Cal sat in a dry, dim room, the only light emanating from a single desk lamp aimed towards him. The concrete walls surrounded a table, two chairs, the lamp, and a blackened window to his left. His skin was dry, and his seat was hard, and his lower back ached. He had been there for a while, yet a while was an indeterminate concept in the box. The light bore down on his squinted eyes, but tilting the desk lamp elsewhere was an act of rebellion he couldn\u2019t muster. The blackened window to his left would object.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>Two shadows entered the room. The light aimed at Cal kept him from ascertaining any details. He glanced towards them as one took a seat across the table, revealing a human face. The other remained hovering in the corner.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cHi there, Calvin, sorry to keep you waiting,\u201d said the seated man.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s no problem. You can call me Cal.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cCal it is. You feel all right? Temperature fine?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cI’m a little warm, but it\u2019s OK.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYou know why we have you in here, right?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYeah, it\u2019s all a big mistake, though.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The seated man chuckled. \u201cSo we\u2019re wasting our time with you?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYou sure are. And, well,\u201d Cal took a deep breath, \u201cshouldn\u2019t I have a lawyer here or something?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The man across the table smiled. \u201cLook, Cal, it\u2019s like we told you before, that\u2019s your right. We can get the lawyers in here if you choose, but that\u2019s when this turns serious. Right now, we\u2019re only talkin\u2019. We just want to figure this thing out. So if you had nothin\u2019 to do with it, the best thing for everyone is for you to sit here and be honest with us and answer our questions. How does that sound?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cOK. That sounds fine.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cSo we\u2019re good to continue?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cGreat. Where were you Tuesday at 4:45 PM?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cI was\u2014I was still at work, about to end my shift. I work construction down at 14th and Hamilton. My supervisor, Mr. Spitz, will tell you,\u201d Cal said, the heat from the light warming his skin.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The shadow in the corner scoffed.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The seated man opened the binder in front of him and glanced over a sheet of paper. \u201cYes, Mr. Spitz. We had a little chat with him. He said your team was on-site \u2019til then, but that he didn\u2019t see you in particular. Ain\u2019t that the damnedest thing?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cThe damnedest thing,\u201d repeated the shadow in the corner.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Cal\u2019s insides were heavy, and a cursory glance around the box suggested it was smaller than when he\u2019d first entered.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYou snuck off a half-hour earlier, Cal. You headed west on 14th down to Sycamore.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2014no, that\u2019s not right. That can\u2019t be right.\u201d Cal slid his seat back a few inches. It did little to escape the light. It was brighter and warmer by the second, each word from the man increasing its voltage.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The seated man pulled a photo out of the binder and slid it towards Cal. He peered down, away from the light, his pupils expanding slightly. It was a woman in her sixties. Graying hair hung down to her shoulders, and her blue blouse matched her eyes \u2013 weary eyes that had absorbed images they were better off blind to. She stared at Cal, daring him to confess. What do you think I\u2019ve done? Cal thought, matching the picture\u2019s stare.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cCal, this is Mrs. Windsor. Doesn\u2019t she look like a nice lady?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cWould you trust Mrs. Windsor?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Cal paused. \u201cTrust her with what?\u201d At that, the heat from the light singed his eyebrows.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The shadow in the corner crept towards him, accompanied by a cloud of smoke and a glowing, orange dot. It stopped right behind him, hovering over his chair. \u201cScoot your seat forward, son,\u201d said the shadow, its thick voice lava in Cal\u2019s ears. He pulled the chair forward, his face burning.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cNow, would you trust her?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cWell, Cal,\u201d said the seated man, \u201cI\u2019m sorry to tell you that Mrs. Windsor saw you on your little afternoon frolic down on Sycamore, a few blocks from your work site. Jog any memories?\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Beads of sweat meandered down Cal\u2019s face from his brow to his chin \u2013 gathering flakes of skin and dirt before falling in plump drops and forming a salty puddle in his lap.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>A moment later, another shadow came in and handed the seated man a piece of paper. He studied it and announced, \u201cwe\u2019ll be back in a moment.\u201d The shadow hovering above Cal disappeared and took all the heat and light and smoke in the room with it.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The door slammed, and the room was dark and cold. Cal\u2019s sweat froze into beads of ice clinging to his face. His insides grew buoyant. He tried to move his fingers, but they were numb.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The Sycamore Road street sign arose, uninvited, from his subconscious into his mind. What did I do on Tuesday? If only I could tell them exactly what I did on Tuesday! But Tuesday was a door Cal\u2019s memory refused to open. Instead, his mind could not escape the Sycamore Road street sign. It could not escape Mrs. Windsor, staring back at him through the darkness. All he could remember from that day was the heat.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>A while later, the two shadows reentered. The same man sat down at the table and switched the light back on. Cal\u2019s skin simmered. The shadow hovered above him once again. Ash drifted from the glowing orange dot onto his shoulders. The hot smoke toasted his nape.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cCal, at approximately 4:45 PM you entered through the backdoor of the two-story Craftsman at 1426 Sycamore Road.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cSycamore\u2026no\u2026\u201d Cal\u2019s impotent neck struggled to hold his head steady. He rested his forearm on the table for a moment and shrieked as it scalded him. He could hear the skin on the underside of his arm sizzle.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cWe know you were there,\u201d the shadow whispered.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cThen, you went upstairs,\u201d said the man at the table. \u201cDescribe the upstairs, Cal.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cIt was\u2014it was hot. It was on fire.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cSee!\u201d encouraged the man. \u201cNow we\u2019re getting somewhere. Keep going.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Cal looked down at his hands. They were crusted and covered in scabs and burns. \u201cIt was on fire\u2026\u201d he repeated under his breath.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cYou started the fire,\u201d whispered the shadow.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cI saw you. Admit it,\u201d said Mrs. Windsor from a darkened corner.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The rest of the room turned pitch black. The lamp\u2019s glow sucked all heat and light from the box and submerged Cal in its rays.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>\u201cDid you start it?\u201d said the voice of the man across the table from the darkness.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Cal\u2019s skin crackled. A dry breeze blustered from above, igniting the flames and setting him ablaze. \u201cYES! YES! WATER!\u201d he moaned as flames engulfed him and he crumbled to the floor.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>The man across the table slid a piece of paper onto the floor towards Cal\u2019s scorched flesh. \u201cSign this, and we\u2019ll put you out.\u201d<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>After a few moments, Cal felt a cold wave splash over him, extinguishing the fire.<\/p>\n +++++<\/span>Months later, Cal, seated before a room of his peers, watched the video of himself in the room with the man and the shadow. He still could not remember what he did on that Tuesday. He only remembered the heat.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cal sat in a dry, dim room, the only light emanating from a single desk lamp aimed towards him. The concrete walls surrounded a table, two chairs, the lamp, and a blackened window to his left. His skin was dry, and his seat was hard, and his lower back ached. He had been there for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":267,"featured_media":5221,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Nils Gilbertson puts a dark lens on how people get information in his story, 'An Interrogation.'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1466,1166,1452],"tags":[1165,79,816,820,1164,779,1000,1046,71],"class_list":["post-5219","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-n","category-nils-gilbertson","category-short-story","tag-an-interrogation","tag-crime","tag-crime-fiction","tag-crime-noir","tag-nils-gilbertson","tag-noir","tag-short-crime","tag-short-fiction","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1Zyqm-1mb","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/08\/Interrogation.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5219","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/267"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5219"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5219\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5221"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5219"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5219"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5219"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}