Despite being a minor and a suspected murder, Mr. Barclay asks a lot of questions. Alex finds himself almost liking the kid despite himself, despite the rap sheet and the stories about creepy killer dolls. (He’ll give him the creepy bit, to be fair). “That would be a waste of my time.”
He’d say it “wouldn’t be by the book” except things have changed in Detroit and the definition of legal feels like it shifts by the month. More surveillance, a wider, more vague definition of what counts as probable cause and warrants are already easier to get than he remembers only a few years ago. Alex’s head turns to the side, then down – the movement is segmented like everything else he does, divided up into smooth but still robotic motions. The gesture brings Andy further into his field of vision. The kid is leaning against the wall and it’s not entirely casual, either: it’s the body language of someone used to something ugly coming when the doors open, the body language of someone who doesn’t want to get attacked from behind.
Alex has seen that one too many times.
His eyebrows knit together before he looks forward. He can’t believe he’s doing this. There’s following hunches and there’s this. Following up leads from a suspect about evil dolls with serial killing as a hobby.
The elevator doors slide open as they reach the tenth floor. News travels fast: some of the doors are already open, hotel guests poking their heads out as Alex troops in. He pitches his voice so it’s louder, booming so even those still inside their rooms should get the message.
“Please remain in your rooms for individual interrogation. Cooperation is advised. Have a nice afternoon.”
That does the trick. Alex’s voice drops down to normal speaking levels, sounding a little bit more human now compared to his announcement as he turns back to Andy. The kid’s well within his allocated 50 yards. It’s like, Jesus. He thought he’d be at least testing the limits but Mr. Barclay is practically glued to his side now, as if he’s expecting that doll to come bursting through the walls or something any second.
“I’ll ask the questions. Don’t…” Alex actually sighs. “Don’t mention killer dolls, understand? Let me handle this.”
He stares at Andy until he’s satisfied with his biometrics that he’s got it before turning and opening that first door. Alex has to duck slightly to get through the door frame.
that would be fantastic!
He’d say it “wouldn’t be by the book” except things have changed in Detroit and the definition of legal feels like it shifts by the month. More surveillance, a wider, more vague definition of what counts as probable cause and warrants are already easier to get than he remembers only a few years ago. Alex’s head turns to the side, then down – the movement is segmented like everything else he does, divided up into smooth but still robotic motions. The gesture brings Andy further into his field of vision. The kid is leaning against the wall and it’s not entirely casual, either: it’s the body language of someone used to something ugly coming when the doors open, the body language of someone who doesn’t want to get attacked from behind.
Alex has seen that one too many times.
His eyebrows knit together before he looks forward. He can’t believe he’s doing this. There’s following hunches and there’s this. Following up leads from a suspect about evil dolls with serial killing as a hobby.
The elevator doors slide open as they reach the tenth floor. News travels fast: some of the doors are already open, hotel guests poking their heads out as Alex troops in. He pitches his voice so it’s louder, booming so even those still inside their rooms should get the message.
“Please remain in your rooms for individual interrogation. Cooperation is advised. Have a nice afternoon.”
That does the trick. Alex’s voice drops down to normal speaking levels, sounding a little bit more human now compared to his announcement as he turns back to Andy. The kid’s well within his allocated 50 yards. It’s like, Jesus. He thought he’d be at least testing the limits but Mr. Barclay is practically glued to his side now, as if he’s expecting that doll to come bursting through the walls or something any second.
“I’ll ask the questions. Don’t…” Alex actually sighs. “Don’t mention killer dolls, understand? Let me handle this.”
He stares at Andy until he’s satisfied with his biometrics that he’s got it before turning and opening that first door. Alex has to duck slightly to get through the door frame.