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Twenty

There was a certain malice that roamed in her eyes as they shifted up and down the grey walls of the interrogation room she was currently in, her red fingernails tapping on the metal table with one hand as the other massaged her wrist where the cuffs used to be. She growled underneath her breath, seething as she was made to sit here and wait for the detectives to take their sweet time. She knew what they were doing, she knew they were trying to break her, to thin out her patience, but you know what, she had enough patience to run for days, so the joke was on them.

The door opened and she twisted in her seat to glare at the detective, watching as she walked in confidently, radiating power, her pant suit expressing her success, one that she envied. Ms. Freed's glare seemed to become more intense as she felt herself lose control of the situation, of herself, hating how the woman seemed so menacing - powerful - just by standing there.

"Elizabeth Freed?" The detective asked, her pale features silent and deadly, her tense and uptight body language oozing power and control, "I'm Detective Reese."

Detective Reese threw down a manila envelope on the desk and opened it up, laying out several pictures of Nate's injuries that were photographed the day earlier, internally grimacing at the dark bruises scattered throughout the boy's small torso, but never letting it show on her face, her scowl set in place. How someone could hurt such a small and innocent child was something that she would never quite grasp, and she hoped she never did.

"Can you tell me why I'm here?" Ms. Freed demanded, her tone sharp and on edge, trying to maintain her air of confidence and control.

"It has been called to our attention that you're abusing you're foster children, would you like to comment on that?" Detective Reese asked, her features showing how unimpressed she was with Ms. Freed's attempt at gaining control - well she may be mildly amused and disgusted.

"I would do no such thing," Ms. Freed scoffed, flicking invisible lint off of her skirt as she began to show an air of disinterest. Detective Reese smiled as she saw the first crack in the woman, the tale tale sign she wasn't exactly being honest. Dark brown eyes watched with interest as the older woman scooted back into her chair and flipped her wrist to exam her nails; inwardly, the Detective snickered as she watched with displeasure, aware that the woman thought she was going to get away with it.

"Well," the Detective began, pursing her lips slightly before continuing, leaning closer to the table, her menacing glare never faltering, "just in case, we've taken you're foster children into custody and the government's payments will stop until the case is over."

The woman's eye twitched, her lips turned into a snicker as her body sagged before standing straighter, her eyes ready to fight back. 'This is going to be a tough one,' Reese thought to herself, readjusting herself in the seat as she waited for the woman to respond to the new information; if she was right, this woman wasn't going to be happy.

"You can't do that!" Ms. Freed cried in outrage, stopping herself before she slipped, "The children are already used to scheduled day, it would be a traumatic experience."

"I bet," Reese played along, "that's why we want you're help."

Reese watched as the woman looked to the side, her stone cold eyes storming with ideas on how to play along. Reese had been working in this department for as long as she could remember and she was aware when someone took the bait; how they would retreat into themselves for a few seconds before they offered anything that was needed to prove their innocence, how they're eyes sparkled with deceit, how their body language would change from defensive to innocent. She knew the role she needed to play in order to get the older woman to trust her, to think she was on her side before she ripped them with the truth, and the kind smile on her face only masked a victorious smirk.