BURDEN OF AN ANCIENT OATH by Joshua Brown (best fiction novels to read txt) 📗

a key to Jack’s place, locked away in my safe. It was a small gesture he made back when we were far younger and far stupider than we were now.

“Sounds good,” I said, feeling tears well up in my eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“Stay safe tonight, Gwen. I don’t want anything happening to you,” Jack replied.

“You too, okay?” I fought back the tears for as long as I could.

Once the call ended, I wept freely. And once I managed to compose myself, I collected the key from my safe and went over to Jack’s place, finding a good spot on the sofa, flicking through old movies.

Chapter 18

Jack

I was already at the police station when Gwen called to tell me that her home was broken into. I stood in a small room, behind a one-way window, where not a few feet before me, Oscar Carlisle sat. He fidgeted nervously, having been trapped in the bright, blinding interrogation room for nearly 20 hours now.

I hoped stripping him of all luxuries for a while would send him into a panic. That the idea of being thrown in jail would get him to start speaking and let me know what’s going on with this case. But now? There were higher stakes on the line. These people managed to break into Gwen’s house. I knew she had top-notch security after my own prodding to make sure she was safe years before.

And this organization, the Order of the Phoenix, managed to get in there without any issue at all.

They had to be damn good criminals, with a history in the more dubious acts, to pull something like that off.

“So, what’s it gonna be, boss? You know we can’t keep him there for more than 48 hours if you don’t get something out of him soon,” the police officer, Marshall Denton, said. He was my second in the interrogation, had I needed to bring another in for the good cop/bad cop routine.

He was a good man, having partaken in many an investigation with me in the past. I met him as a rookie on the force, trying to climb his way up the ladder, and now, he managed to hold the title of sergeant. He was built like a brick, with broad shoulders and a stocky frame. His skin was tanned both by heritage and taking care of himself. His buzzcut black hair was perfectly fitting for an officer such as him.

“I’ll get something out of him tonight, don’t you worry about that,” I replied.

My thoughts were still on Gwen, however. I knew she was safe for the time being, that the Order only came to her to deliver a message, but I was still uncomfortable. I felt trapped, not only in that small room but mentally too. What kind of toll would something like that take on a person? I knew if I was in the same situation, it wouldn’t have ended so civilly.

But she was safe. I had to remember that. I never was and knew I couldn’t be emotional in a situation like this. If I let anything slip, going by the book, it would be my ass.

“We going to play this one nice and cool, or do you want some muscle right from the get-go?” Marshall asked, shoving the last bite of a pastry into his mouth.

“I think we take it slow. If I need you, I’ll give you the signal,” I replied. Marshall and I created a simple gesture that let the other know if they needed help—a peace sign shown to the perp before spinning one finger in the air.

In this situation, with a man like Oscar Carlisle already terrified and broken down, I knew it wasn’t necessary. He’d squeal the second I started hitting him with hard truths of what might happen had he not given up more secrets. But it had to be done quickly. I didn’t have time to dilly-dally and pretend that we were going to get through this whole ordeal alright. I needed answers, and I needed to bring people down.

Lives depended on it.

I made the short walk out of the office and stepped into the interrogation room.

It wasn’t much bigger than the room me and Marshall sat in, but the blinding white light above our heads was far more uncomfortable than I remembered. There was only a single table in the interrogation room, with two chairs on one end and the culprit's seat on the other. Oscar sat there, hands cuffed to not inflict any self-harm. I was told he was prone to violent strikes to his face, near constantly while saying, how could you be so stupid?

In front of him, a can of soda and an empty McDonald’s box stood.

“Oscar,” I smiled, moving over to a chair opposite him.

“Hello,” he said, trying to lift his hand and wave. The cuffs rattled in a little metal restraint on the table, pulling him forward.

“How are you today?”

“Better than yesterday, sir,” Oscar replied, leaning forward and scratching his face. He had tomato sauce stains on his cheek from the burger he ate.

“That’s good to hear. I understand you’ve had your lawyer come in and your rights read to you?” I inquired.

“Yup, a nice woman came in to tell me everything,” Oscar said, almost blushing at the mention of the woman.

“Great, then we can begin. Look, I’m not going to mince words with you here… you’re in a lot of trouble, Oscar,” I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, trying to express the gravity of the situation. “Did you know that your friends paid the female detective that was with me yesterday a visit tonight?”

“What? No, I don’t know nothing about that,” Oscar shook his head. He started shifting and squirming in his chair in a somewhat frantic frenzy.

“Well, they did. And they made some pretty