The man stops the recorder.
I tilt my head back, feeling uneasy about where this conversation is headed. I want to be honest with him, but the truth that’s about to come up doesn’t paint me in a good light.
Nothing else I say tonight will paint me in a good light.
“Do you have a restroom I can use?” he asks.
I point down the hallway. “Third door on your right.”
He gets up and leaves the room. I would go check on Layla, but it’s finally quiet upstairs. Hopefully it stays that way for a while. I open my laptop to see if Willow is in the room with us.
“Are you here?” I ask her.
I scoot the laptop over to an empty seat next to me, and she immediately types a response.
Yes.
“What do you think?”
I haven’t been down here for all of the conversation because I wanted Layla to fall asleep, so I don’t know what all you’ve told him, or what he’s suggested.
“I’ve told him almost everything, but all he’s done is listen so far.”
Almost everything? What have you left out?
I roll my head and then lower it to my arms. “I haven’t told him everything that happened the night Layla and I were shot.”
Leeds . . .
“I know. I’ll get to that. I just . . .”
The man walks back in the room, so I clamp my mouth shut and don’t finish my sentence. He eyes me carefully as he takes his seat at the table.
“Were you just speaking to Willow?”
“How?”
“Through my laptop. I talk to her out loud, and she responds using the computer.”
The man stares at me in thought. “Fascinating,” he says.
I turn the laptop toward him. “Do you want to watch her do it?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t need to see it. I believe you.” He leans forward and hits record. “So what happened the next morning?”
