[ WP ] As the new detective on call , it 's your job to interrogate the newest suspect . He 's a demon worshipper who sacrificed his wife to Satan .

I tried. Hope you enjoy. 
 
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 -Hey Murdock, there's one here for you. 
 
 
 That was my boss delivering on the promise he made to me. After my promotion, first suspect to show up would be mine to interrogate. I was ecstatic. I was naive. 
 
 
 -Follow me - said my boss, his triple chin jiggling - Complete nuts this one. Name of Sebastian Goodman. We found his wife dead on the basement after an anonymous call complaining about the smell. 
 
 
 -Well, that's not that uncommon, sir - I said as we walked 
 
 
 -Yeah, you're right, that's unfortunately very common but the rest is n't. The walls were painted red with her blood. All her blood. 
 
 
 -What do you mean all her blood? How? 
 
 
 -Vacuum cleaner. Just sucked everything right up. Wrote some weird shit on the floor with the blood too. 
 
 
 We stop at the door of the interrogation room. 
 
 
 -Anything else I need to know, sir? 
 
 
 -Basement full of candles, book fill of creepy drawings on a table, her body was in the middle of a spiral. Sacrifice, it seems. But we got ta question the bastard - he grins - And you're just the man for it. 
 
 
 -Wo n't disappoint you, sir. 
 
 
 -I know you wo n't. Now, I'll be on the other side of the glass and the guy is cuffed so no need to be nervous. He's crazy but he is n't Superman and, even better, he did n't want a lawyer. So get in there and grab a confession. 
 
 
 With that, I'm left alone by the door. I calm my nerves and get in. 
 Inside, sits the `` suspect'', hands still dirty with crusted blood, but who, somehow, is wearing a completely clean black suit. It did n't fit him very well but the result was n't any less unsettling. His eyes bored into me as soon as I got in but I manage to keep eye contact even through my uneasiness. 
 
 
 I take my time to sit on the other chair, positioning my self in front of him. 
 
 
 -How are the girls, Detective Murdock? - he blurts out. 
 
 
 I pale. How did he know my name? What does he know about my daughters? 
 
 
 -Fine, I shall not talk about your personal life while you have a job to do. Please, do question me. 
 
 
 Pulling myself together, I take a slow breath and feel the anger rising. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Hannibal Lecter? No no, he is n't going to play with my head. 
 
 
 -Mr. Goodman, did you murder your wife on the night of November 16th? 
 
 
 -No, he did n't. 
 
 
 -What do you mean by he? Did you murder your wife or not? 
 
 
 -He killed her on the 15th. And it was around dusk so who can say if it was really night? 
 
 
 Okay, the guy is definitely nuts, but I almost had the confession. 
 
 
 I press on - So you confess to the murder of Laura Goodman? 
 
 
 -Yes. Mr Goodman did kill his wife. Strangled her. Cut her open like a pig, pulled her organs out and sucked the blood into the vacuum to use as paint. - he chuckles - Some people like going the extra mile when redecorating. 
 
 
 I get up. He's so cold, composed. He's enjoying himself and I'm most definitely not. But I'm curious, that's why I wanted to be a detective. Always too damn good with the questions. 
 
 
 -Why did you do it? - I ask against my better judgment 
 
 
 -He did it for power, of course. You promise people a way to step on others and, more often than not, they'll want it. They'll do anything for it. And so he did. 
 
 
 -What kind of power could you get from killing your wife? That does n't make sense. 
 
 
 But in the back of my head, I know it does. I do n't want to believe it but it does. 
 
 
 -Please, help me! - he screams, his voice suddenly different and desperate - I did n't want to do it, I tried to stop but it was too late! Kill me and burn it! You have to! 
 
 
 -Sir, calm down. Burn what? I do n't understand 
 
 
 -The book, burn the - he becomes silent and his face changes back to its composed self - That wo n't happen again. But I must leave now, detective, as I'm sure you must do too. Maggie and Sabrina miss you. 
 
 
 He gets up, snapping his cuffs almost as if in an afterthought. 
 
 
 -You stay where you are, do n't move an inch- I warn him, gun raised and aimed at his chest 
 
 
 -Please, detective, let's be civil. There's no need for threats. 
 
 
 He steps towards the door and, just as I'm about to shoot him, my boss bursts in with another two officers. 
 
 -You stay right there, you freak, or I'll blow your fucking brains out. Steve, cuff the fucker. 
 
 
 That's when it happens. A moment that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Goodman just looked at me and my life went down the drain. 
 
 
 -Mr. Murdock, would you please take care of these men? 
 
 
 My muscles tensed and I moved without wanting to. Then I blew the brains out of my three colleagues. 
 
 
 -Very well done, detective. Now I must depart. - And he starts walking casually towards the door. 
 
 
 My legs give way and I crumble to the floor, gun forgotten beside me. 
 
 
 -Who are you? - I whisper 
 
 
 He turns back to look at me. 
 
 
 -Mr. Goodman was a stupid selfish little man but the unwary pawns are often the best ones. The world wo n't miss him. Enjoy your life, detective, and do give a hug on the girls for me. 
 
 
 
 The girls live with her mother now, they do n't hug me anymore. Every cop in the country hates my guts and I ca n't even blame them. I'm in an asylum. No one believes my story, of course. But I know what's out there and I'm gon na put it down.
