“Why did I bury her?”
I sat back in the chair. “Because it's what the Kirbys do. We bury things. We shove them out of sight. I didn't want to look at her, but I did want to torture her. So I grabbed her, dumped dirt over her, but made sure she understood why she was there. Tortured her the same way she had tortured David.”
“But she didn't bury David.” This was from the big cop.
“I don't get how she tortured your brother. You want to explain that for us?”
Big cop with the statements; little cop with the questions. My head hurt and I put my forehead down on the table. “It's complicated.”
I was so quiet I could hear the cops breathing. Finally the baby cop cleared his throat. His signal for me to start talking again.
I turned my face without lifting my head. “I said I wanted to tell this my way. Maybe David went off that limb alone, but it wasn't suicide. It was murder. And someone has to pay for that. And that's not going to happen unless I tell it right. And you're hammering at me with questions and yammering at me to get things in the order you want. Shit, you're just like her.”
I rocked my face to the other side, seeking the cool surface against my skin. “Now, I want something cold to drink, and some aspirin. And get that camera out of my face. I'll talk later if you step off and leave me alone for a while.”
I couldn't make eye contact with the big cop.
“I can't get my mind right. You guys are screwing with my head. Can you leave me alone in here? And turn off the lights?”