Fish Tank Blues
Taylor tosses the Manila folder to the bench top and stoically digs his fits into his hips before letting out a lengthy hiss of frustration. “THIS IS BULLSHIT!” he spits as he turns to face Carson. “I just can’t believe that this thing slithered up the side of the building, then forced its way in through the window, on the forty-second level mind you, killed thirteen highly trained security guards just so it could torture Sullivan uninterrupted for hours, before killing him and pinning him up on the wall like an artist would their paintings.”
Carson remains silent for a few moments before gripping his overly hairy chin and squeezing it in rhythmic motion. “All the evidence points to exactly that scenario taking place, even the security images corroborate it, so what makes you not?”
“Everything else. Sure, the evidence all points to the likely scenario happening, but the gut,” he says as he slaps his sigh an open hand. “The gut doesn’t agree, the gut says something else happened and Sullivan was a patsy who was used as a coverup, or red herring if you must.”
“A red herring? Aren’t you’re being a little over dramatic?” Carson scoffs.
“Over dramatic got lost when that thing slithered up the fucking side of the building, I’m just going with the flow now!”