Harris clicked his pen again, a sharp sound that echoed off the yellow tiled walls.

“Your father’s vehicle was logged on a traffic camera three blocks from your apartment building yesterday evening,” Harris said.

I sat very still, my hand tightening around my cold paper cup.

“He told me he was leaving Columbus,” I said.

“He lied,” Harris said, leaning forward.

“We have reason to believe your family is trying to reach you before we can secure a formal statement.”

“I have nothing to say to them,” I said.