Detective Wallis fidgeted nervously with her pen. She was sitting in the observation room, watching another Detective, Baker, interrogate Joe Darley. She could think of a million places she'd rather be.
"You killed the kid," Baker said, pacing in front of Joe, seated at a table. "Slashed his throat with a machete in cold blood."
"Wasn't me," Joe said.
"We have an eyewitness, you know," Baker said. "The kid's father saw your face. You know he did." He leaned over the table. "All we want is a confession, to make everyone's life easier."
"Wasn't me," Joe repeated.
"Your brother Billy was there, too, wasn't he?"
Wallis shifted in her seat.
Joe glared at Baker. "My brother who?"
"Was he the one who pulled the trigger on the clerk? Because that seems like something he'd do." Baker'd had an eye on the Darley family for years.
"My brother is six years old, sir," Joe said.
"Your older brother."
"Steve?" Joe smiled.
Baker looked like he was about to rear back and punch Joe. "You don't have a brother 'Steve,'" he said. "You think we don't know all about your whole fucking family? You quit playing dumb, or you're going away for a long fucking time. You want the needle, Joe, because that's what you'll get if you don't talk." It was a load of crap, but it was occasionally effective.
"You want to know about Billy?" Joe said, turning his head and glancing into the two way mirror, somehow straight into Wallis's eyes. "Why don't you ask your Detective Wallis?"
Joe's gaze was fixed on Wallis's.
He can't see me, she thought. There's no way. She looked away.
The Officer beside her, McKenna, shook his head. "Don't let him get to you," he said. "He's just trying to fuck with your head."
She nodded. "I know he is," she said.
--
Baker leaned against the doorway of Wallis's office. She looked busy.
"Paperwork?" he said.
She nodded, without looking at him. "Yes," she said. "A lot of paperwork."
He took a sip out of his paper cup. "That Darley kid is a piece of work. He knows he did it, it was a classic gang initiation." He paused. "He seems to know you."
She looked at him. "Of course he knows who I am. I've been on the gang unit for four years. I've dealt with the Darleys more than once."
"Right," Baker said. "He hates the hell out of you. Trying to screw with your mind like that."
"Well," she said, shuffling papers, "it's all part of the job."
"Sure is," he said. He crushed his cup in his fist and lobbed it into the wastebasket by her desk. "Two points," he said, smiling. His smile faded. "So, was he?"
"What?"
"Just screwing with your mind?"
She turned to him. "What are you trying to say, Baker?"
"I'm a Detective," he said.
"So am I," she said.
"Gang activity hasn't gotten better since you've been on it, Jessica. It's gotten worse."
"And that's my fault?"
"Not necessarily." He shrugged. "It's just kind of interesting. I didn't realize that you grew up in the same neighborhood as the Darleys."
Wallis stood up. "Yes," she said. "I worked my way off of the 'mean streets.' I went to college. I became a cop. Because I wanted to clean up that neighborhood."
"Your brother was seriously injured in a gang war in 1992," Baker said. "Is that why?"
"Partly why, yes," she said.
"You must have been pretty close to them. The gangs."
"If you want to say that."
"You spent time in Escovido," he said. A nearby youth detention school for girls.
"You've been researching my past?"
"I'm a Detective," he said.
She nodded. "I was a troubled kid, yes. But I changed."
"You've changed," he said. "It's funny, though..."
"What's 'funny'?"
"I've been at this for eleven years. I've seen a lot of scared little girls who wanted to get out. They wanted to make the world a better place. 'Clean up the neighborhood.' I tried to help a few myself. Every one of them wound up dead at the bottom of the river. Every one who didn't fall in line."
"So?"
"So," Baker said, looking into her eyes. "Why are you alive?"