Played: “Sometimes you never know who is playing who, until the damage is done." by Bad-Boy Storyteller Page B

lying in wait.
    He almost answers her before deciding not to. Then he mumbles, “Nowhere,” while searching the floor for a pair of dress socks.
    She sits up and grabs her eyeglasses—the naughty-librarian kind that she wears so well—from the lampstand to gain a better idea of what is going on. “Where are you going? It’s our day off.”
    Cools has been in this situation before and knows his best play is to say very little, get out as quickly as possible, and then explain everything to her later. It isn’t because he doesn’t value her or care for her; he’s actually very much in love with her. Still he knows that as soon as he starts answering, it’ll only lead to more questions, ultimately escalating to a senseless argument, and that would only slow him down. So evading all eye contact, he continues dressing, throwing a few vague utterances her way. “It’s a police emergency…I can’t talk now. I have to go. Okay, baby?”
    Chelsea, an attractive woman even in the early hours, is a thirty-two-year-old bank manager with a good head on her shoulders. Her only fault is that she has a weakness for the jackass now leaving her alone in his cluttered apartment. And knowing the game all too well herself, she does nothing more than curses a short, “Goddammit,” and pull the covers back over her head. It isn’t long before she hears car keys being lifted from a kitchen table and the door slamming shut.
    A short time later, Cools enters the station, finding Amberly with Officer Renny and straightaway noticing her look. Her eyes are puffy like she has been crying, and she doesn’t look well; he automatically suspects she’s a party girl. Officer Renny introduces them. “Detective Cools, this is the young lady I was telling you about.”
    “Amberly is it?” Cools asks, using a warm, kindhearted tone. Experience has taught him that a caring first impression is the best way to cozy up and earn their trust prior to a progressively tough interrogation.
    “Yes, that’s my name. And I asked to speak with you, and you only,” she replies, with a mixed expression of guilt and apology.
    “I understand you believe Kimberly Siconolfi is missing?”
    “Yes. She is. And I think her husband has done something to her.”
    “And you’re a coworker and friend of Kimberly, is that correct?”
    “Yes, uh-huh.”
    Cools feels confident he is going to tear her apart. Soon he will be shredding through her bullshit, gaining all that she knows. “Okay, Amberly, give me a second, and we’ll be right back. Do you need anything…anything at all…a drink…or cigarette maybe?”
    “Well, I could use a cigarette,” she replies with a gentle smile, instantly feeling a little more at ease. She likes the way he looks at her, the way most men do, the way that comforts her.
    “Sounds good to me too,” he says. He then moves in closer, whispering, “We have a private office in here that no one is supposed to know about that we can smoke in.” He finishes his statement with a wink, reeling her in. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay, Amberly?”
    “Yeah, all right then.”
    Cools leads Officer Renny out into the hallway. “What do we got here?”
    “Well, not a lot. She claims she works with Kimberly at the Kitty Club, and according to her, they’re good friends. They have a routine they do together.”
    Cools pauses a second, adult-visioning, as Renny goes on, “And her story is basically that she hasn’t shown for work in days or answered any of Ms. Carlson’s many attempts to contact her via cell, Facebook, text—nothing. So she doesn’t worry about it too much until a friend tells her last night about the incident last week—Joshua’s radio show. And for some reason, she’s very firm about not knowing about that till last night. My first impression is that she’s an addict.”
    “Yeah, I got that too. Is that all?”
    “No, there’s something else. She says she didn’t know what she was doing at the time, but