place tonight, Detective?”

Stella ignored the question. “Who were you waiting for?”

“I was waiting for you.” Excitement drew him forward and glittered in his eyes. “Women aren’t meant to be in positions of power. Fate put us together tonight. I’m supposed to teach you to be a properly submissive female. I’d handcuff you, bend you over this table, and give you a lesson in a woman’s true purpose.”

“You little—” Lance said, his teeth bared.

Stella put a cool-it hand on his forearm to ward off the pending explosion. She glanced sideways at him. One more sign of aggression and she was kicking him out. He eased back a scant inch, but the muscles under her palm were rigid as stone.

Spivak’s eyes laughed at them. He was enjoying Lance’s reaction.

“If we drug tested you right now, would you be clean?” Stella gave his arms a pointed look.

“Yes.” He bent his arms to conceal the scars. “Those are from prison. I’ve been clean since I got out.”

“Isn’t that backward?” Lance asked.

“You try serving time,” Spivak shot back. “Many things happen in prison that aren’t optional.”

“You were forced to use heroin?” Lance asked in a skeptical tone.

“I was forced to do a lot of things,” Spivak said without breaking eye contact.

Hostility rose between the two men like heat waves off hot blacktop.

Time to change tactics.

Stella set a picture of Missy Green on the table. “Do you know this woman?”

Spivak glanced at it. Recognition lit his eyes, then pure spite twisted his mouth. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Fucking liar.” Lance slammed a fist onto the table.

“He’s out of control. I’m not answering any questions without a lawyer.” This wasn’t Spivak’s first trip to the police interview room. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his nasty gaze landing on Stella’s chest. “Unless she strips down and gives me a look at her tits.”

And that was the end of the interview. Stella got up and opened the door for the uniform standing outside the door. “Put Mr. Spivak in holding.”

“I won’t be in here long, not once my lawyer gets a look at this.” Spivak pointed to his abraded cheek and split lip. “And when I get out, I’ll be keeping an eye out for you around town.” He pointed at Stella and licked his lips. “I want to bite into you like a ripe peach.”

He was looking for a response, so Stella didn’t give it to him. She gathered her papers into her folder. But inside, her stomach protested the images his words put in her head. Plenty of criminals tried to intimidate her with sexual insults and comments. It was one thing about being a female cop that she couldn’t get used to no matter how hard she tried. But this was somehow worse. Spivak wasn’t some idiot loser spewing empty threats. This man was cunning, cruel.