The Pursuit of Camila Cabello

Chapter Twenty: One Interrogation and One Reveal

A.N: Whoo! Early update. Lmao, enjoy

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Lauren rubbed at her bruised wrists absentmindedly. They were coloured an angry red in response to the too-tight handcuffs they had slapped on her wrists earlier. She had watched the officer grin wickedly, not alike a fisherman with his catch-of-the-day. She supposed that she, a Mafia member, was that police officer's catch-of-the-day too.

Earlier that day, shortly after being arrested and shoved into a police cruiser like cattle, she had been booked. They took her mugshot (she couldn't resist the urge to smirk at the camera and the officers didn't have the balls to correct her). They took her fingerprints too, leaving her fingers stained with black ink. She picked at them absent-mindedly as she waited.

What was she waiting for? The interrogator. The police department had wasted no time shoving her into the interrogation room. They probably thought that being from outside the family, she would be the easiest to break into a confessing.

Lauren had no worries: she would rather die than rat out her family. "Say nothing," she had told Junior and she intended to keep her word. The only thing this police department would get out of her were her fingerprints and her mugshot.

With that thought in mind, she heard the door swing open. A young man was behind it, holding the door-knob carelessly as he waltzed in. Lauren gave him a once-over, and noted his clothing: the neat, ironed police uniform, a recently polished badge and dress shoes, and the stiff police cap wrapped around his head.

As he took a seat opposite Lauren, he set his hat in front of him next to the papers he came in with. His black hair was neatly cropped, matching his sharp features and blue eyes.

Before he even opened his mouth, Lauren knew what kind of man she was dealing with. He obviously idolised the broken justice system he worked for. He probably ironed his clothes and polished his badge every night before he slept, believing that his dedication to his job shone through in his appearance. He probably recited the Miranda rights at night like a prayer. His hair was cut short, not like those free-loading thugs he secretly abhors. Lauren wouldn't be surprised if he was latent homosexual with a fetish for police uniforms.

This was probably his first interrogation. His hands shook, either with anticipation or excitement (or both). He wanted to prove himself to all the officers and government officials watching her from behind the two-way mirror.

Unfortunately for him, he would get no praises from this silent interrogation.

"You're aware that this conversation is being recorded and video-taped by that camera over there?" He said with a smile, pointing to camera situated in the corner of the room.

Lauren didn't look, just continued to focus on the young man in front of her. He was going for the approachable, friendly cop approach. He knew that intimidation would not worked on someone whose only fear was of the organisation he was trying to take down. Instead, he wanted her to trust him and confide in him.

Overall, Lauren knew this interrogation would bore her out of her mind.

"Have you been read your Miranda rights and aware of your rights?" He asked, giving his notes a once-over.

Lauren said nothing. She had been read her rights but part of her rights was the ability to remain silent. It was mostly just protocol so Lauren didn't focus too much on it.

"Do you know the story behind the name 'Miranda' rights?" He asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

Lauren said nothing. She didn't know but he didn't need to know that.