AN: HI!
Ya'll are probs wondering what happened to me and quite frankly Imma keep it short
1) Finals for last quarter took up a lot of time.
2)Writing interrogation scenes is hard, so I needed to do some more research in order to get an idea of what goes on and
3) I lost the flash drive where I had most of the research done involving this story so I had to play catch up and find the other files (if they existed) and links that came with them.
You guys are in for a special treat today because it's a really long chapter! (Hopefully, now with the time that I have, this will become standard for the upcoming chapters)
Anyway, enjoy!
From a distance, an undiscernable figure watched everything that unfurled itself across the diner. An unnerving smirk rolled off his pursed lips.
If only he knew, he thought to himself as he continued to sip on his coffee and enjoyed his lunch.
If only he knew.
The next time they had the opportunity to speak with each other was three days after the impromptu interview with Gilbert. Since then, they haven't received any new evidence for either case. They were at a stalemate.
That is, until now where they were patiently standing outside the interrogation room the FBI borrowed from the PD. Both Alfred and Alicia were quietly whispering to each other about the plans to approach Lovina.
"You'd expect her to know about the way he was murdered?"
"More now than ever," she assured him, "when we told her about his murder, there was something off from her reaction."
Alfred paused to think for a moment, "You think she was the one...?"
She gave him a deadpan stare, "If it were her, how do you think she, a 4 foot 8 115 pound woman, managed to murder a 200 plus pound 6 foot 5 Navy trained drugged male?"
"Damn I was just asking! You don't need to get offended by the hero," he huffed. Her deadpan glare turned into a judging stare, one that he was sure that she was judging him for what he just said.
"Sure. Just asking an almost obvious question."
"You never know. I've known just as terrifying women who could take down a grown woman no problem."
Christ, she was so annoying, he thought to himself. She seemed so, so-
"Pompous? So full of herself? Needs help? Should shut the fuck up?"
He turned to her, the blood slowly draining out of his face. The mortified expression that slowly dawned on his face was everything that she needed to know that he had realized what his mistake was.
"I understand that I might be a difficult person to work with, however, I have never spoken out loud about your unfavorable characteristics while you were in the same room. Unlike you, I can remain professional with everyone around me. Now, get rid of that ridiculous face before you go into the interview."
"Now, tell me why I should-"
She cut him off by warning him in a seething tone, "Clearly, you haven't got the memo, but I do have more years of experience than you do. Meaning I outrank you. Which should tell you enough that I have the position as lead investigator and have the authority to fire you. Now stop being so immature and buckle up cowboy. This interview is what will be our turning point in the case. If we don't get the appropriate information today, this case will remain unsolved."
"Our reports and interviews have led us to the conclusion that you, Ms. Vargas, were the last person to see him alive before his death on July 25th, 2017. May you describe your relationship with him?"
The young woman in question glanced his way with uneasy eyes but otherwise remained silent.
"Ma'am, you are aware of your Miranda-"
"Yes I am fully aware of my rights sir, she answered bitterly, "however, if I do say anything, it will be placing all of your lives in danger."
His eyes opened a fraction of a millimeter, "Why would you say that?"
She exhaled loudly, "There was a reason why I left the country. I was beginning to prepare to leave the country for good. I was only planning on coming back for my personal possessions."
"It sounds rather suspicious," he replied, hastily adding, "however we have reasons to believe that you are not the primary suspect."
She snapped back, "Then why am I here?"
He bit back a sigh of desperation and attempted not to forcefully roll his eyes. "Well, Ms. Vargas, we were hoping if you knew anything about any of the people he knew. Especially the ones who could have possibly been his enemies or friends his close family and friends would disprove of."
"Enemies? People his close family wouldn't like? No, no, no, no but who would-"
He was very close, so damned close, to slamming his hand on the table but held himself together under the tight chains of patience. The way she had so quickly evaded the question clearly meant that she was hiding something. He decided to take another approach.
"You do realize," he said softly, "that the obstruction of justice is a punishable offense, right?"
She visibly paled, wincing at his previous statement. He continued to push his point, "Furthermore, if you don't give us information about whomever you are hiding, you are more than likely to receive a rather harsh punishment because of it."
She finally relented to his tactic. "Okay!" she shouted, voice filled with panic, "Okay, I will tell you some part of it, but I want a deal from this. Because what I am about to say with most likely kill me because of it; I want protection."
Alfred raised his eyebrow, a sign he gave for her to continue. "Protection in the form of a new identity. I want to move out of the country back with my grandfather. All arrangements have been made for him to keep me under his wing, but he will be able to find me quickly should I keep the identity I have now."
He pondered on the idea for a bit, before glancing towards the window on his right. He could barely make out the two figures in the room adjacent to the dimly lit room he was currently residing in but from the looks of it, he could make out that she was as tense as he was with this interrogation.
"As long as you keep in touch with us," he said after a painful moment of silence, "we will place you under the Witness Protection Program. Now, spill."
She let out a relieved exhale, her entire posture changing with the promise he had said. She grasped the glass of water that was sitting on the table in front of her, briefly clearing her voice before beginning her recollection of the man she had the interaction with, "The man you are looking for goes by the initials A.J. He was someone whom I had the unfortunate knowledge of being acquainted with. He is not the most trustworthy of people, nor does he trust people generally. However, he loves being in charge: the reason why he is the current charge of a large crime organization. They have the habit to recruit anyone whom he takes fancy in."
Intrigued, Alfred pushed onwards, "So he took him in as a result?"
She shook her head, "No, he took the collateral damage of my mistake."
"Can you expound on that?"
The light within the dingy room flickered, the chair slowly creaking as Lovina shifted her weight, uncomfortable by the question asked, but relented and continued, "I tried to recruit one of his close friends for a large project A.J. was working on several months ago. Benjamin began getting suspicious of his friend at the time, but never outright said anything or confronted him about what he was doing. Things were running smoothly until he found out that his friend had mysteriously disappeared, which was when he got in contact with me."
"Who was his friend?"
"The first victim, Brennan Asani."
The looming silence that followed left the air thick with an indiscernible feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. The air around them suddenly turned warmer, a reminder that he should push forward and take his time to receive full details in order to set a concrete criminal profile for the killer they were trying to catch. His gut, however, betrayed him and urged him to get this over as fast as possible.
As if she was reading his mind, she cleared her throat and continued her discourse in an urgent fashion that sent Alfred's anxiety through the roof, "His project, overall, was to get revenge on someone who had betrayed him many years ago. Never did find out what he wanted to do, or what were his reasons for doing so. He did, unfortunately for him, leave the name of the person he wanted to inflict his wrath on."
The more she spoke, the more questions popped into his head: what would have caused so much anger to the point of having killed people who were not involved with that event? What were his motives for killing the victims (if his assumptions were correct) who had no knowledge as to why they were forced or recruited to this cause? Where the victims actually related to the person A.J. wanted revenge from?
The most important question was looming in the forefront of his mind, yet he refused to directly ask for the person's name: better yet, he told himself, that she would reveal whom that person he wanted revenge from was without being pushed to do so. She's already risking her life for this, and pushing more would cause her to clam up.
"So what you are telling me that this A.J guy killed Benjamin Carriendo because he was a loophole in his plan?"
Ignoring him completely, (a sign that Alfred took as confirmation to his question) she pushed herself to speak hastily, stuttering nervously, "T-the others had tried to st-stop him, but he had them killed. A st-struggle for power."
Alfred grew concerned, tension building within his muscles, hysteria slowly clouding his judgment; I don't have time to run around and avoid the question, "Who was he after?"
She looked straight at him, eyes agitated with fear coming in from an unknown source, "I've said too much."
He pushed his point home, "Who was he after?!"
She was slowly breaking down in front of him, whatever that had taken hold of her finally reaching a turning point and boiling out of her,
"Who. Was. He. After?!"
It wasn't helping at all that he was slowly following her footsteps. Something about the room changed in in front of his eyes. Either it was that the room had chilled considerably or it was that the room was slowly fading in and out of his focus. He tried standing up from the chair across from her, unsteadily standing up to his full height. His knees felt weak, something that was ringing alarm bells in some distant part of his brain, but in the present, he just wanted to lay down. A coughing fit overcame him, his lungs spazzing with every breath he took. Next to him, a figure slumped in the chair, gasping for air, saying something he couldn't quite fully understand. He heard her say things, but he was slowly losing focus and slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembers her saying before he slipped into lulling darkness, with full clarity, was the name.
A name he was not expecting.
In the side room, the staff present watched the horror unfold on the other side of the one-way window. Alicia was the first to snap out of the stupor and harshly barked orders with a calm precision.
"I want a few volunteers here to help me get them out. To the rest of you: I want this building evacuated immediately and call in a four hundred(*) and a four o' eight (*). Get out of here because there has been a breach and there may as well be poisonous gas floating everywhere. On a side note, you do have gas masks or masks to filter out air for those of us staying behind?"
After everything had been sorted out and everyone who was not involved in the rescue had begun to evacuate, the small team of four (Alicia being the one leading the team) began to gear up with face masks, some using sweaters or lifted the hem of their shirt to add on more protection. She briefed them quickly as they began to approach the door to the interrogation room, "Honestly, you guys know this already: get in and get out and try not to waste more time than necessary. We have no idea what type of gas it can be, and I'd rather not have anyone risk themselves more than what is necessary."
Swiftly, someone opened the door and everyone filed into the room. There was nothing in the air that smelled different, she noted, so that took off a considerable amount of gases from the already large list. As a collective group, they took both unconscious figures in pairs and hightailed the hell out of the room. However, before leaving the building something stopped all four of them in their tracks. The familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life loomed overhead, and in a monotone voice, someone spoke "Oderint dum metuant" before the speakers cut off completely. They looked at each other incredulously, before continuing to drag themselves out of there.
Another problem for add to the ever-growing list that was part of the case. Something that she'll take care of another day, preferably once Alfred was in the clear.
A/N: So there are places with asterisks and the meaning to them (At least, under the actual San Fran police department) are as follows:
Four hundred (400): Evacuation
Four o' eight (408): Send ambulance
Also, since my schedule has opened up considerably, maybe I'll be able to update more frequently. I do have another 2 chapters somewhat fleshed out in a separate notebook, so hopefully, they will be up soon.
Thank you for sticking around all of this time
