Discerning Retribution

vi

A/N: Longer than usual chapter ahead. :D

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The Woman Who Saw Plenty

THEIR WITNESS TURNED OUT TO BE WOMAN who seemed like someone with a bit of attitude. She was a bit shorter and rounder than what one would imagine hanging out in nightclubs, but her physique was none of their concern. Who were they to judge her by her appearance, was what Reagan thought. As long as she could tell them what they needed to know, she'd still be the most helpful person so far.

"You are Ms. Elona Bacud, yes?" The agent started just before he dragged one of the metal chairs out so he could occupy it.

The woman nodded, nestling a bandaged arm to her chest. Her face, as well as other parts of her that were exposed by her skimpy dress, were covered in scratches and a few shallow burns, which led Samuel to believe she had indeed been standing close to the lavatory when the explosion happened. Instead of looking tired and shaken though, she seemed more annoyed and exasperated, probably from being made to wait for too long to be interviewed back at the local station. It was quite a striking contrast.

"Look, I already told the officers earlier. A woman locked herself in the ladies' room before it was bombed." There was a touch of impatience in her voice.

"You're sure that it was bombed?" The agent who had leaned back on his chair glanced at her as he pretended to flip through the folder in his hands.

"What else could it have been? There was an explosion for chrissake!" Her uninjured hand went up in frustrated surrender before it landed back on her lap.

Reagan watched her partner silently as she leaned against the wall nearest the door. His line of questioning was all wrong, in her opinion. He was going at the woman like she was a suspect on the onset. Sure, his nitpicking her choice of words was textbook, not to mention smart, but it would only work if their interviewee really had something to do with the incident itself. Her initial read of the woman though, told her she didn't. Would she be stupid enough to be standing so close to the blast range if she knew about it? Ruining the designer dress she chose for the night, possibly one of the few she owned, didn't seem like something the woman would risk happening. The agent should learn a thing or two about reading people, she decided.

The silent dragged on for a few seconds before Samuel spoke again. He was surprised his partner hadn't tried taking the reins yet. He knew the woman wasn't suspect material; he could tell by the way her crossed leg swung frantically beneath the table, and the way her fingers fiddled with a piece of her tattered dress. The woman was more likely to care about the next fashion disaster on television than listen to any news on domestic terrorism. They still needed to play her a little though, just so they'd be sure whatever she confides in them would be the truth, and so he could extinguish her ambitious thoughts of having a go at him as well. He knew when she first saw him she'd been thinking of getting his contact information; it was a look he was all too familiar with. He figured he'd be the bad cop then. He had always been fond of hitting two birds with one stone.

"Ms. Bacud, you are thirty-eight years of age, correct?" The agent raised her his head and met the woman's eyes with a sharp look.

"What's that got to do with anything?" The woman sounded offended.

"A bit too old to be club hopping, if I do say so myself."

Both the woman and the detective stared at the agent in shock, the former with a bit more anger reflecting in her eyes.

Reagan could bury her face in her hands from frustration. She'd throw in a tantrum there too, if she could. Were her partner's people skills really that hopeless? What could he possibly hope to achieve by jibing the only witness they've found so far? It was time for her to step in, she reckoned. That or let the agent ruin another one of their chances.