He stumbled over his words, tensing until finally his gaze fell to the table and he fell silent. She narrowed her eyes behind the one-way glass.
"Mr. Hernandez? I need you to tell me what you did." Gibbs leaned against the wall of the interrogation room behind the suspect. "But we have all day."
"I was cleaning—I was cleaning the women's restrooms when the bomb went off. Before that, I was emptying the trash in the children's ward. Before that, I—" He blinked, his eyes roving.
"See, that's not what you said before." Gibbs' tone was even, low, dangerous. "So let's try the truth this time, Mr. Hernandez. Like I said, we have all the time in the world."
The suspect began to shudder, and covered his face with his hands. "My name is not Hernandez."
"I thought not. You didn't speak enough Spanish for that."
His voice was muffled through his fingers. "Bassam told me to do it. It was the backup plan in case anyone was captured. I did not—it was a hospital, not a military camp. I tried to put it where it would not hurt anyone, but I did not think they had made it so strong. It was my first mission…"
Gibbs reached for pen and paper. "Slow down, and we'll get all this down. You think they'll come for you, too? Do we need to start screening the people who come in here?"
"I do not know. I am not so important."
If they had thought he was dead… Her job mostly done, she sat back, keeping one eye on the suspect, but her attention was elsewhere.
"You don't really want to kill me, Caitlin."
I should have unloaded the gun right into your forehead, like you suggested.
A.N.: I am terrible at actual case stuff. Constructive criticism on this, as on everything else, is welcome.
