the night she was killed. It wasn't his fault but he felt responsible anyway. Survivor's guilt—or simple guilt. Either way, I wasn't going to learn anything more. The Goldskins would go over his statement and cross-check for inconsistencies. I just wanted a read on the first-pass prime suspects.
"You can go now, Mr. Vorden."
"What?" He'd sunken into a reverie while I pondered.
"You're done. Thank you for your help."
"Oh." He seemed bemused for a couple of seconds, then gathered himself. "Good luck, Captain."
"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. I hoped he did too.
After he left, I punched my beltcomp's audio log through to my desk. I've got a program that analyzes voice microtremors—sometimes it even works. My system told me that Jayce was telling the truth—mostly.
"You can go now, Mr. Vorden."
"What?" He'd sunken into a reverie while I pondered.
"You're done. Thank you for your help."
"Oh." He seemed bemused for a couple of seconds, then gathered himself. "Good luck, Captain."
"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. I hoped he did too.
After he left, I punched my beltcomp's audio log through to my desk. I've got a program that analyzes voice microtremors—sometimes it even works. My system told me that Jayce was telling the truth—mostly.