Adam Mitchum sat in an uncomfortably small, warm room at the Jackson County Jail. Detective Townsend said he’d just be a minute, but it seemed like an hour. He finally reappeared with the promised cup of water.
“Talked to your wife already, Mitchum. Says she was asleep when you left, can’t say for sure what time it was. Thought the garage door opened real early, like 4 a.m.”
Lying bitch, Adam thought. “She’s — mistaken. I made coffee and left the house about six. Anyway, the cameras in the school vestibule will show what time I got there.”
“Nope, they’d been disabled.”
My theme this year is 100 word fiction. (So no, don’t count this line.) This is a continuation of A is for Apple, which you can read here.