ÃÂWhere were you Last Night?ÃÂÃÂWHERE WERE YOU LAST NIGHT?ÃÂ the light glared into my eyes and the detective snarled as he slammed both of his clammy, fat palms down on the primitive, tarnished desk forcing all of his body mass to come just two inches from my own. It may have just been me, but I am almost certain that his spit snuck between his whiskers and found its way to my face.
I wrinkled my forehead and shook my head one way more so than the other.
ÃÂWhat do you mean where was I last night?ÃÂ It probably was not the most intelligent idea to get smart with a detective. That basically makes him a cop, right? The whole ÃÂgood cop, bad copÃÂ scenario was not working out with me. Plus, lets not kid ourselves, you could say I donÃÂt exactly have the cleanest record, the most pleasant experiences with police stations, or history with cops.
For what it does matter though, I honestly had no idea where the detective was getting at. Am I a suspect? Am I being accused of something?ÃÂI had a Thursday night school from 3:30 to 6:45 last night, you can even check the schoolÃÂs attendance sheet.ÃÂÃÂAnd where did you go after that? Did you go out or visit any friends afterwards?ÃÂÃÂNO!ÃÂ I yelled in utter disgust. I really am being accused. ÃÂWhat the hell is this, some type of sick joke? Father wasnÃÂt too fond in the first place when he found out that I had yet another night school, I had no choice but to go home. Look, I know about Kayla and her disappearance, but I assure you, I donÃÂt have the answers. Can I go now?ÃÂÃÂSo you are KaylaÃÂs best friend right?ÃÂ the detective asked with a softer,