“What was the situation between you and Hayley? Tell us!” May demanded.
Then, it was as if Tim suddenly cracked. "The situation?” he yelled. “The only situation is that I don’t want you in here. I can’t answer these questions. Leave! Leave, now!"
The next moment, May found herself staring at the sharp, pointed tip of the knife.
In his rage, Tim had drawn it and was aiming the blade directly at her chest.
CHAPTER SEVEN
May felt her heart bang hard against her ribcage. The wicked blade, still gleaming with blood, was pointed directly at her, and it was just a foot away. He was more than close enough to lunge and attack, and he could do so in an instant, especially since it seemed as if he’d tipped over into irrational, uncontrollable rage.
"Calm down, Mr. Walters," she said, keeping still, instinctively feeling that she should not move suddenly or be aggressive in her response. She sensed that this man was on the edge. He was ready to attack.
Things could go bad in a flash in these situations and now all her fears were being realized. Tim Walters was aggressive and unstable, and May knew that she was at risk, in that moment. With the knife so close, freezing and talking seemed like the best response. Any reaction could trigger him to stab.
In the moment was where things went wrong.
"You're telling me to calm down? To calm down?" He brandished the knife in a thrusting motion, breathing hard. His eyes were wide. His voice was high and shaky. May could see he'd been thrust into an emotional tailspin. He wasn't thinking straight. Within a moment, he’d changed from a normal-seeming guy into a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Owen eased himself slowly to the side, and May knew he was looking for a way to get to this man, to disarm him and to defuse the threat. But he was looking to do it in a way that wouldn't involve drawing a gun in a slaughterhouse. Or any sudden movements.
Right now, any sign of a weapon would escalate the threat and it might tip him over the edge. There would not be time to shoot this suspect. He could stab May while Owen was still reaching for his gun.
Now, in this moment, it was down to body language and calmness to try and save the day.
They needed to talk him down, back to coherence, so that they could actually find out if he was their killer or not.
But with every frenzied breath he took, his rage was rising, and May wondered, with a chill, if he was the killer, and was losing what little control he had left.
"Mr. Walters, what you’re doing is dangerous. Calm down, please! This is simply questioning. We are not arresting you — yet. But we will if you continue to threaten the police," she pleaded with him, trying not to focus on the knife’s surprisingly steady blade. Emotional as he might be, she could see the experience and skill in his grasp.
"You're in my place of work," Tim spat. "Leave. I want you out. You’ve seen what I do here. I cut, I slice, I carve. This is my job, and if you’re here and I’m mad, I can tell you now, things will get dangerous! And it’s going to be your fault. There are safety regulations. Don’t make me cut you! Don’t make me do it!" His voice was high and shaky, even though the grasp on the knife was solid and strong.
May wanted so badly to take a step back. That wavering knife, gleaming in the overhead lights, was terrifying her. Her stomach muscles felt as tight as boards. But she had to stand her ground. More than that, she had to make him back down, and defuse what she sensed was not so much a murderous threat, as an emotional reaction.
"We're not going anywhere," May said, trying to sound calm. "You need to put the knife down and let us speak to you."
"I'm not speaking to you! I don't want to!" He was shouting now, and May realized that he'd reached the point where he couldn't get back to thinking clearly. He was reacting from pure emotion, without thinking of the consequences of his actions.
She realized that if he wasn't calmed, and fast, they could be in real trouble here. She had no choices, except to keep talking and hope that her words would start to sink in. He was on a peak of emotion and either it would start to ebb, or else he’d do something that they would all regret.
“There’s really no need to be threatening. Why are you even doing this? If you’re angry about things, you can tell us. Talk to us.”
He cocked his head slightly, as though considering what he should do next. The blade flashed in the clinical lighting.
"Calm down, put the knife down, and let us speak," she said, in as soothing a voice as possible.
She had to keep him listening. He was enraged, but instead he needed to be engaged. She had to make him see that he was making a mistake. If he did this, there would be consequences.
"I'm telling you that you need to calm down and we need to talk," May repeated, keeping her voice steady and even. "As soon as we have talked with you, we will go away. But if you want us to go away, you need to put the knife down."
She saw a flicker in his eyes. He was starting to think logically again. But he could tip back over the other way at any moment, and she didn't know what had triggered him. She suspected it was the mention of Hayley.
He looked down at the knife and hesitated, as if he was suddenly not sure how such an instrument had ended up in his hand, angrily pointed at May.
He shook his head. He lowered the knife. But he was still holding it in a white-knuckled grip.
"Put it down, Mr. Walters," May insisted, keeping her voice calm. She didn't trust his emotion not to flare up again. She didn't want the viscerally threatening sensation of having that blade aimed at her again.