Box of Crayons

Chapter 5 - Black

He looks down at his lap crying. He places the box of crayons on top of the desk. The yellow crayon is broken in half. He tries to hide it with his hand, but it's obvious from the way he tries to slide it back in. I let him sit in silence until he gets the crayon in the box. It seems to calm him.

I say, "I'm sorry Andy. It's frustrating for me to not know how these women died. I am going to make a statement for you to sign, and the statement needs to be as detailed as possible."

He sniffles. "I'm trying. I black out and don't know what is going on sometimes. I know that I killed these girls, and I don't want to hurt anyone else."

I respond, "I promise you that I won't let you hurt anyone else." This seems to calm him a bit more.
 "Do you want to continue?"

He nods. "Yea. I have to. I don't know how much time I have."

I ask, "What do you mean? Are you dying? I can call an ambulance."

He shakes his head. "No no..  Let's just keep going. I'll be OK."

I ask, "OK. Who's next?"

Andy says, "Desiree Azuma. I met her at the park. I was reading a book. I can't remember which one. I read a lot. She was jogging around the walking path. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, so I didn't pay her much attention at first. I got lost in my book for a while.

When I looked up, I noticed her hair. She was stretching her legs out near the bench I was sitting. Her hair bounced around as if asking me if I wanted to play. I did. The light danced over it as well. I had never seen hair like it. I felt the compulsion to touch it. I wanted it to bounce around in my hands. I followed her home and waited."

He starts messing with his crayons again.

He continues, "She came out again wearing a short black dress, but more importantly her hair was down. It was free to dance around her head. It's full glory is difficult to put in words. I followed her to a bar where she met friends. My hands began to twitch as I watched her. I almost spilled my coke when I picked it up. Her and her friends went to the dancefloor. I couldn't wait any longer. I followed them and drew my scissors. She didn't even hear the cutting when it began. Her hair was thicker and heavier than I thought it would be. One of her friends started pointing at her. I took that as my cue to leave. I looked back when she started screaming, and that was the last time I saw them."

Another name matches the summary file. This time a full name. I am getting angry at this "last time I saw them" crap. He hasn't admitted to any details of the crime. I need him to. "That was NOT the last time you saw her!" I pull a crime scene photo out of the summary file. "That is how you left her!"

He looks away with his face contorting in grief. "I don't remember that."

I yell, "You killed her didn't you? How? You remember! You just don't want to tell me!"

Tears streaming down his face again, he says, "I-I don't! I try to, but I-I don't!" His expression changes to one of fear. "He's coming!"

I respond, "Who is coming? What are you talking about?"

He looks at me. "He's coming! I don't have much time." He puts the box of crayons on the desk, and slides the black crayon back into the box. "Take this!  It's evidence. Quickly!"

I grab an evidence bag, and place the open mouth of it over the box of crayons. "What is this evidence of? Assault on a coloring book?" I take care with flipping the box, so I can seal the evidence bag.

He stands up, looks around, and says, "He's almost here. Hide the box! Quick!" I stuff the sealed bag in my jacket pocket. "I killed those women. Put me in handcuffs now!" He puts both of his hands out shaking them to emphasize urgency. "I don't want this to be the last time I see you. Cuff!" His face changes from desperation to anger as I put the handcuffs on. He stares at his wrists for a minute in silence.

I ask, "Are you OK? You ready to continue?"

He pushes his shoulders back and sits with a businesslike nature. "I want my lawyer."

My eyebrows climb up my forehead. "You came here to confess."

He places his hands on the table and leans forward. "I want my lawyer and my phone call if you are arresting me. That is all you are going to get me to confess to."

I pull out the card, and read him his Miranda Rights. I finish with, "Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

He replies, "Yes. I want my lawyer and my phone call."

I have no idea what the hell just happened, but rules are rules. I hope Detective Brooks is here to take over this mess.