Suspect

5 more imagines until 100. I have 6k views, 333 votes, and 95 short stories.

The 100th one has to be big in some way. I don't know what though...

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Y/n set her folder down, and looked menacingly at the suspect. He didn't seem like the murdering type, but if you thought about it: who did?

She took her time examining the folder, reading every crevice of the paper.

Location of murder: Robertson's Diner.

Victim: Peter Richards.

Time: 2:34 AM

Michael Robertson, the owner of the diner, stated: "well, I was just cleaning my dishes when I looked outside. I saw a person yelling at another person. They were both guys, and one of them seemed confused while the other one was angry. I looked back down, minding my own business. as I placed the clean plate into the cabinet I heard a loud gunshot. It sounded like a car backfiring and then when I turned back around the angry man, which I didn't know at the time was Peter, was on the floor, and the confused man was rushing to get back in his car and flee. The lampposts gave me just enough light to see that it was Chris Joseph's son's truck. I think is name is Tyler or something. I don't know his kid well. He was never one to come around the diner, just the hotel across the street I'd always see his truck."

Y/n glanced up at the man in front of her, the man claiming to be Tyler Joseph.

He just stared back, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

"Where were you the night of the murder?" Y/n questioned, a hint of urgency in her voice.

He only smiled. "Feisty." He replied. "I like it."

"Shut up and answer the question." She wasn't taking any bullshit. She wanted to get this over with. First he wouldn't talk to her partner and now he wouldn't talk to her.

Tyler plumped out his bottom lip in a mockingly pouty way. "Aw, are you going to hurt me?"

"I will if you don't talk." Y/n leaned back in her chair.

Tyler only took a deep breath letting it out slowly. He looked her up and down in a slow and painful manor. "I wouldn't be against you trying."

With one quick motion, y/n was on her feet, her fist on the table as she leaned over to stare into his sneering eyes. "Listen here, Tyler, you are a suspect. You know what that means? That means you could be sent to jail if you don't corporate, do you understand me?" Her threatening glare made him flinch slightly.

"You're very sexy, you know that?" Tyler smiled, and y/n looked at him sternly before letting out a breath to calm herself.

"What's your favorite color?" Y/n asked. The man furrowed his eyebrows, but decided to play along finding nothing wrong with this.

"Red." He answered.

"Yes, the color of blood, huh?"

"I like a lighter version."

"Like fire?"

"No, that's a deep orange."

"My favorite color is grey." She shared. "No one ever says they like grey."

"I like grey."

"Yes, the grey is the color of prison walls." Y/n continued. "The deep orange is the color of the jumpsuits. And the red is the color of your blood once they kill you for murder." She smiled softly. "Do you like fire, Mr. Joseph?"

Tyler was shaken by her story, he gulped. "I- I don't, no."

Y/n nodded, licking her lips. "Well, that's where you go after your death. Murderers go into a pit of fire, where they live for an eternal punishment of burning. Do you want that?" She was calm with her words, yet her stare was deadly.

He shook his head.

"Good." She smiled softly, before leaning forward in her chair. "Then I suggest you tell me where we were the night of the murder." Her voice was low and intimidating even to a man.

Tyler sighed, fidgeting his legs up in down in a swift nervous motion. "I was with a woman. In a hotel across the street from the murder. Once she was asleep, I left."

Y/n took a deep breath with relief and she leaned back in her chair. "What was your lover's name?"

"Llewelyn." He mumbled. "Llewelyn Marsh."

She wrote it down on her notes. "Where did you go after you left her?" She continued.

"I went across the street to the diner where the murder happened— it's where I parked my car. I couldn't park it at the hotel because it was packed with cars. The murder hadn't happened yet, and the man who died approached me, and began yelling at me about something. I think he thought I was someone else." He shrugged. "Someone then came out from behind the bushes and shot the man. Before I could think, he was running away. And I couldn't do anything about the dead man— he was already dead, so I left." Tyler sighed. "I don't know why the murderer didn't kill me."

Y/n nodded, sighing out a long breath. "Thank, Tyler. Stay here while we get you a release. Don't leave town, and we'll be in touch." And with that she left the room.

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I don't actually know who the killer is or whatever. I just liked the idea of questioning. Also that's a terrible story 😂