"He's warped."

"Who?"

"My client. I'm telling you, there's something deeply wrong with him."

The policeman twists in his chair.

"How so?" he asks.

"I'm not exactly sure. It's a feeling." I take a deep breath. "He's hiding something. Something dark."

"Unless you can give me details, there's not much I can do."

My hand begins to shake.

"I think there's a dead body in his basement."

His eyes widen. He stares at me, thinking.

"Why do you say that?"

"He hinted at it. More than once. Talking about the smell of blood in his house... the horror of seeing a hand detached from its body."

My face crumples. Tears begin to fall.

"I thought it was metaphorical. I thought he was joking.

Until..." I struggle to compose myself.

"He showed me a picture."