“Terrorist! Did you just call me a terrorist?” Paul slumps back into his metal folding chair. “You have it all wrong. No, no. Thingsdiseasesr5 aren’t like that…now”
“Your cell phone places you in a very bad spot. Frankly, there was noone but you there. Am I to believe in ghosts? Or maybe we failed to pick up a second signal?” Montague pushes his glasses back up his nose. His sharp features grabbing shadows from the dim stark room.
“You have it all wrong.” Paul runs his right hand against his receding hair. His right leg bounces slightly in a nervous twitch.
“You’re 45, recently unemployed, gun collector…. oh, yeah. Here’s a missing persons report from Olivia Stafford. Your wife? Correct?” Montague pauses and leans forward into the light. “Seems she thinks you might hurt yourself or somebody. Imagine that. You might hurt somebody.”
“She didn’t know. I mean the doctor told me but never mentioned about mandatory reporting.” Paul starts to panic. His eyes grow wide, needs ous sweat line up along his brows. “It’s cancer. They notified my employer! I was too expensive to insure. She had no idea. How do you explain that to your family? Fired because you need medical treatments.”
“Now the government provides opportunitiesfor people like you.” Montague smiles ” Ha, you didn’t care about the lifestyle that causes your problems.”
“I can’t support my family with those programs!” Paul’s mouth grows tight. ” Wait till it happens to you! You’ll see!”
“No excuse! Especially for what you and your kind have done!” Montague snaps a file shut. “Think deeply about what you have done. Grenade launcher with fingerprints. At the scene of the crime. And it’s all because your sick.”