“I just need to know what the new evidence is that has put Jennings in jail,” I said.
Larson leaned forward, his elbows digging into the clutter of his desk. "You seem slow on the uptake, Agent Thomas. I'll spell it out for you—no."
"Detective," I countered, keeping my voice steady despite the heat crawling up my neck, "I'm not here to step on toes. I'm here for clarity, for closure."
"Clarity?" His lip curled. "You're clouding up my precinct with your Fed badge and big words. This is local police business."
"Local or not, a man's life hangs in the balance. We have to get this right."
"Right," he echoed, mockery lacing his tone. "And you think you've got the monopoly on that?"
"Detective Larson," I leaned in, my voice steady, "think about the victim's family. He has children. They’ll be left without parents if he’s put away. A fresh set of eyes might be beneficial."
"Beneficial?" He snorted, his arms folded like a fortress wall. "Or bureaucratic?"
"Both of us want the same thing," I insisted. "A swift resolution."
"Swift and sloppy don't mix." The words slithered out with disdain.
"Accuracy is key—and I can help with that."
"Help?" His laugh was a barbed wire. "You're more of a hindrance."
"Detective—"
"Save it." He turned away, rifling through papers on his cluttered desk, dismissal written in every crease of his uniform.
I paused. My next words were caught in my throat, left unsaid. He wouldn't budge. It was evident in the rigid line of his back, the way his fingers twitched to shoo me away again.
"Fine." It came out sharper than intended. A mental pivot was needed, and fast.
I didn't let my gaze waver as I backed toward the door, dissecting the room with each step. Bookshelves lined with binders, a computer buzzing on standby.
"Thank you, Detective," I said, though gratitude was the furthest thing from my heart. "Your cooperation has been… noted."
"Note this." He pointed at the door without looking up. "Don't let it hit you on the way out."
My hand found the doorknob, cold and unyielding—a reflection of the man before me. I paused. I took a deep breath, refusing to be cowed by his dismissive posture.
"Is there someone else I can speak with?" I asked, each word measured and clear. "Perhaps another detective who has been on the case?"
The smirk that crawled across his face was like a shadow passing over sun-warmed sand.
"Oh, Agent Thomas," he drawled, the sarcasm dripping from his voice like molasses. "This isn't some open house where you shop around for cooperation."
His fingers danced mockingly on the cluttered desk, tapping out a silent rhythm only he could hear.
"You want the files? Go through the proper channels. Fill out your forms, get your clearances, and stand in line."
“That’s gonna take too long. I don’t have that kind of time,” I said. “The trial is coming up soon.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, but I refused to let it reach my eyes. They remained cool, green pools of determination.
“Not really my problem, is it?”
I turned, leaving him alone with his victory smirk and festering office, the door closing on the sound of his chuckle.
My mind raced through regulations and statutes as I made my way out of the precinct, already plotting my next move. There was more than one way to peel an orange, and I’d peel this case wide open.
