Final day
James couldn't understand how his life had fallen apart in the blink of an eye. He sat at the counter bar, the place where visitors could talk to prisoners. The cold metal and Plexiglas barrier felt like a cruel reminder of how far he had fallen. He had been informed that he had a visitor, and his curiosity was piqued. He had been trying to piece together what had gone so terribly wrong.
When Otis walked in, James immediately knew something was amiss. His old friend looked worn out, his usual commanding presence diminished. Otis sat down heavily, and the policeman gave them a modicum of privacy, stepping away but remaining within sight.
"Why did you do it?" Otis asked, his voice eerily calm.
James was taken aback. Otis knew everything he had been doing. In fact, Otis had been the one to plant many of the ideas in James' head, so why was he asking questions now?
"What?" James asked, genuinely confused.