2 AM
They offered to take her home, but she insisted on waiting while they went to the Post Office and retrieved the next morning's mail. Or this morning's. It was 2 AM by the time he came back. She was sitting bolt upright in the interrogation room, staring at herself in the mirror.
"You found it." She said flatly.
"She mailed it yesterday, I'm sorry, the day before yesterday. We didn't open anything else. Her fingerprints were on it."
"Oh, Jesus," her hand passed over her face. When it fell back on the table, her eyes were red rimmed and moist. "The I should have . . ."
"There was nothing you could have done," he said, the trite words ringing hollow in his ears.
She stood, picking up her bag. "Do me a favor. Don't prophesy based on less than twenty hours of knowledge of my family. Tell my uncle . . . Tell I'm sorry. If he . . . it doesn't matter."
"I'm sure he'd like to hear it from you."
"Interrogation's over, Detective," she said wearily. Here be dragons
and they're none of your business.
"I'm sorry if I caused you any pain." He mumbled at her back.
She stopped but didn't turn. "You were being a bastard, but don't think that anything you could do would amplify my pain. You just aren't that powerful."
She left him like that, with devastating works spoken so simply. No bitterness, just cutting truth.
They offered to take her home, but she insisted on waiting while they went to the Post Office and retrieved the next morning's mail. Or this morning's. It was 2 AM by the time he came back. She was sitting bolt upright in the interrogation room, staring at herself in the mirror.
"You found it." She said flatly.
"She mailed it yesterday, I'm sorry, the day before yesterday. We didn't open anything else. Her fingerprints were on it."
"Oh, Jesus," her hand passed over her face. When it fell back on the table, her eyes were red rimmed and moist. "The I should have . . ."
"There was nothing you could have done," he said, the trite words ringing hollow in his ears.
She stood, picking up her bag. "Do me a favor. Don't prophesy based on less than twenty hours of knowledge of my family. Tell my uncle . . . Tell I'm sorry. If he . . . it doesn't matter."
"I'm sure he'd like to hear it from you."
"Interrogation's over, Detective," she said wearily. Here be dragons
and they're none of your business.
"I'm sorry if I caused you any pain." He mumbled at her back.
She stopped but didn't turn. "You were being a bastard, but don't think that anything you could do would amplify my pain. You just aren't that powerful."
She left him like that, with devastating works spoken so simply. No bitterness, just cutting truth.