*Interviewing a Suspect*

*Interviewing a Suspect*


(Amelia's P.O.V)


I watched silently through the tinted Plexiglas as Hotch and Morgan demanded answers from George. His face was creased with worry and his cheeks glistened with tears. They seemed to be getting nowhere, however, as he kept mumbling and shaking his head and denying any involvement with the murder, then breaking down in tears. Yet all the evidence pointed to him.


I sighed and glanced at Reid, also watching the interview.


"You know him well?" I asked, considering he went to the coffee shop often too. Strange I'd never seen him there.


"He used to talk to me sometimes when I went for coffee. Nothing personal, just friendly chat," he said, inspecting the scene carefully. "It really just doesn't add up; why was there nobody about? The street was practically empty too. They must have realised something had happened, yet nobody called the police."


I shook my head. "I know." After a few more minutes, Hotch and Morgan exited the room, looking solemn. "Still no confession?"


"Still no nothing. He keeps mumbling about what happened, but giving no specific details."


"Let me talk to him," I suddenly said. "Reid and I. Both of us went there often. Maybe he'll respond better to someone he knows."


Hotch raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "You sure? It's your first day; you fully prepared?"


I nodded confidently. "Yes, sir."


He stared at me for a prolonged moment, then shrugged and left.


Deep breaths, Amelia. Act calm. Act friendly. You don't want to scare him, but you don't want to be too nice either. Be straight with him.


"You ready?"


"Mmm-hmm."


Reid grinned reassuringly and we entered the Interviewing room. George glanced up and moaned slightly.


"Hey, George," I said coolly, taking a seat opposite him. Reid lingered by the doorway, seemingly inspecting. "I just need you to answer a few questions about what happened in your coffee shop."


He sighed, then he began the mumbling, clenching and squeezing his fists and shaking his head. "I don't... I don't know. There was... There was a man and a gun... a gun. He shot him and... and there was a gun and they got shot and... He shot him. I don't... don't know..."


I glanced at Reid with a frown.


"George, listen to me. What man? Who was the man?"


"I don't know... I don't know... he threatened me... he threatened me but... I don't know..."


"Who had the gun?" I asked calmly, forcing him to catch my eye.


"I did... I did. I keep it... keep it under the table... in case. Just in case..."


I sighed and leaned back in my seat. "You shot the man?"


"N..No! No, no no! Of course not... no. I didn't shoot... anyone!" His voice was growing hoarse now, from his mutterings. He was telling the truth though; the gun was fired from the other side of the room; the victim must have collapsed onto the table where the blood stain was. George must have been behind the worktop, watching. But how did the man get the gun?


"Who shot the man? The one who was threatening you?"


He nodded vigorously, his forehead gleaming with sweat. I could feel the heat circulating around the room from the dim lamp. It was warm in here.


"How did he get the gun?"


"He... he took it... took it from me. He was... he threatened me... my family... I... are they okay?"


I glanced uncertainly at Reid. "Your family are fine. Now, why did you hide the body?"


He began crying again, sniffling and snorting. "He... he told me to. The man who threatened me... he told me to hide the body... or he'd kill me. Then he left."


"Were there any witnesses?"


He nodded. "The shop was full."


My eyebrows creased. "How come the police weren't informed?"


He gulped heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat. "He said not to, else he'd kill everyone... hunt them all down... all of them."


"What was he, uh, threatening you about?" Reid interrupted, pushing himself off the wall.


"I... I can't remember... Please... I didn't kill anyone... you've got to believe me... please..." he sobbed, wiping his eyes.


I nodded to Reid and we both left the room, pondering silently on what we'd heard.


The others stared at me, obviously impressed. "Well done, Shields. You got practically the whole story out of him," Prentiss congratulated, clapping me on the back.


I shrugged and made for the door.


"Lets get the group together and discuss this. I don't think he's the killer."


Morgan nodded and we all left for the conference room.


*Aah. Another long part. I suppose it makes up for the last really short one. Whatever. D'you think he's telling the truth? Or is he lying? Duh, duh, duuuuh...*

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